art in paint, in sand, in words, and in music

Melancholy were the sounds on a winter's night.

- Virginia Woolf

i've been away from the sketchbooks for a few days,

thanks to a migraine. I get them now and then.

Whenever i get them,

the world stands still for a few days -

but i'm happily back to the drawing table again. :-)

I just finished this a few minutes ago -

this is acrylic on paper...

there may have been a left brain/right brain thing

happening here...

I only noticed after i got the basic blue paint on there

that it was rather symmetrical.

and then of course, you just KNOW i'm gonna find a face. ;-)

These shapes just looked like eyes to me,

and a nose, and mouth.

a few added white dots, and it's done.

The hardest thing for me (as an artist)

is knowing when to stop.

Then, time for a little collage/painting

 a few leaf shapes...

added circles and acrylic paint...

 a few details...

Painting abstracts always helps me let go

of the need to know the meaning of the painting.

It's very freeing to paint something

that doesn't NEED to look like anything.

At least for me it is.

And while i was recuperating on the couch,

i read this book again.

I absolutely love the soft illustrations in this book

and the story is such a fragile one...

about a young boy (Hervé) who loses his father...

Such a gentle way to share an overwhelming loss...

I leave you with this 8 minute video on sand art.

Some of you may have seen it already,

but i'm sharing it anyway,

because i not only find the art beautiful,

but i love music as well

and it's a wonderful reminder

that art extends much further

than the pencil or the paint brush.

Art is about communicating.

Across the oceans,

across different cultures,

across generations.

I don't know what that song is at 5:05,

nor what he is saying,

but it's one of the saddest songs

i've ever heard...

xox

migraine, music & dad...

I spent much of the day yesterday nursing a migraine...

 

by 8pm last night, i was feeling a little better & thought i would venture into my blue room...

At this point, i knew this one was not meant to be a happy face... :-)

So i just let it go where it wanted to go.

...and in the end, it's not so bad. 

It kinda gives a face to the word MIGRAINE, doesn't it?
I just hope i don't look like this when i get them. :-) 

On another note, I want to share a little story about my father. 

My father was a carpenter. A good one. A respected one. 

He's been officially retired for several years,
although he's kept himself busy with odd jobs here & there. 

Then a year ago, he had a severe heart attack, and needed open heart surgery.

He could no longer do the things he used to do.
He needed to scale down, big time.
It took a while to adjust, but eventually he did, and within months of being back home 

he made this...

A birdhouse / bird feeder.

Dad doesn't do anything half assed.

These little birdhouses reminded me that even when life changes drastically,
and so many things are taken away from you,
the need for creative expression remains.
The need to have purpose. The need to feel useful.

And for a carpenter like my father,
the profound need to do something with his hands. To make something.

I think i understand
where i get my art heart. :-)

Where do you get your art heart?