The Painter's dance. . .

The palette gets scraped, the brushes gathered and readied for cleaning.  This is how every painting day ends and cannot really be declared over (session or day!) until the brushes are truly cleaned and happily drying for the next day's use. This ritual is done with gratitude. 

As a portrait develops and begins to get its soul, there's a dance that begins. . .not a dance in the usual sense.  In fact, we dance around the easel all the time. . .standing back, looking, walking forward to make just one single mark. . .leaning in, leaning out. . .constantly on the move to better view the canvas and what we are painting.

But once you have something that's full of form and starts speaking to you, it's irresistible to your gaze!  You glance at it out of the corner of your eye. . .you surprise it by peeking around the corner. . .you snap your head quickly and then back again.  If it's in the dark, you step in and quickly turn a light on to catch it lighting up!  It's the first thing you do in the morning. . .head to the studio to see (with a fresh eye) what you created yesterday!  I know an artist who places her paintings-in-progress across from her bed for easy study and viewing. . . I admire that tremendously, but will sheepishly admit that I have to have some time away. . .the constant thinking of it all will consume me in a burning blaze.  There is no doubt that the artistic life can be full of obsessive self-involvement; we are, after all, constantly judging ourselves in an unrelenting way. . .or at least the "extension of ourselves" at the end of a paint brush. 

I took the day off yesterday. . .after exercise and errands I headed to a movie, which is its own particular nirvana for the portrait artist.  The faces, so LARGE on the big screen. . .a golden opportunity to study emotions running across or through the eyes. . .the smile, the neck, the turn of the head, the play of light. Did I mention obsessive?  Sigh.  Anyway, it was delicious to sit in a darkened theater for a couple of hours and pay attention to something/someone else and to "story!"  I do love movies with story that leave me stumbling out into the light thinking, wondering, contemplating and maybe, hopefully a little changed. 

Tonight I'm sharing a painting that I admit to loving. Somehow it has always struck me as being out of character for its time. . .the mother's affection for her son is so openly and lovingly apparent!  Their easy casualness strikes a chord in my tender heart.  Their relaxed manner is the result of masterful painting!  It's Sargent's Mrs. Edward L. Davis and her son Livingston.   If I were a child gazing at this painting I would want to be Livingston.  Wouldn't you?

And on that note, with a painting to gaze upon and wonder about, I shall leave you. . . I am most certain that Sargent danced many times around the easel when portraying Mrs. Davis and her son Livingston. . .I like that thought. 

Thunder is rolling and soft rain is falling. . .perfect.