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Archive for the ‘Creative Living in a Condo’ Category

There is no way I will spend much time indoors when summer is fleeting. Rain or shine I can be outdoors either on our roofed-and-sheltered-on-three-sides patio, or out in the gardens. Every possible ounce of soul food (plus actual vitamin D) is in the process of being stashed

Like our resident chipmunks scurrying hither and thither with their cheek pouches loaded, I am hoarding a storehouse of images with camera and paints. But rather than scurry hither and thither, I move as slowly and deliberately as possible—unwilling to miss any of the fragrance, sights, or sounds of summer’s demise.

This laidback mentality is something I desire to maintain year around, and often succeed—especially at my vintage age when life is carefree and just plain fun! But during summer’s demise, lazing around is no trick. It just comes naturally!

Even my paint brushes are relaxed. They scarcely move—letting the paint do most of the work with a bit of help from me tipping and bending the paper. With lots of juicy watercolor and gouache, the artist is simply a behind-the-curtains director—welcoming the ad-libbing and improvising that occurs on stage.

Such are the lazy days of summer’s demise. ENJOY!

Margaret L. Been — 9/4/19

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Last week I created the above atmospheric scene and was quite happy with it. So, in the above position I initialed the painting and then realized I had signed it upside down after matting. Not to be discouraged by anything, I covered the initials with my trusty friend, gouache. Then I accidentally dropped a bloop of gouache on the mat.

Next, I decided to simply paint the mat—rather than waste it by removing it, or adding another mat on the top. Also, I added a bit of mystery by gouaching over some of the color with white.

Above is the finale. This may not be a huge hit, but I had a lot of fun messing it up and making a funky rendering. Later in the week I received the following photo from my Granddaughter, Nicole, in Florida, of her daughter—my Great Granddaughter Josephine, using the same technique on a family photo. I decided that great minds think alike. And funky is cool! 🙂

Margaret L. Been — July 23. 2019

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I am a fan of real correspondence, sometimes forgetting to check email for a week or two. To invoke an old saying: “Therein lies a tale.”

Since the beginning of my artmaking passion, I have been creating stationery by scanning or photographing paintings, emailing them to myself, and putting the pictures in my art file, to print out on heavy, high quality photo paper, and paste onto heavy blank stationery—preferably Strathmore’s watercolor blank cards with envelopes, available at most online art stores. (I love DICK BLICK!)

But that era is closing. The USPS is like the “old grey mare” who is not (I hate the word “ain’t” as used in the ditty) “what she used to be”; fat letters sometimes arrive at their destination all shredded and three weeks late, and some letters (fat or thin) never arrive. Our son, Eric, and I have mailed out gift cards which were stolen in the mail process—gone forever, never reaching their recipients.

Since I am still stuck in the Jane Austen era, I continue to write long letters and have discovered that gluing a picture—printed on heavy quality photo paper—onto a heavy quality note card, and mailed in a heavy quality envelope, is subject to: 1) two ounce mailing, meaning extra cost—although the recipients are worth it, or 2) possible shredding in the Post Office machines, or 3) being deliberately torn open and consequently trashed by some thief who thinks there might be a gift card within.

So “it is what it is”. In order to adjust to what may seem like old age paranoia but is indeed current age realism, I am cutting down the bulk of my letters, and making individual note cards by decorating the paper with Sharpies Ultrafine Markers, and skipping the extra weight of a glued-on heavy photo paper print.

My new stationery involves less heft and a lot more fun, as you can see above. I paint designs on the front and back of the blanks; long letters require an insert of an extra piece of lightweight computer paper. I use the logo, “Boho Designs”—since I have always been a bit BOHO, as anyone who has seen our home, or the contents of my clothes closet, will readily affirm.

I create these gems at night. We go to bed early, not to sleep but to read, listen to music, and in my case decorate the blank stationery. I do one or two in an evening, and my production is fast surpassing the output of Jane Austen style letters.

What a life! Artmaking at the end of a full day, while entertained by Van Cliburn or Joshua Bell, with my man at my side, and another “man” sleeping at my feet.*

Louie is one of the most precious gifts we have ever received. Recently our oldest daughter, Laura, moved back to Wisconsin after forty years in Bellingham, Washington. Now she lives about seven minutes from our home. Laura settled into her new-to-her condo, with Louie who has been her pal for eleven years.

