Density and light

This week’s prompt is “density and light”. Living in the Berkshires for over 20 years, I grew accustomed to painting the view from my studio window; dense with trees, shrubs and mountains. If you’ve been following my posts, (you can subscribe at andreafeldmanstudio.blogspot.com), you know that for the past several months, I’ve been painting sky, water and sand. Those pictures, of Florida, are very light; simple, sunny and expansive. Today’s picture is also Florida, but it is rather dense. It has a different feeling. It felt different in my body to paint it. Tighter.

Scaled Down 2

Scaled down 2

I peered over the canasta cards in my hand and had the thought that while Thanksgiving was small this year, it was a joyous ocassion filled with love, laughter, and fabulous dessert. It was a quiet day, rather serene as a result of good planning, preparation and of course, the best participants. I actually had time enough to paint the first layers before company came. I finished it in between the final credits and cleaning up.

Something old, something new, something smaller

Well I’ve painted variations of this picture several times. This is the latest version which I scaled down. The others were on 11”x15” paper. This one I did on 7 1/2” x 11”. It was finished in no time, but I think I enjoyed painting the larger ones more. With this one, I grew impatient with the details. I needed to use a smaller brush, load up with paint more often and made shorter and tighter brush strokes. The finished larger piece also has more impact. The difference in scale is not revealed by viewing online.  It’s impossible to tell the size from the photos. Andreafeldmanstudio.blogspot.com

   

Something old, something new-different perspective.

This new picture has the same elements as the one before; sky, shrubs, grasses, but I changed the  proportions and made the sky bigger and the foreground smaller. It changed the feel of it for me. I think the sky can be even bigger. Next time. Florida has such huge skies.

Something old, something new, too

I’m continuing to respond to the blog prompt of ‘Something old, something new’.
I lived inland for over 20 years where I developed a love of painting landscapes. I painted many pictures of  trees and mountains. What’s new for me is painting beach, sky and ocean. For this piece, I referenced a photo I took the other day at the beach. This picture shines new light on  the textures I’ve grown to love.

Something old, something new

Our blog prompt this week is something old, something new. So many thoughts come to mind, but what I’m working on right now fits in nicely. What’s old is water; ocean. Can’t get much older than that. I’ve many paintings that include water, but that’s not the focus. Also, I usually just allude to it by making a streak of blue or green.What’s new is that I’m studying how to paint the water. So beautiful and challenging. In this piece I tried creating the foam with white oil pastel.

Do some thing!

The blogmates and I did not take on a new prompt this week. We were all otherwise occupied. I found myself facing a blank page, having the desire to produce something but not knowing what to paint. I generally paint as a meditation; to relieve anxiety and to restore order and balance. When I don’t know what to paint, I need to do something to get the energy moving.
I’ll use the less precious practice paper and maybe start doodling, or divide up the paper into squares and draw something different in each one. The idea is to do something rather than nothing. It’s easier to develop an idea from a place of movement rather than stillness. I did  manage to complete a picture. It’s a practice piece. Water is so interesting and so challenging to paint.

Roots? Nay, nay

When my blogmates, Deb Koffman, Michele Beck and I decided to continue with “roots” as the prompt for another week, I was excited. I thought. Trouble is, thinking up something is one thing, drawing it is another. I scanned an article yesterday that said that if you’re afraid of drawing something new, you resort to the same old stuff you’ve painted before. Hmmm. Didn’t seem to hurt Degas, Monet, Mary Cassatt......

Back to My Roots

I continue to ponder this week's prompt of 'roots'. Today I thought of 'heritage'. Where did my family come from?  I figured I didn't have to do a DNA test as my sister told me a while ago that she did one. The result she got was something like 99% Russian. Makes sense. In Brooklyn, where I was born and lived until I was about seventeen, there are still neighborhoods where everyone looks like me. Strong roots.

This week’s blog prompt is ‘roots’. Sometimes I overthink the prompt and end up with nothing. I may have ideas but I either start something and not complete it, or it may never leave the confines of my head. That’s what happened last week. The prompt was ‘growth’. It sparked a lively conversation....with myself. I never put anything on paper. So I’m just doing a simple doodle here, not second guessing myself, just posting.

 October is breast cancer awareness month.   

Please go get a mammogram.

Last week's prompt was 'swimming'. In response,  I dusted off this story that I wrote a while ago in our memoir group.

Summer Times


We pulled on sweatshirts over our pajamas, hopping across the cold linoleum to watch tv while we ate breakfast. The porch was enclosed, but there was no heat anywhere in the bungalow. By around 11 AM, the sun had began to pour in through the windows. We shed layers as mom determined it was a beach day. Most were. We were at our country house for the summer with our mother. Dad came up from the city on weekends.
It took a while for us to get ready. We struggled into our damp bathing suits that had spent the night on the clothesline. We put our beach jackets over them while Mom made our sandwiches, usually canned tuna, to eat on the beach.

Mom didn’t drive so we walked down the hills to get to the beach. Sometimes we would see Sadie. She was a friend of Aunt Esther’s and had a summer cottage that we passed along the way. I remember Sadie wore a black bathing suit even when gardening, and had a deep reddish tan that seemed permanent. She had a son named Junior that I had a crush on. His skin matched his mother’s with a tan the same color, and a black bathing suit, too. Mom almost always stopped to talk and my sister and I would start whining after what seemed like forever. “Let’s go, you can talk to her on the beach,” we said, tugging on mom’s white  terry jacket. 

