Still Life Interruptus
10" x 14" watercolor on Arches 140 lb. cold pressed paper
The second painting in the 'Still Life Interruptus' series
A couple of weeks ago I thought it would be fun to try and paint some vegetables. By themself. In a still life. My son (the two year old above), however, had other ideas.
I had them all set up on the table right in the perfect spot of sunshine. Then my other son, who was getting ready to go to kindergarten and couldn't find his backpack, called for me. So, I left those poor defenseless tomatoes all alone on the table and went to track down a Spiderman backpack.
Now I guess I miscalculated the appeal of tomatoes left unattended because when I came back I found them with little bites taken out of them, one still in the culprit's hands, with tomato juice dripping down his chin.
I stood there with my hands on my hips, surveying the carnage and trying not to laugh when he looked up at me and said, "Not an apple."
Then went back to eating the tomato.
Final score: The two year old still life interruptus, fruit and vegetable snacker-2
I don't think I'm meant to be a still life artist. But I can't complain, this painting was a lot more fun and interesting than what I had planned. :)
June 8 edit: I love the spontaneous feel of this painting so I'm going to have a new series of paintings called, yup, you guessed it, 'Still Life Interruptus' of which this painting is the second. Here is the post for the first painting 'Please?'
A note about the painting process for 'Still Life Interruptus': When Alvaro Castagnet came to the Utah Watercolor Society demo last month he said something that really stuck with me. He talked about how watercolorists have one chance to gain the attention of the big galleries. One chance against the 'king' of media, oils. Paint with passion, be bold, take risks, strive for mood, ambience, grit. The unexpected.
I pushed myself further with this painting than I usually do, although I don't think it was intentional. I wasn't thinking of Alvaro's words at the time I painted it, but remembered them when I was finished.
This painting came from my own intuition, rather than a set of rules to follow, or any acedemic knowledge of 'how one should paint'.
I exaggerated colors and lighting. Pushing them further with each glaze. A couple of times I set the painting across the room, stepped back and looked at it, and felt sure that I ruined it. Then decided to try one more thing, which worked (Huzzah!), and made it into the painting I'd been envisioning the whole time.
Sometimes we need to just go with our gut. Trust our intuition. Paint what we feel, with passion and boldness. Rules be danged. :)