Waving Fields

In some ways I've been given a unique opportunity in this life. I've been forced to face mortality on two fronts. First my own when doctors were completely baffled by my symptoms and my health slowly declined over a 3-year period. Death was a very real possibility. Secondly, the sudden passing of my husband earlier this year in a traffic accident. The range of emotions I've experienced and my need to understand them have given me great insight into myself. Facing my own mortality went a long way in preparing me emotionally before losing my husband. I honestly don't think I would have survived it with my sanity intact if I hadn't already learned that I had emotional strength (I had previously thought myself weak). I had hope. I had a belief that not only did a future exist, but a future where I could be happy again.

I initially thought that my lesson was to appreciate the NOW. To take each day as it came and make the minutes count. I still think this is valid, but for me personally, I need more. I could drive myself crazy worrying about time wasted and only succeed in making myself sicker in the process. Time where I could be doing something more important. Time where I could be making a difference. What I need is to continue to believe in a future. To work toward long-term goals. This is where I have always excelled and I believe it was my saving grace. It will also allow me be less obsessive about the day-to-day. I can relinquish control over each second of each minute. Though precious, those seconds can be grasped so tightly and infused with such importance that they lose their joy.

I've watched other people pass in and out of my life, floundering. Not knowing what they were meant to do. Not knowing what makes them happy or where their passion lies. I've always known and realized how fortunate I was to know. I was an artist. From a small child I worked to perfect my ability and made it my life's passion.

It was simple for me.
I am an artist.

When I was sick, I kept painting even when my hands shook so bad that the brush skipped over the board. It was a needed escape from the pain and worry. After Tom died, I kept painting. It brought joy back in the midst of loss.

A few years ago, I painted Tom standing on a tower of rocks looking across a vast, nearly barren plain. I called it "Looking to His Past." I believe you need to understand the past before facing the future. I'm glad Tom nor I knew the limited scope of his future. I am thankful for the time we had together. I will never forget it, but now I'm moving toward a new future, not the one that I had planned. I've been forced to adapt, but I CHOOSE to be happy.

In looking to my future, I'm assigning myself a task. I've decided to undertake a year-long project and focus on a single subject. This is an idea I've entertained before, but it seems to have more urgency now. I know I NEED to do this even if I can't explain the why in any sort of rational manner.

If you know my work, you might suspect that I get bored with a subject easily. I do. I bounce from landscapes, to florals, to animals to interiors and more, but there is once I keep coming back to...the grasses. They exemplify quiet and peace to me. Nothing is so soothing as standing before a field of endless wild grasses watching them sway in slightest breeze. Mesmerizing. They allow you to glimpse the wind. The patterns ever changing across their expanse. An ocean in their own right. I will paint the grasses and let their calm wash over me.

"Texas Textures"

-Granbury Area, Texas

Acrylic on Board

16" x 12"

note: dimensions are unframed size

price includes frame

$595

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

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Sparrow's Garden

Newly Completed...

"Sparrow's Garden"

Acrylic on Board

24" high x 15" wide

SOLD

To read about the creation of this piece go to (post titled: The Good The Bad and The Ugly)

To see all my paintings visit my website
www.rebeccazook.com

Dragons

‎"Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed." -G.K. Chesterton

I recently posted this quote on my Facebook page. It struck a cord with me. Overcoming fears, perceived or actual, is something that's been a struggle for me for much of my life. My youngest sister has done a lot of research on shyness, since her daughter and she, like me are innately shy, cautious people. We analyze every new situation looking for danger and thinking of ways to prevent harm. It's instinctual, likely genetic. Society doesn't value those traits, instead bold and fearlessness are admired. If we were a flock of birds or herd of deer, though, it's the shy wary ones, ever watchful, that perceive danger first and warn the rest of the flock, saving their lives.

Of the tortoise and the hare...I am the tortoise.
The ant and the grasshopper...I am the ant.