After bringing Louie to our home for several visits (one an “overnight), Laura surprised us by announcing that she was giving Louie to us. From his first visit, Louie had claimed our four rooms as his very own—plus our cabinets and closets which he deftly opens and investigates. He also claimed our bed, our laps, our hearts, and (excuse the pun) a “lion’s share” of my attention. Louie is the sweetest little lion I have ever known.

Laura had mulled this gift over for months before moving here—knowing Joe and I had a huge four-legged void in our home, ever since our corgi, Dylan, reached his maximum life span and died. I am still stunned by our daughter’s kindness and generosity—a picture of sacrificial love!

Now I know I have lost all but the die-hard readers who love their dogs and cats. So here is a return to the main subject: note cards created at the end of the day!

Happy Letter Writing!

Margaret L, Been — May 6th, 2019

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It’s that time again—when it’s all about flowers and most anything green. Spinach salads, trips to the local garden center to find more INDOOR PLANTS, dreaming of the outdoor gardens while the temperature beyond our doors and windows hovers below freezing, and frequently below zero.

The end of our lane contains a pristine white mountain, where the plow has heaped snowfall after snowfall so that we in our condo community can get out of our garages. This is Wisconsin, USA, and that snow mountain may be with us for several more weeks. But all I can think is FLOWERS.

The above allusion to flowers has seen many mutations since its beginning in late January. Several times it almost got pitched in the recycle bin, but with each frustrating session I came back with renewed vigor and determination. I simply had to have something to show for the New Year!

This painting is 16″ x 20″, and is now framed in a lovely antique wood frame, on the wall beside my piano. I like the rendering, but up until a couple of days ago I definitely did not! Here is why: It started out with a photo realism approach—something that normally doesn’t work for me! The flowers were a dark magenta, with blobs of yellow here and there and something that was supposed to represent sky—in overly predictable blue.

The magenta was overpowering. My well educated husband walked by my art table and preempted my thoughts by commenting, “It needs some white.”

So I attacked the magenta flowers with white gouache (always my friend in coverups.) But somehow the white took over. More yellow. More magenta. Then some alizarin crimson to deflect the winey magenta.

Then more yellow to light it up even more, more blue to anchor the piece to the table—but this time aqua blue, always a winner. This all sounds fast and frenzied, but it took weeks punctuated with days for drying (I tend to gob the paint on thickly), excursions to our local medical clinic where our body parts are kept in running order, and time out to eat and be sociable. And sometimes I slept.

Finally the paper was so clotted with layers of watercolor and gouache IMPASTO style, that I had a fleeting sense of nausea. “You are going to have a bath,” I almost shouted at the paper which was actually curling up on its edges from the barrage of paint.

A bath indeed. Not a shower, but a soaking in our kitchen sink. I brought the dripping mess back to my table and plunked it down thinking I would attack it once again, as it began to dry. But then the magic appeared.

The gross top layers of paint were gone. Somehow much of the yellow had turned to a soft green when blending into the aqua. The magenta/crimson combo had turned a light lavender when confronted with shades of blue. While the paper was still damp, I covered it with plastic food wrap and squished the wrap with my fingers to create creases.

When I removed the plastic the next day, I felt like apologizing to what I found—a lovely bit of art for which I could hardly take credit. As is so often the case, the paint knows best! 🙂

Margaret L. Been — March 2nd, 2019

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An inventory of what I have done in my studio over the last year has proved a bit surprising—or maybe not!  For 8 months out of the 12, I have been gimped with ortho issues. A shoulder replacement in late 2017 had only just begun to heal when a hip kicked in saying, “Hey, it’s not fair. I want some of this attention.”

Two major hip surgeries later (the 1st, a total hip replacement and the 2nd, to repair a severely fractured femur with screws, metal hooks, and wires that make me think of civil engineered bridge construction) I am still hobbling and spending much of the time off my feet.

For several weeks it was 1 leg only, to navigate this “kid in an old body” to and from a cozy living room couch (my 24/7 hangout) to a bathroom (about 5 yards away), my piano right behind my couch, and an extra art studio which my wonderful husband set up for me at the nearby end of our dining room table.

Books, limited piano practice which—although done sitting down—wore me out, my French tutorial apps and a Public Television app on my I-pad (I re-watched the entire DOWNTON ABBEY), serial-shopping on Amazon (FUN/FUN/FUN!), Van Cliburn and other geniuses streaming through my devices into our fine speakers day and night (1 of which speakers was conveniently located beside my ear on my 24/7 couch), my knitting (how many cowls does anyone need?), and ART made up my life for much of 2018.

