“Portrait of Munchkin Giggle-Sprinkles” by Michele Bledsoe
Recently, I put aside my work in progress..
and ignored a looming deadline
to pour myself into a special request –
A portrait of my sister’s beloved cat
who passed away last year.
This is what art is all about.
Not the galleries and the exhibits.
Not the personal attention
and public exposure…
it’s about the gift
and what you choose to do with it.
Me and Anna under the rainbow..
My husband and I volunteer as art teachers
for a group of inner city kids in downtown Phoenix.
One evening, we were joined by a particularly shy little girl.
Sitting in front of a blank piece of paper,
she whispered that she couldn’t think of anything to draw.
I asked her if there was something she wanted me to draw.
“A snowman!” she said, touching the picture of Olaf on her t-shirt.
“Okay,” I said – rising to the challenge..
“I never drew him before, but I am going to do the best I can.”
The girl watched me intently.
A few minutes later, I showed the little girl my drawing.
Smiling, she looked down at her blank piece of paper
and announced with great conviction,
“I am going to draw an ice cream cone. I never drew one before
but I am going to do the best I can.”
She drew a wonderful ice cream cone, covered in sprinkles with a cherry on top..
and after that, she drew the picture you see above.
I thanked her
and then I got something in my eye.
“The Ghost and My Obsession” by Michele Bledsoe
Several years ago I was sitting at my desk
in my high-level corporate job
and I had a terrifying vision.
I imagined myself far in the future
sitting at the same desk..
doing exactly the same thing
and wondering to myself
what life would have been like
if I had decided to pursue my art instead.
Not long after that, I quit my job..
and let my path take me to where I was meant to be
instead of where I thought I should go.
In life, as in art
we must be fearless.
Trust the gift.
“Playmates” by Michele Bledsoe
When I was little,
my grandparents had me completely convinced
that my toys were alive.
Sitting in my bedroom..
they would send me off to the kitchen
for a glass of water
or a peach.
When I returned,
I noticed that several of my toys
had somehow changed positions.
Sitting on the edge of my bed,
my Hungarian grandfather would point
to my bookshelf..
Sounding exactly like Bela Lugosi..
he would say, in a strangely dark and ominous tone
“Look, Michele.. the toys. They move.”
A work in progress by Michele Bledsoe
I am often surprised
when people have a hard time identifying
what is going on in my paintings.
It happens a lot.
“What is that… a face?”
they would ask..
squinting at my work.
“Is that part of a tree…?
I didn’t understand
why not everyone could see what I was seeing..
But, then again..
I suppose it would be somewhat disorienting
to find yourself thrust
without warning
into the deepest places
of a stranger’s heart.
Such is the power of art.
It’s hard to paint with a cat in your lap.
Many years ago I painted a portrait of my sister
for her Christmas present.
I am a slow painter.
If I remember correctly…
I started that painting
many months before Christmas
giving myself time
to linger over my work.
“Portrait of Sherry” by Michele Bledsoe
This Christmas
my sister asked for another portrait.
Not of herself,
but one of her beloved cat, Munchkin
who passed away this year..
leaving me 6 days to finish the painting.
6 days.
As of today, it is 5.
Did I decline her request?
Did I make excuses?
Did I explain that I simply had too many other things to do before Christmas?
No.
I just grabbed a blank canvas and started painting.
“Frozen Zoo” by Michele Bledsoe
I have a very distinct palette…
a range of colors that I use
every time I paint.
Raw umber
Chromium Oxide Green
Cobalt Blue
Turner’s Yellow
Red Oxide
Raw Sienna..
to name a few.
I know these colors intimately;
How they react to each other..
all their moods
and subtleties..
I know them like I know
the landscape of my own heart.
But, when I started work on my painting Frozen Zoo
I did something outrageously impulsive
and decided to use a new color.
Not just a little taste of it..
not just dipping my toe in the water..
Instead, I stared at that strange tube of paint in front of me
and decided to cover a huge portion of my canvas with it.
That was my introduction to Prussian Blue.
A tremendous leap of artistic faith..
it was an epic struggle
to incorporate this alien color into my familiar palette.
It did weird things
when I mixed it with raw umber.
Is that a hint of green I see?
Yellow?
I never realized that blue could be so warm.
Flailing about and lost in unfamiliar territory
I refused to back down.
By the time the painting was completed
Prussian Blue was like an old friend..
battle tested and true,
it is a welcome addition
to my comfortable palette.
There is no place for cowardice in art.
