Moving Toward the Light

I remember walking along the Arno river and I saw this old man painting these little brilliantly, colorful impressionistic scenes of the local scenery full of energy and light. I was in awe… I was completely captivated. He painted many of them in one day and they were lined up along the bridge and around his feet. I imagined him to be some type of artist sage with his long white beard and paint-stained hands with little messages of light. He rarely, if ever, looked up as if he were unconcerned with the world around him. It seemed like the only thing that mattered was what he was painting at that moment. What impressed me the most was how it appeared that painting was a part of his nature, it seemed as effortless as eating. I don’t know how many times I walked past him trying to get more tidbits of “light” without being obvious that I was observing him intensely. To this very day, I think of that artist often as without ever knowing his name, he has inspired me to this day. These new pieces I’m working on fill me in some strange way. Just a few months before Katrina hit, I’d began working on a series of paintings that were simply waterscapes with sunrises. They were big and beautiful and at that time, I was still hooked on using oil paint. Unfortunately, they were all lost in the storm. But slowly, over the years I still painted my waterscapes here and there.

Here is a picture of one I did in 2006. Before, I think it was more like an excercise or practice, as I was fully engaged with my mind. But now, I imagine that as I “flow” into the colors, which I only choose with my next breath, that this is how the artist man on the bridge must have felt - unconcerned with the world, but completely connected to the present moment and the present color and how it blends into the canvas of colors I’ve created thus far. Its like a symphony, as I build up to that peak moment where the light peaks through in one area of the canvas. At moments I struggle, but I feel a real sense of calm wash through me as I look at the canvas and think to myself, “what would the creator do?” And every time, the same still, sweet, very soft message passes through me to keep moving toward the light.

A New Wind

Every morning I look forward to the adventures of the day. Lately, everything has been happening so fast. I remember just last summer not really knowing what the future of M. Francis Gallery would look like and now here we are, a new spring on the horizon and I'm in the full swing of things. No more fearing the next curve or turn, instead, I've decided to embrace and face all of the many challenges head on. So today I sit enjoying the present moment as I type this blog under the hair dryer - (TMI I know,) watching my husband's shadow through the curtains as he does lunges on the back porch, smelling the scent in the air and sharing my thoughts and feelings with the world. I look forward to the day's adventures, whatever they might be. And the snafus, as they are sure to pop up too. Spring Time in New Orleans is always exciting - a plethora of festivals are right around the corner and for us, already - Tomorrow is Jammin' on Juilia (an annual New Orleans Arts District Event) where we close the entire street down and basically have an art party. Tomorrow will be a little different though. In the past, the event has been from 6-9 p.m., but tomorrow it will be an all day event. I'm sure like most, I'm optimistic and hopeful for a good day. We're showing new work by Ellene. She's been so nervous about the response to her work, but I believe in her, in her work. Her pieces are strong, harmonious and beautiful. (*Gasp* did she just call art beautiful? I did I did.) I love beautiful art and Ellene's work is amazingly fresh, inspiring and beautiful! All in all - I'm sure the day will bring a fresh new wave of life. We've painted, cleaned and reorganized a few things and surprisingly I feel really refreshed as well - it's like a new wind has truly come through.