Painting with Plants

The miniature irises in my garden are the first to herald the coming Spring. From that point until the first freeze a battle ensues. My drive to paint pitted again a passion to dig in the dirt. My garden is an ever evolving living canvas. Plants are my paints. I play with their colors, textures and placement in much the same way. I have favorites that I come back to year after year, but new plants are explored with some succeeding, some failing. It's a learning process.

This past weekend I made my first nursery run of the year though I didn't intend to plant yet. Past experience taught me that waiting until the right time to plant often meant missing out on the best selection from those who were jumping the gun and buying too early. Particularly when it comes to the coleus that I always plant in my shaded bed. Right now they are filling the kitchen counter after the temperature dropped 30 degrees the day after I bought them (but I got what I wanted).

After I loaded up the two-tiered cart with plants at the nursery, I realized that I didn't have the strength to push it up an incline to go toward the area to pay. I get the most irritated at my illnesses when I'm caught off guard. I forget that I don't have the strength to do things I used to. The cart wasn't THAT heavy. An employee came by and offered help, which I accepted, though irrationally, I felt inept that an older woman was having to help me. I was compelled to explain that I had illnesses and was a little weak fearing that she might think I was lazy. I should have been able to move a stupid cart. She said that maybe the flowers would make me feel better. Flowers always make her feel better. Yes, I do love my garden and it definitely brings me joy.

This is when I came to a second realization of how my garden is a reflection of me. First, of course, it's another form of art. Another outlet for creativity. Secondly, the state of my garden also mirrors the state of my health. I thought about when we first moved into the house. The yard was wild, natural. Trees, yucca and cactus. Rock on the ground. No grass. I didn't want to tame it completely just provide some structure and places for plants that needed actual dirt to grow. I started excavating and building. Hauling rocks around. Bringing in dirt. Nothing could stop me. As I got sick, the beautiful garden I built suffered neglect. I'd try to work in it. At one point I couldn't last 15 minutes pulling weeds without total exhaustion. The summer I spent 6 weeks in the hospital, the summer I nearly died, my garden was drying up, brown with neglect, only the hardiest plants stood a chance. When I returned home, I was shocked at the change in the way it looked, but I also was unrecognizable to those who knew me. Even to myself. Slowly the garden and I are recovering. The damaged parts of ourselves regrowing together. Both of us flowering.

About the painting:

This piece, "Mum Shadows," is from a photo I took last Fall in my garden. The mums grow next to a sandstone boulder and I was attracted to the long blue shadows they cast onto the rock. They are of equal importance to this piece as the flowers themselves. I likely painted the first flower 5 different times trying to work out the best method of portraying the petals to stay true to the plant. Unlike the uniform, structured pots of mums that can be purchased each fall, I like to let mine grow back year after year so that they take on a more natural appearance. This piece will be on display

in the historic downtown square in Granbury, Texas for the Gardens of Granbury and Glen Rose painting and photography show April 27th through May 1st at Granbury Square Plaza. Stop by. I'll be painting both Friday and Saturday nights. I haven't signed it yet. I'm fighting with myself on whether it should horizontal or vertical

"Mum Shadows"

9x12

Acrylic on board

$325.00

See all of Rebecca's work at rebeccazook.com

Brain Stuck in Overdrive!

At some point in my life, I forgot how to turn my brain off. That may not seem like much of an issue at first. I tend to accomplish a lot in a short amount of time and have become a master multi-tasker. The problem is that when I get what I need to do done, I just move on to something else or come up with more things to do. Never just...stop.

As a child I would lay in the grass in the backyard and stare up at the sky. I would swear I could feel the earth turning and the hear the sound of air molecules moving. I felt the sun. I remember how when I closed my eyes my field of vision was a wash of red from the sun penetrating my eyelids and its blood vessels. Watching the sun move lower in the sky, I studied the way the changing light altered the way the surrounding landscape looked and felt. I say 'studied' but it was more through osmosis. Not some conscious, meticulous thought process, just feelings and impressions soaking into my soul.

The last couple of weekends have been quite nice and I've opened up the windows in the house. My drawing table is next to the door leading out into our screened porch. I opened it all the way. At some point I became aware of the breeze flowing through the room, the sound of birds singing, windchimes tinkling and I stopped painting for a moment. I felt a part of the Earth again. A connection I've been missing for some time now. I felt a calmness. It felt good.

