“The Legacy of Mildred’s Basement” by Michele Bledsoe
When I was a child
my favorite place to play was in my grandmother’s basement.
I would stay down there
for hours on end.
That was so many years ago.
All gone now,
along with my beloved grandma..
but not really.
I still go there
when I paint.
When I paint
I put a blob of raw umber on my palette
and start drawing on the canvas.
I don’t stop to think about what I’m doing
I go wherever my paintbrush takes me.
Often it leads me into difficult territory..
Not away from it.
Hands are hard,
yet the creature that ended up on my canvas
has six of them.
So I struggle.
I fight.
I am committed to the end.
Dedicated to the direction of my gift
and the heart that guides me..
I will never give up.
Don’t avoid the hard stuff.
That’s how you grow.
Excerpt from Painting, Passion and the Art of Life by Michele Bledsoe
Paintings by Michele Bledsoe
I am obsessed with trees..
and pieces of trees.
Planks and chunks
of carved wood,
branches and leaves
I paint them all the time..
cultivating my weird
deconstructed forest
on canvas.
Being that my husband and I are both artists..
our family Christmas tradition
involves painting.
We have been working on this tree for many years.
Every December, we pull it out of storage
and get to work.
Taking turns
adding details
My sisters have also contributed..
picking up a brush to add their mark
to a tree decorating ceremony
captured on canvas.
42 Dogs by Michele Bledsoe
There are books on my shelf that I have read dozens of times..
maybe hundreds.
I could say the same for certain movies.
Experiencing such a deep passion for something
will do that to you.
Maybe it’s just me.
The painting you see is called 42 dogs.
I wasn’t trying to be cryptic
or intentionally weird..
the title is actually quite literal.
While painting it, I listened to Pink Floyd’s “Dogs”
42 times in a row.
Inside the treasure chest.. paintings by Richard and Michele Bledsoe
Since my husband and I are both painters..
we have a lot of art on the walls.
“We live inside a treasure chest.” Richard often says..
I couldn’t agree more.
I have spent countless hours
wandering around my house
staring at one piece
or another..
discovering and rediscovering
each precious jewel
again and again.
The Church of Instinct, As Above So Below and From the Old House by Michele Bledsoe
Just as the negative space
around an object
will define its shape..
You can tell a lot about a person
by what they like.
These things reveal something about us..
But art is different.
More than just a human-shaped outline
formed by the things we respond to..
When you create art
it IS you.
“Tusk” by Richard and Michele Bledsoe
Portrait of Steve Gompf by Michele Bledsoe
In 2018, the world lost a great artist
and I lost my friend.
A true creative genius..
Steve Gompf was one of the most wildly imaginative
and passionate artists I have ever known..
and he taught me the true meaning
of constructive criticism.
When we shared a gallery years ago
my work had become very gray.
Soft tones and faded colors..
I was struggling with my palette
and I had lost my way.
It was Steve who brought me back.
Wonderfully eccentric,
playful and engaging..
Steve was also as blunt as a sledgehammer.
He marched up to my work
and held an Oreo cookie against a “dark” area
in one of my paintings..
“That’s not dark!” he exclaimed,
“THIS is dark.”
I was floored.
He was absolutely right.
After this artistic epiphany
my work improved dramatically.
When Steve asked me to paint his portrait
I had no words..
but I was thrilled at the opportunity
to pour out my love and gratitude
in a way we would both understand.
“And Then You Blink” by Michele Bledsoe
My husband and I paint back to back in our home studio.
We listen to music, we talk to each other..
and we talk to ourselves.
“Why are you still using this brush?” I scold myself in disbelief.
“#$%*@! Yes, yes… oompa loompa!” Richard shouts enthusiastically.
It is a strange disjointed conversation..
punctuated by wordless grunts
sentence fragments
and a variety of hoots
howls and whistles.
We are still in the same room
but we are gone.
Lost in our own worlds
just as it should be.