Who needs to cook, scrub floors, vacuum, and dust anyway?

I normally avoid medical discussions except with those professionals to whom Medicare is paying me to complain, but the above diatribe is to demonstrate how life can be a lot of fun under rather strange circumstances! And how art can thrive, when pain and disability prevail. One’s pain can literally be “drowned” in paint, especially the wet into wet method of working which I prefer.

Anyway, my inventory yielded a surprising 35 paintings that I actually like. (There are always the “duds” which get stashed on a shelf for possible reworking or salvaging parts; or sometimes they are so outrageous that I trash them.)

The keepers range from (3) 20″ x 24″ biggies, a 16″ x 20″, a handful of 11″ x 14″ renderings, and a preponderance of 12″ x 16″ paintings—obviously my favorite size. The paintings are predominately woodland scenes and funky individual trees—with a smattering of flowers, a sailboat in trouble, some landscapes with distant castles, a still life (my least favorite), and a huge, totally abstract on Yupo Paper which I LOVE most of all.

Although my inventory preferences are not exactly written in the proverbial stone, they are indicative—and it was fun reviewing a year of art making, body disability notwithstanding.

The year’s earnings amounted to $700.00 which constituted a donation to, and sale at, our local art group’s annual fundraiser. My dislike of office type stuff is such that I can find no record of which paintings I donated. I believe they were “masterpieces” from former years.

Also, I give paintings to interested friends and family members. As with club donations, my right hand (very happily) does not know what my left hand is doing.

I share many of my favorites via prints glued to notecards, thus bragging about my art while facilitating my passion for writing actual letters as opposed to emails.

Above are the end of 2018 renderings, hardly even dry when I photographed them with my I-phone camera. They tend to make me think of Spring, and they are my HAPPY NEW YEAR to you!

Margaret L. Been, December 31st, 2018

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Throughout weeks of laying low after surgery to mend a broken femur, I have nestled close to 1 of 2 speakers which stream the finest music of the Western World from my I-Phone to my ear.

Among my favorites are Brahms’ incredibly stirring Hungarian Dances.  I have all 21 of them on my phone and pad, performed by the Berliner Symphoniker—and they make me want to fling myself around the room in wild abandon*, gimpy leg notwithstanding.

But in lieu of flinging, I have been painting—between earfuls of Brahms’ haunting Gypsy style refrains.  And the resulting art?  Well it has been wisely said that music is never neutral.  It pervades our psyche and helps to make us whom we are!

In my case, a Boho soul.  I have named the above renderings my “Boho Trees” series.  If you think the trees are strange, just blame Brahms.  Or better yet, stream his Hungarian Dances and get with the flow!

Margaret L Been — December 11th, 2018

*Flinging myself about a room in wild abandon is what I did regularly, as a young child.  My mother was a classical pianist.  She played the Hungarian Dances, and many other selections which motivated me to bounce from couch to chair, whirl in circles till I was dizzy, and then fall on the floor.  So maybe you can view the art and blame Mom!  MB

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More tree Textures 4

We have not had a riotously colorful Autumn in SE Wisconsin.  No one seems to know exactly why some are and some are not.  Absence of chlorophyll, duh.  But what else plays in?  Moisture?  Lack of it?  Frost?  No frost?

We can dither all we want, and may never know for sure.  Up North where we lived full time for eight years, we were ablaze with color every year—in the land of the sugar maples.  Only problem:  by the end of September it was all over.  Crunch crunch.  But so gorgeous while it lasted!

Meanwhile, I tried to replicate what Autumn sometimes is, and can be.  As you can see, I started well on the lower one-half of the left side as you face the above rendering.  But then something obstinate, rebellious, and ornery kicked in.  I couldn’t continue with Autumn colors, and had to insert Spring.

I guess you can tell where my heart is.  But I don’t want to escape, as so many do, to the land of alligators, water moccasins, and crazy election problems.  Never, no never.

Much better for me to live day by day in our capricious climate, appreciate the Winter beauty, and experience that March through May euphoria every year—followed by an often torrid Summer, and then our perfidious Autumn of unpredictable color.

Meanwhile, I can paint what I want.  No alligators, no water moccasins, no crazy voting machines—just a capricious Autumn of a different color.  It’s called DENIAL!  🙂

Margaret L. Been  —  November 18, 2018

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