When my husband and I went to South Carolina last November we spent a lot of time outdoors, but my brain was in full gear. Analyzing the surrounding landscape. Camera in hand. Looking for compositions for potential paintings. I never just stopped to enjoy myself without self-applied pressure to accomplish something.

Lately, I've been thinking about my responsibilities. Some necessary and unavoidable. I have to work a day job. I have to have the medical insurance. Fortunately, as a Graphic Designer I have a job that feeds my creative needs. I have to paint too. I just do. It's who I am. I am a driven person, and everything I've taken on I can accomplish, but at what price? I have chronic illnesses. They do impact me and I need to admit that to myself. Taking down time for my benefit alone is something that I NEED to do. Not fill up every minute of every day. Self-induced stress can only be doing harm.

On the commercial side, you have to be creative on demand to succeed. Not wait for 'inspiration' and I firmly apply this philosophy to Fine Art. At the same time, though, I believe that to keep the ideas flowing, I may need to take a step back in order to move forward. Clearing the conscious mind will leave room for the subconscious to breathe new life and creativity into the process.

There's an achievable balance here...somewhere. I need to get off this tightrope I'm walking onto solid ground and find it. One step back and 2 steps forward. I'll get there and hopefully calmer, happier and healthier than I am now.

About the painting:

This is the view from my back deck. One of our notorious Texas thunderstorms had just passed over. The low sun turned the clouds lavender and orange. Bee Creek is a natural creek (though artifically widened at points) that leads into Lake Granbury.

"Storm Clouds Over Bee Creek"

-Granbury, Texas

Acrylic on Board

16" x 12.25"

note: dimensions are unframed size comes framed

$595

• Go to painting on Rebecca's Website

• See all of Rebecca's work at www.rebeccazook.com

• Read more blog entries from Rebecca at rebeccazook.blogspot.com

Choose your option

painting $595.00 painting plus shipping $615.00 In Texas: painting plus tax $644.00 In Texas: painting, tax, shipping $664.00

The Science of Art

While flipping channels trying to find something to watch other than CSI or Law and Order...our defaults when nothing else seems to be on (and those shows are ALWAYS on), I ran across a news show that did a small piece on mirror neurons in the brain. I have a fascination with all things Science, so I was immediately drawn in. When you are performing an action, let just say bouncing a ball, certain neurons in your brain fire. Scientists discovered that if you watch someone else bouncing a ball, some of the same neurons still fire and if you even hear the sound of a bouncing ball those 'mirror' neurons fire in response. Our brains seem to be forming a simulation of the action in our minds. We experience it almost as if we were actually doing it. It's also been shown that if you watch someone getting poked with a needle, that this mirror system in the brain can cause neurons associated with pain to fire. You didn't actually get stuck. It may be all in your mind, but it causes a real physical response.

So what does this have to do with art. Many researchers now believe that the mirror neurons are responsible for our ability to empathize. Empathy is defined as the identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings and motives. You saw someone stuck with a needle and feel badly for them and the pain they had to experience. I think that without empathy, art wouldn't have the impact it does. Great works of art can certainly run you through a whole gamut of emotional responses. Bold brush stroke or vivid colors in an abstract might make you identify with the artist and imagine them angrily painting. If the work is figurative, the facial expression or pose of the figure will cause you to identify with the subject of the painting rather than the artist.

The next time you are at admiring a piece of art, thank those mirror neurons.

About the Painting:-click here to learn more about this painting
"Wednesday's Child"
Acrylic on Board
16" x 24"
note: dimensions are unframed size
comes framed
$795

See all of Rebecca's art at www.rebeccazook.com
Read more blogs by Rebecca at rebeccazook.blogspot.com

Choose an option

painting $795.00 painting plus shipping $815.00 in Texas: Painting plus tax $860.00 in Texas: Painting, shipping and tax $880.00

Art As Language

I looked up videos teaching ASL (American Sign Language) online and came across this statement, "250 signs will cover 90% of what is commonly spoken." I was shocked and not entirely sure what to think. The vastness of our language gives us the ability to communicate such subtle nuances of meaning and emotion. I relish the nuances and the creative use of language. 250 signs? Well, I guess if all you want to accomplish is basic communication, some might see this as a good thing.

Art is similar. Anyone can pick up a brush and paints and given a little instruction and time come up with a pleasing piece. I think the best painters, though, aspire to much more. They are able to evoke a 3-dimensional space, movement or emotion from the viewer with deliberate brushstrokes. Small and tight or large and loose, each has the potential to draw you farther into the work or convey a specific emotion just like words in a novel. It's amazing to me to look at a flat 2 dimensional piece and have a response, to feel something. When I get a response like that from a stranger to a piece I created, it's truly the ultimate compliment.

