Vincent van Gogh’s Clogs

Sure as the stars shine, if you dare to wear a new pair of shoes or shirt or pants to just “do a little bit of painting” paint gets on you!!  You can count on it as one can count on the sun to rise. So what is an artist to do? Why paint shoes of course.

While Gauguin and van Gogh were working out their painting arrangements and personal relationship in Arles, Gauguin received word that he had sold a painting. Returning to the Yellow House to relay his good news to Vincent, he noted a lack of enthusiasm coming from Vincent.  Slighted feelings and disappointment sparked a spat of temper, Gauguin yelling, “You are jealous of me. You are jealous because I have sold a painting!”

To which Vincent replied, “Me, why should I be jealous if you sell a painting. It doesn’t matter to me if you sell a painting.  May I have your clogs?” 

Vincent van Gogh painted his share of wooden clogs and leather shoes during his artistic career.  To him shoes were another form of still life; perhaps more importantly a metaphor for the difficulties of the artist’s path.  “Because I go about in wooden shoes, I shall be able to manage.” Vincent appreciated worn clothing as “having the imprint of life.”  Shoes that became well-worn were a testament to trail blazing, walking in virgin territory, which is how he viewed himself as an artist. At various stages of his artistic career, he painted an “autobiography” of shoes that he had worn, from stiff gray wooden clogs, to leather shoes and boots, malleable, broken down, scuffed, with worn bulges and cavernous interiors. Each painting was evidence of the remarkable, visionary path that Vincent walked as an artist.

I look down at the latest splotch of paint on my shoes and realize that I, too, am on an artistic path and perhaps it would be good to document my own trailblazing. 

Oddments

Some of us live surrounded, inundated, overwhelmed, flooded, squished, fascinated, and delighted by oddments in our homes and studios. Different junctures in our lives can be distinguished by our collections, purchases, findings, hoardings and compulsions brought on by oddments. These are the odd little “things” that for some inexplicable reason we are drawn to like hummingbirds to sugar water!

Hong Kong: I recall being awed by delicately carved pale green jade. That started my collection of carved jade “chops” with their intricately engraved Chinese calligraphy. I deliberated for hours on what to have written. Hmmm, I no longer can recall what was inscribed, and lost the cribbed-notes. Denver, Colorado: Completely unexpected, I was gifted with enormous, glass; fish shaped platters— 40 of them! London, England: An inexplicable fascination with marionettes! My “had to have” marionettes now hang by dusty strings and once brilliant India-inspired fabric costumes a faded dull beige-y red. Reno, Nevada: As a young mom I was completely swept away by the metaphor of seashells, as beautifully written in Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Somehow that morphed into a lifelong fascination with seashells. Jars, mantles, shelves are still filled to overflowing with shells from all over the world; some collected by me, others little tokens of love from friends and family.  Anywhere, USA: Once a “collector” of every single Martha Stewart cookbook, the oddment of the time was green Depression glass.  Today, a decade plus later, languishing quietly in a seldom used china cupboard rests multiple tilt-y stacks of green Depression glass, complete with chips and nicks, to prove I used it. Back to China: Every piece of blue and white china, from Delft to Bavaria to Baltimore somehow found a niche in my oddment heart. Roussillon, Provence: Provided the impulse to bring back (via carryon luggage) tall glass jars filled with ocre sienne, ocre havane, ocre rouge, and ocre omare raw-earth pigments. The same earthy pigments used by long admired artists. Today my cloudy jars of mineral colors sit wedged between art books, a testament to the comparative ease it is today to be an artist.

Oddments are tiny little worlds that hold memories and meanings only to the beholder. 

Which leads me to this concluding thought by Wayne Thiebaud, “I try to find things to paint which I feel have been over looked?”

Havre de Grace, Maryland: My goodness, a whole new world of painting awaits me as I fondly recall my treasure trove of oddments.

