Pastel on Sennelier LaCarte, approx. 1.5" x 3.5".
The bottom color isn't black, it's actually a very dark brown.
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Rumi and Gadjo seem to be...er...Siamese twins.
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Vendor's stall roof, Hyderabad, India.
More art on my website: jalapfaff.com
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Untitled 73
Rumi and Gadjo seem to be...er...Siamese twins.
Vendor's stall roof, Hyderabad, India.
More art on my website: jalapfaff.com
Friday, February 25, 2011
Untitled 72
Pastel on Sennelier LaCarte, approx. 2.5" x 6.5".
How is it with the new photo sizes? Are they good? Or too big? Anyone having trouble viewing them?
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Miss Lemon: she came, she saw, she conquered.
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In India.
More art on my website: jalapfaff.com
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Untitled 71
Pastel on Sennelier LaCarte, approx. 3" x 3.5".
Battling the migraines again. Two nights ago was the worst one ever, and that's saying a lot. :(
Loriann asked me to talk a bit about my process with this Strata series.
I first cut a square or rectangle of LaCarte, which is still my favorite pastel paper (though PastelMat was great for the cloud paintings). I then grab whichever color calls to me. Some days it's a neutral, some days it's something highly saturated. I put down that color as one of the two main blocks. Then I grab a second color, whatever seems to be calling me. It may be similar to the first, or very different. When it's quite different, I often think it will end up being more of a challenge to make the painting work, but that's not necessarily the case at all.
Really, I just go on like this. Once I have the two main color blocks, I again grab whatever feels the most appealing at the moment, or whatever it feels like the painting needs. I try not to think about it. When I analyze or take time to ponder, it kind of kills the color magic for me. I'll make a thinnish or thickish line, and then again my hand hovers over the pastel boxes until something calls out, or I'll look at the painting for a while and realize it's asking for a certain color...
This process goes on until the painting feels complete to me. Sometimes I'll love it, declare it done, but then can't resist trying to add just one more tiny little line--and ruin it completely. Other times, I'll think it's done but then some random crazy impulse seizes me and I grab a color that actually feels all wrong--it's surprising to me that this ruins the painting only about half the time; an additional quarter of the time it has a so-so effect, and a quarter of the time it just makes the painting in a way I never would've expected.
While I'm working like this, putting down a line and then responding to it by deciding whether to add a new line and if so, what color and how thick or thin, I start noticing that the painting has a definite feel to it--serene, say, or vibrant. If it's too serene, I might add something vibrant, or vice versa. Or just let it have its head and see where it might go. If I kill the freshness by going over lines too often (many of the lines you see are the original line, though sometimes I go over parts of lines), the painting dies immediately.
I probably have success in perhaps one in seven of these Strata paintings. Since they're small, I don't feel too bad about tossing them if they don't work. I don't rework pastels, unless it's a very occasional tiny piece of a line. I seem to have some sort of belief that if it doesn't work, it wasn't meant to work, and there's no point belaboring it; better to start afresh. In the same vein, I never try to copy myself. Yesterday I made one I absolutely loved. Of course I tried to add just one more tiny line...and the painting instantly expired. Sigh. But I don't try to go back and fix it, nor start a new pastel using the same colors. If I start a new pastel, it will genuinely be new, with no lingering thoughts (hopefully!) about the painting that just died. I try to be zen in that way.
Some of these look geological to me (hence the series name Strata), some look like landscapes or waterscapes, some just feel like pure color exploration to me. Some end up with just a few lines, or really a lot of lines, some with broken lines, others with intact ones. Some end up feeling calming, others provoke excitement. I feel that each piece I begin knows what it wants to be, and it's my job to midwife it and try to not to squelch its identity as it grows. I'm having fun.
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Mojito (aka the Moji Monster).
It's so boooooring to wait while your little brother has his bath.
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More art on my website: jalapfaff.com
Monday, February 21, 2011
Untitled 70
Pastel on Sennelier LaCarte, approx. 2.5" x 4".
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Choo-choooo! All aboard the couch train!
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At the weavers' center, Hyderabad, India.
More art on my website: jalapfaff.com
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Untitled 69
Pastel on Sennelier LaCarte, approx. 1 2/3" x 5".
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Gadjo with Jazz (above).
Gadjo is still doing about the same, possibly a bit worse since we have begun reducing the pain meds. He still has days to go, though, before we know more.
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In India.
More art on my website: jalapfaff.com
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Untitled 68
Pastel on Sennelier LaCarte, approx. 3" x 3.5".
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Rumi teaches Gadjo how to hunt gnats...and how to most effectively distribute soil over the house.
These are just iPhone3 photos, so not very crisp, but it was too cute to let the moment pass.
More art on my website: jalapfaff.com
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Untitled 67
Pastel on Sennelier LaCarte, approx. 2.5" x 6".