Space, tone, texture, color, composition, balance, symmetry, movement...just a few tools that painters have at their disposal and of course each medium has its own inherent qualities to consider. Mastery of them can take a lifetime.

Keep exploring. Never stop learning. That's my plan.

About the painting:

"Late Lunch"

16" x 12" (art dimensions not including frame)

Acrylic on board

$1,200

A scene from a BBQ restaurant in Keller, Texas

See all of Rebecca's art at www.rebeccazook.com

Stop then Go

A friend I know in real life posted on Facebook that she was going to start painting again after a long hiatus. Glass had been her medium of choice for years and she was experiencing some trepidation about returning to painting. Most responses indicated not to worry...everything you do is great. Personally, I wouldn't find that very helpful. If you jump into it waving your paintbrush around like Harry Potter with his wand expecting some magical connection between your brain and brush, you're just going to end up turning yourself into a toad and wondering how things went so terribly wrong. Clear the cobwebs first and don't get disappointed if the first few forays aren't quite perfect. I went through this firsthand.

When I first started painting again after nearly 7 years of not painting, I was somewhat terrified. Questions plagued me. Can I still do this? What medium should I use? How big? How small? What style? What subject? What if I fail?

That was the real fear…what if I fail. I think my personal identity had become so entangled with my artistic skill that if I failed, who would I be? No matter what subject I became interested in as a kid, I was always still an artist whether I realized it or not. I wanted to be a marine biologist, so I read books by Jacques Cousteau and drew dolphins and whales. I wanted to be a veterinarian and drew all kinds of animals. I wanted to be an archeologist or anthropologist, so I drew hieroglyphics that I saw at the King Tut exhibit or drew the evolutionary stages of man. I loved the science, still do, but I loved drawing and painting more.

I had continued to work as a graphic designer or freelance illustrator, so it wasn’t as if I had stepped away from art all together, but staring at a blank canvas was not the same to me as staring at a blank computer screen with a given set of elements to work with…the product, the copy, the marketing goal. The blank canvas allowed for an infinite number of choices. Choices that were all mine to make. Making the wrong choice terrified me. You might be thinking, “there aren’t any wrong choices in art,” I wouldn't agree and in my mind every mistake is permanent, non-erasable. When I have made a mistake, I beat myself up more than anyone else ever could.

I think much of my problem was that I always knew who I was. I never HAD to explore or try new things to figure out what I wanted to do. I had never really floundered in any part of my life. I had never spectacularly failed at anything. A painting professor I had in college told me that most of his students were like sponges, trying out all the styles or suggestions he offered, but I wasn’t. I integrated into my work what I thought fit and disregarded the rest. He was neither complimenting me or criticizing me, merely pointing out a characteristic I wasn’t consciously aware of. I really hadn’t been aware of this trait in myself and I think I missed out on new discoveries or personal revelations because of it.

I did finally choose a medium, realized that I hated canvas and preferred to paint on hard board, and decided not to limit myself to one particular subject. The fear of failure still hovers above me. It’s just part of my nature, I can never really banish it. I have discovered that the paintings I wanted to throw in the lake at some point during their creation are usually the ones people respond to the most. It seems that the more I push myself and do struggle the stronger the result.

I have learned more about myself through my art. Setting up a challenge and working through the struggle is how to grow as an artist and as a person. I try not to become complacent or paralyzed by fear. I’m learning to take chances. My art is still completely tangled up in how I perceive myself, but I think I like it that way.

About the Painting:
"Mini Iris 2"
Acrylic on Board
6" x 4"
note: dimensions are unframed size-comes mounted in black floater frame
$175.00
These miniature irises are blooming in my garden right now. The first sign that spring is on its way.

Snowmaggedon...and you thought you had it bad...

In honor of Snowmaggedon, I'm posting "Jack in January Snow."

I've been stuck in the house since Monday evening when the ice storm followed by snow hit. I know many of you are in the same boat. We knew it was coming and prepared by buying groceries on the way home from work (day job as a Senior Graphic/Web Designer in Ft. Worth). I got the last of the broccoli and carrots and 2 of the last 5 red bell peppers and was surprised those were on people's must have list. What we weren't prepared for was that our relatively new furnace would cease functioning.

