.
When I paint,
I spend a lot of time staring at my work.
It is an essential part of the artistic process.
Leaning back in my chair
I contemplate every line..
Examining shape, color and shadow
exploring possibilities.
I could do this for hours..
just sitting here
watching paint dry.
.
.
.
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Thank you!
Goodbye,
my beloved tube of Raw Umber.
I will see you again
in the rough bark of trees,
in the shadowy corners of secret rooms..
dark and deep.
I will see you again
on the tip of my brush
and at the start of every painting..
when we meet again
like old friends.
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If you would like to help support this blog, and brighten my day – please buy a book.
Thank you!
I get carried away when I paint..
This is not always a good thing.
Doing detail work
with a ragged paintbrush..
stuck in the zone
and unable to stop.
I am a runaway train heading for disaster.
“Stop!” I shout,
attempting to startle myself out of my trance.
Sometimes it works..
sometimes, it doesn’t.
The other night, in desperation
I whipped the glasses off my face and threw them at my table.
Hard to keep painting when you can’t see.
.
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If you would like to help support this blog, and brighten my day – please buy a book. Thank you!
“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.
Why are you looking at me like that?
I’ve been away too long..
Hopefully the next little creature I draw
won’t cringe when he sees me.
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.”
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.
