My husband gave me a wondrous gift the other day..
a dead carpenter bee he found in the yard.
He knows me so well.
This beautiful
black-velvety little creature
and his single coppery wing..
will live again
in my paintings.
My husband gave me a wondrous gift the other day..
a dead carpenter bee he found in the yard.
He knows me so well.
This beautiful
black-velvety little creature
and his single coppery wing..
will live again
in my paintings.
An actual conversation that took place
between my husband and I while we were painting:
Richard: “Does that look like a church?”
Michele: “It looks like a gerbil wearing a hat.”
In the privacy of my own home
I have joyfully lost my mind over blackberries.
I pour out my love to these dark and delicate jewels
in my paintings..
where I can explore
and obsess over them
to my heart’s content.
**
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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
Another piece of illustrated personal mail
I sent to Richard while we were dating.
It has been a long time
since I’ve seen these drawings..
I was pleasantly surprised
to find my dog’s missing leg
under the sea
with the fish sticks
and goldfish crackers.
The part of the brain that controls our feelings
has no capacity for language..
Perhaps this is where art comes from;
I can’t tell you what I find there..
I have to show you.
I didn’t paint much
while I was working on my book.
But now..
I am unleashed.
I painted and painted
and painted.
That night..
my hand hurt like crazy.
Muscles aching from disuse;
I smiled to myself
in the dark.
All I could think about
was more painting.
Being an introvert,
I am no stranger to social distancing.
That is an understatement.
Nevertheless,
Time is a gift..
and I have embraced this unexpected period of self-quarantine
with wild enthusiasm.
After years of false starts
self-sabotage
doubt, distraction
and failure..
my new book is about to be published.
Now, onto the next project..
Work in progress, by Michele Bledsoe
It is rare when I introduce something new
to my beloved palette of colors…
That is an understatement.
But when I returned to my easel
after finally finishing my new book..
it appears that I have wondrously
and joyfully
lost my mind.
Without hesitation
I started gathering strange tubes of paint
one after another..
And as I fearlessly applied these alien pigments
to my work in progress,
I understood the true meaning of enthusiasm:
To be possessed by God.
Cerulean Blue, Sap Green, Yellow Oxide… I had to write them down so I wouldn’t forget.
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.