At 10 pm Tuesday, we suspected we had a problem when the inside temp dipped noticeably. Did I mention the ice storm? No one from the Heat/AC company was willing to venture out to help us. I dug out a couple of electric heaters and a heating pad. Our main worry was the parrots. At least the dogs and cats had their own personal fur coats. The receptionist, who the Heat/AC company phone was forwarding to, sitting in her nice WARM house, says nothing could be done. We moved the parrots to the bathroom and left the overhead heater running and got the temperature up to near 60 for them at least.

Wednesday morning the house was at 44 degrees and I had 3 cats sleeping on me. Within minutes the power goes off. Crap! What is going on. Now we think this is even more serious than just the heater. It's off from 7am to 7:15am, oddly precise. I turn the TV on as soon as we regain power to find out that we are experiencing rolling brownouts because several power plants failed overnight and the remaining ones can't cover the dramatically increased load. (Note: The majority of Texas is it's own self-contained power grid. If you'd like to read "why Texas has its own power grid" visit http://www.slate.com/id/2087133/)

Another call to the Heat/AC company, toasty warm woman answers and is reluctant to do anything. We knew one of their techs lived somewhere in our neighborhood, my husband asked (just short of demanded) his phone number and got it. The man said he was unable to navigate his driveway, but he did talk my husband through checking several possibilities to no avail. Everything seemed fine. My husband (who grew up in Kentucky and thinks that all Texas drivers are wimps when it comes to winter weather) drove over to the tech's house, brought him back to our house and made him a cup of coffee to help keep warm. The dogs were thrilled with the visitor and insisted on 'helping' him. At least the running around was keeping them warm. The outside temperature was in the single digits and I was unrecognizable with my 3 layers of clothes, a coat and hat, plus a blanket draped around me.

The issue was with a couple of pressure valves "that never break." Of course they needed to be ordered. Why stock something that never breaks and no one was at work there either to place an order. He did give us a small space heater to add to our collection. After several tripped breakers, we finally figured out what we could plug in where. The dogs pretty quickly found that the prime spots were in front of the heater and I had several cats vying to lay on me with the heating pad. Still freezing, even with the heaters, we called Home Depot to make sure someone was actually there, "please come buy something" was the response. I just wanted to get in the car with the heater cranked all the way up. The roads, weren't really all that bad. The bridge over the lake on 51 was significantly ice free. The landscape was lovely as were several frozen fountains we passed. Unfortunately, Home Depot only had 3 propane heaters left, which we didn't really want. Next stop Lowe's down the road. They were in better shape and we came home with 2 ceramic heaters.

We set the new heaters up in the bedroom. The only place in the house without a vaulted ceiling. I put the smaller, borrowed heater in the adjoining bathroom and we gathered up 3 parrots, 5 dogs, 5 cats and us and went into the bedroom. At least we tried to. This was a little too much closeness for a few who have now chosen to stay in the colder parts of the house, though we have forcibly made them stay in the room long enough to warm up periodically through the day. Plus the oldest dog, seems to be having a bit of a gas issue.

We're in good shape to wait this out, right? Husband tries to take a shower, I try to paint in my normal area, which is not in the warm bedroom. Another rolling brownout rolls in. Husband walks back to where I am. I think he's waiting for the power to come back on. Not it...the shower drain is frozen and the water just fills up the basin. Sigh...really? Really! How did we offend thee lady Karma. I try to paint once the power is back on, but numb fingers and toes make it quite uncomfortable. It's time to call it a day.

39 degrees in the house Thursday morning. I wake with a Border Collie and a German Shepherd wedged between me and my husband. My intent was to brave the ice and go to work to warm up, though the local news was still adamant that people should stay off the roads if possible. Schools were still closed. We decided that the birds would freeze to death and/or the pipes would freeze if we turned off the space heaters and we certainly didn't want them running if we weren't here. Since the clutch went out on my car on Friday, we didn't want to leave one of us stranded without transportation, so we both stayed home.

"Oh, well we can't very well send someone to Carrollton to pick up the parts with ice still on the roads. It will probably be Monday," says the unsympathetic woman who I now wish was trapped in her house with the thermostat stuck at 100. It's 39 degrees in our house! She wouldn't last 10 minutes over here. Sooooooo, do you think you can have them overnight the parts directly to our house instead of waiting for the roads to be better to send someone? She'll see. Grumble. Grumble.

So I can't watch TV, because that room is freezing. I can't paint comfortably. I can't take a shower.