Taken down by a migraine tonight, so not painting; this is from a few days ago. But I can still blog--as long as I keep the screen light really low and don't spend too long on the computer.
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Finally caught Gadjo in the act while I had the camera. He sometimes does this: dives headfirst into the bag of dry dog food, grabs one, leaps out, consumes it noisily, then dives back in for more. His whole body goes in--this photo is when he was on his way back out (his tail coming perilously close to the dish of wet cat food...which he is ignoring here in favor of canine kibble).
He's doing pretty well lately. Still has some symptoms; the vet is still treating for simple injury. He's still on pain meds, which we will be gradually reducing. I guess that's when the feces could potentially strike the ventilator blades: if he's completely off the pain meds but still has the symptoms, then it's probably FHS. My sense is still that it is FHS, but since he's doing fairly well, I'm still optimistic.
Sometimes from the kitchen emanate sudden clunkings and clankings on the wood floor. These turn out to be glass jars displaced by someone seeking the warm pipes in that cupboard.
This is from the era before Gadjo, otherwise I'm sure they'd be in there together.
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In India. Somehow, I never got used to the words "ladies" and "urinal" together.
More art on my website: jalapfaff.com
Monday, February 14, 2011
Untitled 66
Pastel on Sennelier LaCarte, approx. 2.5" x 4".
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I don't know how these two ever managed to live without each other.
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In India.
More art on my website: jalapfaff.comSaturday, February 12, 2011
Untitled 65
Pastel on Sennelier LaCarte, approx. 3" x 5".
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Rumi and Gadjo: world's best buddies.
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In India.
More art on my website: jalapfaff.com
Friday, February 11, 2011
Untitled 64
Pastel on Sennelier LaCarte, approx. 2.5" x 5".
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Sweet old Jazzy waits for dinner. He is now 14 years old, as of this month. He's somewhat deaf, somewhat blind, hypothryroid, rather fragile, has a bit of dementia, and is quite arthritic. And the sweetest boy in the world.
He is a rescue (i.e., adopted, not purchased) and he used to be an official therapy dog at the hospital. I trained him (well, the only skills he really had to actually learn were "leave it" [when food was near him] and "wait [for me, while I leave for a while]." Everything else comes naturally to him--wanting to meet people, wanting to be pet or hugged by strangers, leaning up against people, sitting on their feet. He passed the tests very well, except he lunged at the pizza that was held in front of him by the examiner, thus failing the "leave it" command (but she approved him anyway, because he charmed her). He was best in the waiting areas, where stressed-out, worried people were sitting around waiting for news of their loved ones who were in surgery. He would go to them and sit on their feet; I think it helped them feel grounded.
The reason we stopped going was because of me. When people met a lovely Golden, what kept happening was they started telling me about the Goldens they used to have...who then died of cancer, or were hit by a car, etc. etc. It just got to be too hard on me to be constantly hearing what I called the Dead Dog Stories.
Even though we stopped going officially, Jazz will always be a great unofficial therapy dog. He's always there for you if you cry, reaching out for you with his big paw when he sees human tears. We got caught on a hiking trail by a storm once and he leaned against me, protecting me from the rain and hail (not that wet dog is the best fragrance to be near, but I didn't complain).
The Husband adopted Jazz when Jazz was 1 year old, and I met Jazz when Jazz was 5. We even love the fact that Jazz has a strong stubborn streak. After all, without that he'd be perfect, and no one's perfect. (The main way he's stubborn is that if he doesn't feel like going in the direction you're going while walking, he'll plant his 75 pounds [used to be 85] so firmly that it's impossible to move him. You just have to wait for him to change his mind.)
A few years ago, we took him to have his abdomen ultrasounded because the vet felt something possibly suspicious. Jazzy thought being turned over onto his back and having his tummy rubbed by five strangers was the best thing that ever happened to him. I remember the technician waving the wand around on his abdomen and us asking her, "What do you see?" "Astounding quantities of fat," was the answer. (He started his diet later that day.) And strangely, they also incidentally found that he only has one kidney. Apparently he was born with just one.
When The Husband and I got married, Jazz wore a man's blue silk tie and looked very dapper. He was Best Dog.
The look of contentment, fang protruding, and little smile on Rumi's face when he sleeps just kill me.
After a couple of better days, Gadjo had a bad evening yesterday. Sigh. Guess it's still just wait-and-see.
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At the weaving center, Hyderabad, India.
More art on my website: jalapfaff.com
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Untitled 63
 Pastel on Sennelier LaCarte, approx. 2.5" x 4". ----- Gadjo seems to be doing better, day by day. We are starting to be hopeful that in fact it's just an injury and not FHS. Or that if it is FHS, it won't be too severe. Time will tell.  Unrelatedly, Rumi has once again pulled some of the letters off my keyboard. Sigh. It's back to the Apple store for me. -----  At the weaving center, Hyderabad, India. ----- |
More art on my website: jalapfaff.com
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