I've always been an artist. I went through a period where I did not do any fine art painting...that's for another blog. One of the first Christmas gifts I got from my husband was a bunch of acrylic paints, brushes and canvas board. This was around 2003. I was grateful for the encouragement, but I stared at them, doubting my ability. Slowly, the way of the cautious, I regained confidence. I started entering shows. I started winning awards. I was asked to have solo shows. Okay, maybe people actually liked my work.

I think the most touching compliments I received were on a piece called "Hands by Candlelight." Several people told me it made them cry. It was a simple composition of a pair of hands holding a votive candle. Each saw something personal in it. Some knew my story, some didn't. I was dumbfounded that I could elicit such a response with my work.

So, after much thought, planning and risk assessment, I decided to start placing advertisements in national magazines for my art. The first quarter page ad should be coming out within days in Southwest Art.

I'm both excited ...and worried... some of you will understand.

Visit my website to see all my artwork www.rebeccazook.com

The Good The Bad and The Ugly

It's a new year and I was honored to be invited to join the Daily Painters of Texas and Contemporary Fine Art International organizations. This is my first blog here, though I have done a bit of blogging in the past. I hope you enjoy my thoughts. I'm aiming for transparency...honesty.

I've recently started doing something I haven't done before...posting images of works in progress. This means showing not only the good, but potentially the bad and the ugly. This is something I wouldn't have even considered doing in the past. I know from my background in advertising how potent a carefully crafted image can be and how little it takes to nick and deflate it. I was also raised in an environment where every little mistake, perceived or actual, was ridiculed. Early on, I worked in secrecy. No one would see ANYTHING until it was as perfect as I could make it. Comments didn't roll off my back, but instead seeped slowly into the deepest parts of my brain chipping away at the facade of self-confidence I tried to project. It was a defense mechanism-learned self-preservation.

Like many people, it took a traumatic shake up in my life for me to reevaluate my actions. Walling myself off didn't just pertain to my art, but to most aspects of my life where I feared being hurt. I was in the hospital for several weeks due to a undiagnosed illness before I let my husband tell any friends or family I was there. It wasn't their business, I said. I didn't want to be the subject of gossip and I didn't want anyone to see me this way; unable to walk across the floor without falling, to even sit up by myself, hair falling out, body blown up like a balloon. I think it was more that I thought they wouldn't care. Wouldn't come. Even worse, they might pity me. I couldn't show anyone I was this weak. That I needed help. That would just prove everything I had drilled into me throughout much of my life. It wasn't until the doctors said, "You will die without surgery. Even with surgery, you will likely suffer major complications or still die," that I said okay. Even then, I didn't expect or ask anything of anyone.

So showing my errors, my mistakes, my flaws is particularly hard for me...on me. I'm working to be more open. I also believe that less experienced artists and non-artists need to know that art isn't always this effortless, romantic thing that just flows from the brush to the canvas...it's actually work. If it is always effortless, I'd say that the artist isn't challenging themselves, isn't objectively critiquing their art, isn't growing. There is always more to learn. You'll find a hunger for learning in a serious artist.

"Sparrow's Garden" is specifically for an art show to run concurrent with a Master Gardener's convention in my town this coming Spring. The painting and photography will all feature local gardens. Since I'm also a gardener, this is of my own garden and one of my cats, Sparrow. I typically work from photos and shot several of her on the sandstone boulder. I really liked her position in the picture at the left in the photo, but when I began painting, it became apparent that she wasn't integrating into the garden scene. After much debate with myself and friends online, I was asked to keep the cat in. I had considered painting her out completely. I looked for alternate positions. It is not easy to paint out something that you have put a lot of time into. It's hard to separate from the emotional attachment and be truly objective. A lot of artists can't bring themselves to do it, or have to put the painting away for a while and come back to it, but after looking at the 2 images side by side, the second position of the cat looks much better. One person said that it even looks like 2 completely different paintings.

So here I am. Still learning. Growing...and even Sharing.

http://www.rebeccazook.com