Yes, something else can still go wrong. You guessed it, the toilet drain is frozen. If you wait, the bowl will drain, liquid...eventually. Not paper...or other things. Husband makes a bathroom run into town. So I sit here on the bed. Currently 3 dogs, 3 cats and the 3 parrots. The number of furry creatures changes at least once every 30 minutes as someone wants in or out. We feel like hotel doormen, but the parts should arrive sometime tomorrow and I will be waiting anxiously for the delivery driver on Friday. I thought snow days were supposed to be fun.

About the painting:

"Jack in January Snow"

Water-Soluble Oils on Canvas Board

11" x 16.5" note: dimensions are unframed size comes framed

$495

See all of Rebecca's work at rebeccazook.com

All Creatures Great and Small

I had intended to write on a totally different subject, but realized that 5 of my last 6 paintings posted were of animals, so thought this would be more appropriate.

I have always had a strong connection with animals. Not just to the normal cats and dogs. Fur, feathers or scales, it didn't matter. I was captivated. I could relate to them more than people, easily getting inside their heads and understanding their motivations, their reactions, their fears. One of my favorite books I had as a kid was a field guide to bats that I bought with allowance money at the Heard Museum in McKinney, Texas. The grocery store carried an 'animal encyclopedia' book series. My mom would buy one each week. I'd be excitedly waiting for each one. Unfortunately, I never got the entire set, but I read what I had over and over and studied the pictures of the animals. Neighbors would ask my parents if they could 'borrow' me if their pet escaped and wouldn't come to them...they would come to me. Animals drawings were certainly the bulk of my artwork growing up and I return to the subject periodically for my paintings...and there is likely a pet hair or two embedded in every painting I've created.

One of the earliest pieces that I remember doing was of a cat, in school, probably second grade. I was concentrating hard when the teacher reached down with a pencil and drew a new foot on my cat, suggesting I should do it differently. I couldn't believe she had just drawn on top of my picture. I didn't say anything, but I know I shot her a very angry look, which would have surprised her since I was one of the really quiet, shy kids. She never did that again, though.

Walk into my home and it's obvious the love affair never ended. Currently we have 5 dogs, 5 cats and 3 parrots. Most were adopted or found, some had suffered abuse. The furry ones have plenty of room to run in a semi-rural setting. Having 3 supposedly antagonistic species living together has not been an issue. The dogs play with the cats. Some of the cats think they are dogs, one parrot meows, the other parrots think that we are all one big flock and are most at ease when everyone is in the same room.

One of the qualities I love best about animals is their honesty. You often hear people talk about the unpredictability of animals. I disagree. Their emotions are completely out in the open. You just have to be paying attention. Read their emotions through body language and you know exactly what they want and how they are going to act. People hide their true feelings. They may say things just to hurt you, or the opposite, not say something for fear of hurting you. My husband has this quality of honesty and I never have to guess whether he is concealing something. Sometimes my emotions get bruised, but I prefer that to having to guess what he is really thinking.

Animal intelligence is something so many people still dismiss and I don't understand why. I have watched our pets over the years do fairly complex problem solving. Do people think that admitting animal intelligence somehow diminishes our own? Why would it? Here is one example that actually flies in the face of my earlier honesty comments. Our Australian Shepherd mix LIES. I've caught her in many over the years. This is my favorite story.

I taught Turbo when she was quite young that if she found something on the floor that she wanted; she had to come ask me if she could have it. This worked well. I'd either say 'yes' or I'd take it, but praise her for bringing it to me. No downside for her.

One day I'm sitting on the sofa and she comes and sits right in front of me and stares at my face. I ask her what she wants and proceed through the entire list of possibilites...do you need to potty....are you thirsty...play...treat...etc. No response. None. I finally wave my hand dismissively and say 'okay. okay.' Immediately she leaves, which I found odd. Within seconds I hear the sound of fabric tearing. I look behind the sofa and see her with a sock; holding one end down with her front paws and the other end in her mouth pulling on it. I start to yell. Then I picture her sitting in front of me and I come to the realization that she had that sock stuffed completely in her mouth and 'technically' I said okay. I didn't yell. I didn't react. I just sat back down.

Some of you are saying, yeah, yeah, I don't believe it. Well, I wasn't quite convinced myself. If she deliberately misled me, imagine the forethought that went into it. It's pretty complex.

