"Autumn Leaves" Oil on Hardboard 5"x7"

     The end of summer, and the beginning of autumn always comes as a surprise for me. It seems like a mischievous prank; the shortening of the days, the way the sunlight changes and fades for seemingly no reason. Long summer days are the natural state of existence for me. I live in summer. I feel most like myself when the sun is high and the ground is warm and the lightening bugs appear and dance in the trees, and the Chuck-will's-widow calls from somewhere deep in the woods.  Must summer really come to an end so soon?  I think I wouldn't notice if it didn't happen at all, or until December, and only then if someone happened to mention it.

     Most people don't know that in Florida, the leaves don't fall off the trees until some time in March, when the new ones push them off. The trees just dump them, all at once, and put on their new leaves practically overnight. I realized when I moved to Kentucky, that fall and winter are real seasons. They show up, and show off, and stick around until you really get to know them, whether you want to or not.  Leaves falling here encompasses the very essence of the season. It's not a small thing. The color alone is worth living through it, at least once. If you have a yard, you really need to rake them up, so they don't kill the grass.  This is something that will keep you busy, and keep you from noticing how short the days are getting.

     I realize as I write this, that it's January, and snow is falling almost everywhere, and the days are getting longer. I did this painting back in October, because I couldn't resist trying to capture the mood, and embrace the change of season.  There are many kinds of oaks, but these are Pin Oak leaves. My husband loves Pin Oaks for their symmetry, and stateliness. This painting is for you, Jim. I love the oak trees you planted that line the drive - even before there was a drive, and for having a vision of what it could look like one day.

Flower painting #2 - Sunshine Yellow - 4"x4" oil on gessoboard

     This has been a year of so many new things, new people, loves, and losses. I loved this hibiscus plant we found at the nursery back in the summer. I took pictures of it before we decided to buy it. I had to paint it.  I've heard that anything yellow, with shadows, is difficult, because it isn't just 'dark yellow' - it's something different altogether. I found this to be true. It was fun experimenting, and mixing colors until I got is right.  I think I did, pretty much. I really like the way it turned out.
     Sad thing, though, about what happened to it.  Have you ever had a moment in time that you wish you could take back?...change something?...listen to that small voice inside your head?   I've had a few in my lifetime, some more impacting than others.  This one, not bad enough to cry over, but still....
     I took this little painting, along with a few others, onto my front porch one afternoon to photograph.  I was just about done, and had just set it down next to another small painting when my camera refused to work. It needed batteries. ..sigh...so I went in.  For a split second, I thought, 'don't leave it there...pick it up, and bring it inside...' and then just as quickly, thought 'No, I'll be right back...and besides, it's not going to rain 'til later, and there's no way the dog could pick it up off the porch...'  Well, being highly distractible person that I am, I forgot all about the paintings.
     Eight hours later, after the wind and rain had stopped, my youngest daughter came in from the front porch, and said 'hey, look what I found by the front door!'  It was my little sailboat painting.  It was dirty, and had a chip out of the side.  Then I remembered.  OH NO!  I left the yellow flower painting out there, too!

    Yeah...it wasn't there. I felt sick.  It was nowhere to be found.  We looked a long time.  I thought maybe the wind had blown it off the porch into the bushes, but no.  My husband found it later, in the yard.  Never underestimate a dog's ability to get ahold of something it wants - and chew it to pieces.  Oh, I wish I'd listened to myself to begin with!  This is what's left of my sunny hibiscus painting.

     I may try to repaint it one day.  I have a brand new year to work on that...starting tomorrow. Happy New Year to all my friends, and may you be blessed in 2011.

Copy vs. Original

Last year around this time, I was preparing to enter my first two paintings in the art show held annually (semi-annually, now) at the local studio, and hoping it would all go smoothly...I would finish the poppy, get it framed, get it to the studio on the right day, at the right time, etc. (Big deal for me.)  Done. When I handed over the paintings, I was asked: "Original, or copy?" Well, since I hadn't had the painting copied, and I didn't COPY anybody's painting, I said, "original".  Eyebrows were raised. "Really?", they asked.  "Oh, ummm... " Then the two sweet ladies clarified the difference for me... This is what I learned:  If you paint from a photograph, and YOU didn't actually TAKE the photograph yourself, it is called a COPY....a picture out of a calendar, or a magazine, for instance.  For your paintings to be considered ORIGINAL, when you use a photograph as your reference, YOU must be the one to TAKE the photograph. Simple. But a bit disappointing. I actually did change a couple of things from the photographs...I left out leaf... and a tiny little flower that was in the way...I guess that doesn't count. Perhaps if you tried to sell a 'copy', you would be infringing on the photographer's copyright to that image, unless you had specific permission to paint it, as you would for a commissioned portrait, for instance. (If I'm wrong about this, somebody help me clear it up...) So that's when I decided from that point on, I would paint originals - take my own pictures and use them, crop them, etc. Except this one last little (2.5x2.5) one, which I copied from a print of a painting that hangs in my living room, which technically makes this a copy of a copy...