Delicious

The art of Wayne Thiebaud can be summed up with one word, “delicious.” A prolific and completely unique painter, everything he has painted over his 88 years (and still going strong) has a certain “delicious-ness” to it. Cupcakes, layered cakes, wedges of pie, French pastries, bubble-gum machines, wild-print bow ties, scintillating sunglasses, hotdogs to hamburgers are each showcased in their “brightest-best” light.  The common painted uncommonly well.

Wayne Thiebaud paintings capture a heartfelt nostalgia and put a broad smile on one’s face. I have a fond memory of a wonderful exhibition of Mr. Thiebaud’s paintings at the Phillips Gallery, Washington DC, a few years ago. Anticipation was high walking up the broad circular staircase inside the Phillips. Stepping onto the pale wood landing my vision opened to an enormous room stacked, packed and plied with amazing paintings in sugar-almond colors. It was like walking into the most fabulous of French delicatessens filled with every yummy food imaginable. This is the “wow” factor at best in art. 

Fast forward: Monday, March 10. Location : Mrs. Brown’s special education class. Project: introducing Mr. T’s vision of painting to sixteen “artists.” Teens and food are one and the same, synonymous. So we started with cupcakes, real cupcakes. First mixing individual tubs of butter cream frosting with food colorings of choice, a rainbow of frostings appeared: cool blue, zingy coral, sunny yellow and a rather dubious gray. Craft sticks piled the rich colored frosting high on the “organic” cupcakes and finally topped with colorful sprinkles. The drippy, delicious cupcakes were lined along the windowsills for later inspiration.

We could now immerse ourselves in the study of Mr. T’s art. On a high screen we viewed his paintings, color choices, subject matter and observed his complete sense of humor. The biggest laugh was given to “Jolly Cones” a whimsical painting of two balls of vanilla ice cream, “crowned” with inverted sugar cone hats, cinnamon red hots for nose and black licorice eyes…perfect ice cream clowns.

Learning about Mr. T’s lifelong art career gave plenty of inspiration for each student-artist to paint their own masterpiece.  Substituting craft sticks for paint brushes and frosting for cups of paint, each artist created his/her own “delicious” artwork inspired by their decorated cupcake. When the last painting was signed and the final photo taken of the artist and their work, the highly anticipated reward was living up to those famous French words, “Let them eat cake!” And they did!

Thank you Mr.Thiebaud for you inspiration!

"Painting with Imagination" To imagine is every thing. Well, not quite but almost. Last night my daughter called me from her car, driving west out of Chicago. She was eager to share with me the beauty of a sunset she was witnessing as she drove. "Mom, I am viewing a peachy sky threaded with lavender ribbons The fluffy strung clouds are tinged in pearl gray, the color of a dove's wing. It is so beautiful. I wish you could see it."

A little imagination made it very easy to view in my mind what she was seeing with her eyes. Both are miraculous!

People ask me, "How do you imagine such things?"

Let me say a word about French: Attitude. A month or so ago I feverishly created six French: Attitude paintings...simple in construction, but full of color, line and emotion. Now where did that come from?

Early in January we were watching La Vie en Rose, a beautiful French art movie that re-tells the life of Edith Piaf, the famous French singer from the 30's - 40's. Edith a slight and wizened figure, with wild black hair, deeply etched, soulful eyes and emotionally evocative voice absolutely caught my imagination on fire! I watched the movie three times. After the third viewing I went straight to some small art boards previously painted black. They had been in my studio waiting for my "imagination" to take hold.

In a matter of a few hours, faces with soulful eyes burst forth. I played with charcoal, thick water-soluable pencil, India ink, acrylic and oil paint. Whatever would make a definitive mark, create a mood was put down. And as quickly as it had started it ended and there sat these six faces brimming with life. To name them took another stretch of imagination. Why not give them an attitude? And so it went.

Paint what comes to you now. Even more will come later. The sunset will flow through you.