A couple weeks go by and here she is again. Sitting in front of me, not responding to any of my suggestions on what she wants. Only this time I reach down to open her mouth. Suddenly, her jaws have the strength of an alligator's. Turbo is not about to let me see what is in there. I start sticking my fingers between her teeth and prying. She finally gives in. There sitting on the middle of her tongue is a Hershey's Kiss. Still wrapped in foil. Paper flag intact. Not a single tooth mark.

Of course I took it. Neither one of us can eat chocolate, so I have no idea where she found it, but this confirmed that I was right. She was definitely plotting to deceive me into giving her something that she knew I wouldn't otherwise AND without outright disobeying me. She was only 2 years old. I'm not sure that a human 2-year old could formulate such a plot.

Miss Turbo is 17 now and still quite a character. I'm thankful for every day I have left with her. I know the end cannot be far off now and even though I will be devastated by her passing, I wouldn't have missed knowing her for the world.

It's been said that how we treat animals today is how we will be judged in the future. I agree. Every living creature deserves respect. Domestic or wild. We should give them the best life we can.


About the painting:
One of 2 kittens we recently adopted

"She Had a Busy Day"
8" x 9"
Acrylic on Board
(contact me if you are interested in this piece)

See all of Rebecca's paintings at rebeccazook.com

"Just Waking" aka Chloe Monster

This is kitten Chloe. I was tempted to name this "Chloe Monster" since that is the nickname she has acquired. I painted this over several evenings. Two of which were interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. First a small glass containing a single daisy had been knocked off the counter. The second was the Christmas garland bannister decoration being pulled off with pine cones, berries and glass ornaments scattered everywhere. Chloe had a little help from sister Olive with that one. A second painting of her sleeping -looking deceptively sweet- will be posted soon. Actually, both kittens are incredibly affectionate. They are just at a highly curious stage of development.

"Just Waking"
9"x8"
Acrylic on board
(contact me if interested in this piece)

View all my work at rebeccazook.com

>

What Makes Art Good?

Over the last couple of weeks I've gotten e-mails, seen Facebook messages and run across documentaries that all lead back to the very basic question of... "what makes art good?"

Not something easily answered. There is certainly no consensus in the art world among artists. There is a movement afoot. A return to classicism. That may not be an entirely accurate word for it, but there are artists pushing hard to refocus the art world on highly realistic styles of painting. They wonder aloud, "if a patron wandered into a gallery or museum and saw a Picasso or Mondrian without the name or price tag present, would they still assign such an incredible value to it?" They have a point.

Some people think artists like and appreciate all styles of art. There are probably some who do, but overall we are just as likely to be opinionated and say "that looks like a 3-year old did it" as anyone else. Personally, abstract usually doesn't do a lot for me. That said, I have seen some beautiful abstracts that have completely captivated me. I think some people see a piece of 'art' and think, wow, I have no idea what that means, so it must be art. It must be good. Why? If you don't understand or connect to the piece why buy it?

I've watched it happen in local art auctions. Certain key words open wallets a little wider...nationally-recognized, solo shows, featured in books, gallery representation...suddenly those works become worth more even when works of equal or greater ability are present and sold for much less. Something that bothers me even more than matching art to your sofa colors is buying art purely because someone else says it's good. What's the point?...okay, I know, the hope is that some time in the future this piece of art will skyrocket in value and fund your retirement, but really, what are the odds. Buy what you love (and can afford) and proudly display it.

I recently watched a documentary on N.C. Wyeth and family. Apparently Andrew was waging a constant battle within himself over whether his work was illustration or painting. He wanted to be a painter. This I can relate to. I was trained as an illustrator, but I don't think it's always so easy to draw a line between the two. Why does one have to be better than the other? Sometimes what we value in the fine art world seems so arbitrary to me.

I like impressionism very much...can't do it myself...but I love it. Most people don't know that in their own lifetime, the impressionists weren't accepted into major shows or were hung in the back out of the way. I mean, who ever heard of a yellow sky! They were shunned and had to start their own shows to get their work in front of the public. Now we highly admire their work.

Perhaps as a society we go through phases, but what drives them, the media? I'm not entirely sure. I think all artists should study design, color, form. Learn from the masters of the past, but in the end, I think there is room for all styles of art...to suit all tastes of buyers. Is it good? Make YOUR OWN decision.

About the Painting:

Not yet titled

Acrylic on Board

12" x 16"

$445.00

This is a field off highway 51 between Granbury and Weatherford, Texas that I am rather fond of. Late summer sun setting the grasses aglow.