Thank you, thank you, thank you

This show wouldn’t have been possible without the help of many, many people.

I’d like to thank all of those people who submitted photos...everyone from friends and family (oh, and sorry about the insistent phone calls and emails bugging you to submit photos) to complete strangers who saw the blog or a postcard.

Thank you to the Ukrop's for the very generous permission to use their logo on Revelations.

Thank you to Thomas, wherever you are, for asking me the simple question (almost TEN years ago...) that changed my life, "What would you be doing if you could do anything at all?"

Thank you, Arlene, for guiding me in the yogic lifestyle...and letting me off the hook when it was obvious that I had overestimated my capabilities.

Special thanks goes to Becky Eschenroeder, Vinnie Gonzales and Tom Wilkerson; all very talented photographers who shared their photographs with me.

Thanks to my parents and sister for their help and support.

AND, extreme gratitude goes to Eti de Villiers for all of his amazing help with every facet of this show. Here's a photo of him hanging the quilt...if I had them, I would include photos of him helping me stretch some pretty large canvases, grommeting 800 corners (because, even with all of my weight on the grommet press, I couldn't make it work...oh darn), detailed planning and hanging of the photos, framing the paintings, hanging the paintings, lighting the paintings and graciously dealing with my freaked-out self.

The Show is Up!

Despite the aforementioned difficulties, the show went up (the final light was adjusted at 1:30 am that Friday...). The opening reception was well attended and everyone seemed to have a good time. Forgive the lack of details; I was a little fuzzy-headed...lack of sleep, too many inhaled fumes, etc., etc.

MY highlights (aka, things that I actually remember):

• Every portrait subject except for one (Rose-Colored Glasses) was present. It was great fun watching their reactions to other people’s reactions to their portraits, especially when those around them weren’t aware it was them. (Does that make any sense?)
  
• Seeing the Scottish contingent who came all the way from DC for the show...this was the tighty-whitey wearing kilt guy who was featured on this blog and in the photo quilt at the exhibit. (Come on, admit it...you always wondered what they wore under those kilts didn’t you???)
  
• Meeting my husband’s date.
  
• Introducing my husband to my date.
  
• My parents meeting my husband’s date. (Haha, ok, I should say my ex-husband, since we’ve been separated for two years, but that sounded funnier...and it really was the first time any introductions of the sort have been made...)
  
• Hearing the many stories that went with the submitted photos...stories of introspection and personal growth.

Absurdity

Those of you that have been to my studio have seen my blackboard wall with one of my favorite quotes:

"The absurd is the essential concept and the first truth."
- Albert Camus

Well this past week or so has been one of extreme absurdity. The consequences of procrastination have reared up to slap me in the face and I have sworn...SWORN, I tell you...to never wait until the last minute again. (yeah, yeah, yeah)

So, last week, I open a bottle of the stuff I use to make my paintings shiny - galkyd - and proceed to paint it on three of the finished paintings. The galkyd always dries overnight, but for some reason it didn’t this time. Five days go by...no dry, just a sticky, tacky mess...and I realize I have a problem. Apparently, I got a defective bottle of the galkyd. (I might become obsessed with the fact that I’ve used many, many bottles of this stuff and have never had a problem before and why, in the name of all that is decent, would the cosmos decide to make it happen now??? But, in the words of my ever-so-sensitive teenage daughters, “whatever.”)

It was during these five days that the studio maintenance people decided to seal and power wash the HUGE skylights above my studio...which really is a good thing because water leaks through the roof regularly. However, the power washing let loose a torrent of bugs, grit, dirt, and generally gross 100-year-old-warehouse-gunk to the studio below. And, yes, the paintings were under the skylight (unavoidable, since the skylights cover most of my studio). Did I mention the sticky, tacky condition (think flypaper) of the paintings? Luckily, I was able to scream and yell loud enough to get them to stop before much had fallen. Unluckily, they just came back the next day when I wasn't there and finished the job. (I might obsess on the fact that in all the years I have been in this studio, they have never messed with the skylights, etc...why, why, why....whine, whine, whine...you get the picture.)

Good news, though...I managed to recover the paintings with tweezers (for the gunk) and new galkyd, which ended up liquefying the first stuff and drying over it. Yowza, THAT was a close one. (I am so tempted at this point to tell you about the next round of stupid, bad luck...but then I would be dangerously close to making even myself say enough already...so, I’ll spare you.)

Lesson? (Since I seem to be so fond of the cosmic message that comes from situations like these...) Keep the Zen (which I surprisingly did) and have a Plan B (or in this case Plans C, D, E, F....)

Precipice

I haven't included any pictures of paintings in progress yet...and really, the fact that I have one to show NOW, a scant ten days before the opening, is freaking me out a little. (?!?)