Our neighbor, Marie Reina sold beach passes and church raffle tickets from her ‘office’ near the gate. She kindly stashed my mother’s chair so we didn’t have to carry it down. We weren’t supposed to tell anyone.

We set up our blanket, putting shoes on each corner to hold it down. Then one of us had to go to the office and get Mom’s chair. Marie would be sitting inside the little hut. The top half of the door was open, her cigarette dangled from the side if her mouth, one eye  squinting from the smoke. She could see us coming and handed the chair over the closed bottom half of the door.

Mom put her chair in the water at the edge of the lake so she could watch us. She never came in. Her standard line when asked was that she couldn’t get her bathing suit wet. She never elaborated as to why it was so. When she told her little joke, people laughed politely. Years later, we found out she didn’t know how to swim.
We sat on the blanket to eat our lunch. It had been sitting in a paper bag under a beach towel to protect it from the sun. By the time we ate our sandwiches the white bread was nice and gummy. 

There was a bus that left about once an hour that went up to the hills and could let us off right in front of our house. Very often though, mom wanted to stay later than the last bus, but only if someone would drive us home. Walking down was one thing, but up was pretty tough. Mom was pretty good at finding rides, though not everyone was a good driver. Sometimes we were lucky to get home safely.

Missing the Autumn

My palette here in Florida is soooo different from the colors I’d been using for years in the Berkshires. This picture sort of popped in as I was studying up on palm trees and tropical sky. I do miss the change of seasons.andreafeldmanstudio.blogspot.com

Missing

This week’s blog prompt is ‘Missing’ I’m enjoying painting sky and beach, but when I finished this picture, I felt like I was forgetting something. I’ve been here in Florida for almost three months, but it hasn’t quite sunk in yet that we’re not going back to the Berkshires. We live here now! We are not on vacation.

Free and Easy? Not!

For me, when I’m in flow; when I paint with a sure hand, when I just take delight in the process. That is how I would describe a piece as ‘free and easy’, which is this week’s blog prompt.

While I did enjoy painting this path to the beach, I struggled with it and as a result, it looks dark and heavy. I may try it again, now that I learned a thing or two.

Watercolor

Wow! It’s been a long time since I’ve posted. I’m thinking that I’d like to continue to share my creative process. I’m always in a place of discovery, but especially now since I’ve relocated to Florida just a few weeks ago. The tropical environment is radically different. And the skies are so huge and so beautiful. I’ve been awed by the sunrise and sunset. The clouds are amazing. I’ve been taking lots of photos and now experimenting with watercolor on paper to capture what I see.

Hello. Is anyone out there?

Apologies if any of you wrote to me over the past few months and did not get a reply. I had technical problems with Blogger and got all caught up in trying to move the blog, and/or start a new one. I got overwhelmed and stalled out.

I don't know if it's working now, but was inspired to test it out by a blog buddie who just recently started posting again.

I changed, (hopefully), the way the comments can be posted. I know that it was not user friendly before.

Would you please just let me know if this is working by leaving a message in the comment box? 


I'd like to start posting again but not sure if I should stay with Blogger.
Thank you
hugs to all

Last Call

It's almost over....
My abstract watercolors will come down on Friday, August 26th.

Please stop by Bagels Too, 166 North Street Pittsfield and have a look. If you'd like a tour, email me and I will meet you there and tell you how these 31pieces came about.

The Show Must Go On!

I haven't been blogging. Haven't been painting much. Been busy with this and that.

I wish there was another solution for presenting watercolors besides framing, but painting on canvas or boards are too risky. I'm sticking with paper so I can play and experiment fairly inexpensively.

I'm getting ready for a solo show that begins August 5, for First Friday's Artswalk.
The curator for the show came to the studio and picked out the pieces. A number of the pictures had been in storage and I hadn't seen them in a while. It's interesting to see what she chose and how they look together as a group. I've been hanging them up on my studio walls as I finish framing. Fun.
I like looking at them.

Hello. How am I?

I am in an upset. That's how I am. I'm not going to go into a rant. It feels like everywhere I turn people are ranting. Or raving. But you know how it is when at the end of the day, in the stillness and the dark, you just feel rotten? Not like you have a headache or like you're coming down with a cold, but just a feeling of unease. Like how can I sleep with this feeling of doom wafting over me?
That's how I felt last night as I was laying in bed wanting to nod off.

My eyes wide open I spied a piece of paper I had unearthed earlier in the evening. It was large, 22"x30", the size of my usual watercolor paper, but had a weird texture. It felt like it had a plastic coating. I don't know where it came from or why I had it. I sat down at my table and tore it in half so it would fit on my drawing board.

There's always a jar of clean water, a box of colors and a variety of brushes waiting for me. I taped the paper to the board and just stared at it, noticing it's texture, how the masking tape secured the edges, and the little tear I accidentally made in one corner as I was preparing it.

I picked up a brush that had a little wooden handle and a sponge head made of that soft, dark grey foam. It took a few tries to get the paint on it and then onto the paper. I dipped and dabbed, pushed and dragged, totally bypassing the tumult in my head. I looked up to survey what I had done. I was glad that it was now on paper and no longer inside...well, mostly.