Pick a number, any number...

I paint on just about anything except canvas. I don't have any canvas. My shop is a metal shop and my first choice would be copper. I love what paint does on metal. It is not absorbed, won't stay where you put it and has a will of its own. It wants to become something. When I run out of copper sheets my next choice would be stainless steel. It never rusts allowing me to put the paintings outside and it has a sheen of its own adding an element to the painting.

This time of year I like to paint on kitchen foil, what this "3"

is painted on. The depth is in the material already and I use these paintings to wrap my Christmas presents. Yeah, if you unwrap a present properly with a bit of eagerness the paint will flake off. It is still a pretty package under the tree.

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I don't have a style

No style at all. This is my second oil painting and it can be representative of whatever you like. Call it what you want to. I am discovering that this art painting stuff is a bit like poetry. I write 'em you read 'em and find your own meaning!

Modern Art is color-coordinated. Will it go with the couch? Do I need to repaint the walls? Can you make this in Blue?

Some where I once read that next year's popular colors are found in French underware this year!

I think I need to go to France and do some research on this.

I paint with the colors I have, ten of them, that's enough. I am limitted by my ability but not my vision. I know what I want to do, just don't quite know how to get there. In the mean time I am playing and this is the poetry I am doing today.

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Painting with Oil

Well I turned 64 and received oil paints for my birthday so I had to play with them! This is my Very First Oil Painting. It is on metal, of course and now with my others' lives a quiet life only in the computer. I am happy, I have found a new toy!

It is a Small World

I do admit that I love the Statistics part of this blogging world, especially the World Map.

Countries turn Green when someone from there looks at your blog. It is a greening of the world and people of artistic persuasion can check in with each other. We are not alone by a long shot.

Your art may be different from mine and in fact because of the nature of artists, for sure it is.

We are all trying to make something, express a joy, uncover a tear, find beauty in the common

or wonder at the unusual.

It is easy for America and Canada to turn green I have a lot of friends on this continent but I am acquiring others! Australia turns green and countries in Europe and Nepal, India, Pakistan and Russia! I don't know you by name unless you leave a comment but I know of your visit and that we are kindred spirits, always hunting for a little light in the dark and a friend with whom

to continue this journey.

Thank you all who visit and especially those who stopped long enough to say "I was here".

Muse?

I have lost that Drive to create art and am not sure if or how I will get it back again, or what form it will take. I wonder what "Art" is, why it drove me before to create the physical out of

dreams and visions that I have had. I still have dreams but now they are swirling dervishes of language and I am dreaming in color. I don't know where to take this or whether it will go anywhere, but it is a bit like the steel, lumps of iron in my shop, wanting the heat from the fire, pounded on my forge until they become what was always within them. Art.

Maybe it is the economy. There is no excess money to purchase what I make and without sales I can't continue. Maybe it is the neuropathy in my hands. Everything I touch is like stirring a bucket full of cut glass. The steel does call for me but only offers pain.

I always start my tomato seeds in the greenhouse on April Fools Day and my garden is always my best art, creating a total environment that is really me, an island, my island in this narcissistic world we live in. That is four months from now. Plenty of time.

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A Little Piece of My Heart

.....literally! Most of my art is in steel and I cut myself all the time, leaving my DNA on each project I make. Now I wear gloves because the Neuropathy in my hands won't allow closer contact. I never wore gloves before the cancer, always wanting to get as close to my work as possible. I mostly weld vertically, my pieces tacked to a steel frame in my shop, much as an artist would paint. I like to weld a bit, adding this or that, and stand back and have a look. I like that perspective and the idea that I am making one huge giant picture. I like to touch what I am making, feel what it needs to be and create as I go along. I can get lost really easily while I am in my shop working on these pieces. Time stops or floats or zaps by in an instant. It makes no difference, it is not part of me. Who I am and what I do is in each piece I create and as it goes from my house to yours, you are litterally taking a piece of me with you!

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My Art is Temporary...

even what I make from steel will suffer the passage of time and succumb to the elements, rusting into the earth from which I found it. Like ice sculptures they will exist in memory only and then become a dream extinguished by the morning glare. I know that. It is an artists' futile attempt at immortality, creating something larger than life. Leaving behind traces in the sand to say "I was there"! I saw it and loved it even if I didn't understand it all.

My acrylic art is even shorter lived as I make no pretence of saving it at all. My paintings are photographed and transformed into the digital world of cyber space. I don't know what happens to them, looked at by others, maybe copied like stolen kisses, or glanced at and forgotten. They are lost loves into a nether world, out of reach and out of control or persuasion.

I keep them or copies of them like love letters in a box. They become a part of my diary.

They are experiences not captureable, a flicker in time. Sometimes I look back on them with amazement, astonished at how close I came. Other times I realize I have a long way to go. And all the time, pleased with myself for keeping a record, never timid, always shouting: "I was here and I did that!"

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