This is Precipice (oil on canvas, 54” x 96”). My daughter attended her junior prom last spring and I got it into my head that a painting of her prom group, sans heads, would be very, very cool. (Um, yes, EVERY teenage girl who is trying valiantly to conform to society wants a mom like me. Ha. BUT, I have to say, this painting is better than her last portrait done at age 13, of her looking sullenly into a mirror, named Drama Queen. But, I digress....) After weeks of begging - "can I, please, can I, huh, can I, can I, can I???" - she finally relented and 200 photos later, I had the right shot. I absolutely love the stories behind the painting...the couple who broke up the day before prom, the couple who broke up the night of prom, the corsages and shoes and fancy dresses and too-big or too-coordinated suits. Not one of them realizes the precipice they teeter over, the magnitude and importance of the adulthood they are about to enter...their concerns are so here and now. But, maybe that's the lesson to be learned. Just like with Rose-Colored Glasses, my original intent (a discourse on the narcissism of youth?) seems too judgmental and narrow. Isn't being IN the moment preferable?

Fulcrum

The 26th is nearing and I am still painting furiously. Not good. And, as luck would have it, paint is suddenly taking extra long to dry, paintings are being difficult, and I am going into no-sleep, hyper-caffeinated overdrive. Want to visit the studio? (haha - I wouldn't if I were you...the paint is literally FLYING. I went to a dental appointment today and the hygienist asked me why my ear was blue. I managed, at 3 am this morning, to wipe off the smear of blue paint across my face, but guess I didn't notice it on my ear.)


So, you are looking at a detail of Fulcrum between the Mundane and the Mystical (48" x 60" - oil on linen); a painting that is thankfully done. The photo was submitted by someone very dear to me...someone who has taught me more in one year than anyone in my entire life. I was actually there when the photo was taken...at a Thai restaurant in Arlington. (Imagine a very big man taking multiple pictures of his eyeball...and to get the right effect, he had to pull the skin away from his eye, creating a bulging eyeball effect. All while eating Pad Thai. Talented.) You can see the reflections of the tree outside the restaurant as well as the many windows that surrounded us. Looking at this painting, for me, is like looking into the depths of his being, but at the same time, looking at a moment frozen in time. And, there is another element to the painting that isn't evident in the picture I have included...something that speaks to spirituality, transformation and, above all, balance.

Reflections upon my Imbalances

Reflections upon my Imbalances is oil on canvas, 72" x 84". I've been trying to figure out what to say about him...how to explain him. The best I can come up with is to include an email I wrote to the person who submitted the picture.

I can't write much...way too much to deal with right now. But, I wanted to get you a picture of the final Reflections. I hope you agree that the completed portrait is far less intimidating than the unfinished picture I sent you.

Actually, painting Reflections has been such a wonderful experience for me and I wanted to share it with you. I don’t think of myself as a compassionate person (something I am trying very hard to change about myself), but something about the pictures you sent to me brought out empathy and concern in me. This was one of the reasons I decided to paint it...I thought if it could inspire compassion in ME, think of the good and beautiful energy it could bring out of everyone viewing it. As I worked on the painting, I noticed the feeling of compassion growing within. I thought a lot about you. I looked into your "eye" constantly and repeated a loving kindness mantra (May you be filled with loving kindness, may you be well, may you be peaceful and at ease, may you be happy), hoping it might make some difference to you.

Then, at my open studio last week, I noticed the same sort of reaction in those who viewed the portrait. They were drawn to the portrait; to you. In their faces, I saw compassion, care, love...all good things. YOU have inspired this and I have no doubt that it will come back to you.

Be well, my friend.

Lizzy

Rose-Colored Glasses

When I started this painting (Rose-Colored Glasses, oil on canvas, 54" x 72"), it was intended to be a "processing" piece - a painting used to define and reflect on something personal...usually a difficult past situation that I didn’t handle very well. (And, oh my, there are many. Maybe that should be my next show; “Paintings Needed to Process the Stupid things I have done.”) Rose was meant to explore that surreal time after a marriage dissolves and dating begins. Having been away from the dating game for so long, I was curious (and honestly, distressed) about how a person could seem one way at the beginning of a relationship and seem entirely different at the end of the relationship. Our society uses the idiom "seeing through rose-colored glasses" to explain this phenomenon. Definition: "With an unduly cheerful, optimistic, or favorable view of things." So, I picked one of my personal pictures; from a vacation to Vancouver (um, where this particular relationship concluded), cut out the person who was in the picture and colored the sea red. I absolutely swear I wasn’t trying to be nasty or bitter...and honestly, was surprised at people when they suggested I was. I was just “processing.” (yeah, yeah...tomato, tomahto.)

So, as I worked on this painting, I waited for an epiphany about where I went wrong and how I might do better in the future; how I might be able to avoid the pitfall of those rose colored glasses.

The self-realization came...a little different than I expected, however. First, I finally realized the negative tone I was adopting with all of this “processing” (thick-headed, I know) and started looking for the positive. Which, in turn, made me start asking myself, “What’s so wrong with rose-colored glasses? Why shouldn’t I wear them ALL the time? Wouldn't the world be – or at least seem like - a better place if I did?” It might seem kind of Pollyanna of me, but I have made a conscious decision to wear rose-colored glasses 24/7 (metaphorically, of course....I would look silly otherwise).