- Written by: Susan
Everyone has one, or desires one, be it modest or grand, simply a place for them to call home, a place to lay their head. Many days, they may leave, travel to and fro, to work or wherever, only to return by a similar path....home. For three years, this was the path leading away from my home in Brooksville, Florida. This viewpoint was from the intersection that connected the long gravel driveway up to our rural home, a ranch home. We had five acres, 1/2 being wooded, 1/2 pristine pasture.
Almost every morning, I walked this earthy, rutted path, often with my dachshunds if they were up for it, traveling a 2-mile loop. If it was hot, I would leave early to beat the oppressive heat. It it was cooler, I would throw on sweats, a sweater, and go! I loved this path. It was primitive, organic in most every meaningful way to me. It was a spiritual path, embracing my entire being of body, mind and soul. This private path knew me, too...my thoughts, wants, dreams...my joys and heartaches. It listened to me, my heart, as much as I listened to what it said, too... its crisp silence, noisy crunching leaves, its soft wind like a butterfuly caressing my cheek, the dewdrop that falls off the tree onto my face in the morning, the scent of wild honeysuckle, its elemental protection of the species that lived there - the gopher turtle seen most often - the fierce Florida downpour where the water is so warm, you just turn your face up to receive it, stick out your tongue to taste it.
This was my first alla prima painting that I did which I actually liked. Working in the sun with glare can be challening in any situation, so I started this painting mid morning, but it was summer, so it was hot. Hot enough to want to work quickly to quell the noise of buzzing insects, and to minimize getting paint all over my face due to constantly wiping dripping sweat. This path runs south, southwest so the sun was traveling diagonally from the upper left -hand corner westward to the lower right-hand corner. The path was illuminated by filtered light dancing through a canopy of dense trees.
This is an earthy painting, very primitive, but as real as many paths everyone sees everywhere if one looks for them. I look at this painting and think, this looks like it could have been painted 100 years ago; but it's not so. It's just as it was when I lived there, just as it is today when I visit, and hopefully just as it will remain for a very long time to come.
The Road to Home
- Written by: Susan
Nature and wildlife in all of its simplicity, in all of its complexity, is a beautiful thing. In perfect balance, or even out of balance, we see through this prism our loves, our needs, our personalities, our preferences, our beauty, our fragility, our exuberance, and more. The list is endless.
Family. Webster's will give us a definition: " a group of people who are related to each other". I might add, a group of any species.
The ibis is a social bird, liking camaraderie. Of course in my painting who can know whether any of these birds are related or not? I took the photo capturing the movement of how they were perched on the tree. I liked that they were together yet allowed one another space. There was a lyricism in the way they primped and preened, turning their bodies in a myriad of ways. Comfortable with one another, together and quiet, they could tuck their heads under their wing and rest, or just gaze outwardly. The ibis were safe in their refuge.
I painted this monochromatically because I was entering it into a "Black and White" exhibit at Carrollwood Cultural Center in Tampa, Florida. It took a third place award.
Family
- Written by: Susan
My children are actually 10 years apart (not evident in this painting) but to make it work, I brought them closer in age; the young girl is about 7 or 8, her brother 3 or 4. She is protective of him. He is spent, played hard, and has fallen off hard as children do when they rambunctiously race around the house, picking up a toy, discarding it, demanding another game, another mysterious question, seemingly endless in their quest for absorbing every detail of every moment, so perfectly able to live in the moment.
Flash forward. The Prequel.
I looked at the picture of my son and myself, obviously deep in sleep. Maybe one dreaming, maybe one not. Thinking back to a childhood without worries, there is just imagination, inquisitiveness and play. Adults lose this to a degree. We scramble around, often seeking something that is lost. We’re not sure how it got lost or where, or maybe even what it is, but children remind us of that need to dream.
"This may sound glib but it really bears repeating ~ hold fast to your dreams never let them go ~ we need every dreamer everywhere to let greatness flow."
from the lyrics "Where Dreams Take Us"
The brushwork is quite heavy in this painting. It is an early painting I did, trying to capture a perfect moment in time of familial love. I was trying to mold my children in real life. I was mirroring my emotion onto the canvas, trying to reinforce the premise that no matter the age, dreams are necessary; they propel us. We seek, we stumble, but in sleep there is respite, hopefully. With dreams that nurture and refresh our spirits, each day we can dream anew, ready for the next adventure, without cynicism, open to the possibilities that are hidden but ready to unfold and which will engage and delight us if we let our guard down. Children are the best teachers.
Where Dreams Take Us