February 16, 2016 In appreciation, life and the universe, poetry By Patricia Saxton

To Know Leona

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I loved her first because she loved my little girl. She loved her like her own. She sometimes spoke to her in French, and she called her Littlefoot, like the character in “The Land Before Time”. They were a good team, Nanna and Littlefoot.

I loved her next because her heart was real and true; her spirit as big as the sky.

We drank tea with herbs from the garden. We laughed from our bellies. We lit candles and watched the moon. We spoke of dreams. I helped heal her ankle. She helped heal my heart. I loved her language. She loved my paintings and my rice casserole. And she loved my little girl, who loved her back.

She was the mother of mothers to all in her care. Loving. Fearless. Brave. Blessings flowed from her lips like divine poetry. (Receiving a birthday wish from Leona was pretty much a religious experience.) She loved to dance. She carried too much on her shoulders. This world will miss her dearly.

She was magic. And fire.
Caribbean eyes.
Voodoo in her blood.
Gold in her heart.

She walked with angels –
Now she flies among them.

Thank you Leona, for your beautiful love and care. It was an honor to walk some of this earth with you.

 

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February 14, 2016 In art, creativity, fine art, painting By Patricia Saxton

Sorry Cupid, I Have Plans with My Cat

Valentines’s Day isn’t for everyone, and Cupid doesn’t always hit his mark.

For some, yes, there’s devotion to the whispering of sweet nothings, and the worship of chocolate and roses. But for some it can feel more like a bitter pill than a joyful tonic.

Others may simply prefer to spend the day with their cats. (Yeah, I get that.)

Regardless of how one feels about it, Valentine’s Day has a long history celebrating perhaps the most important, and often misunderstood, human condition: love.  And love will not be ignored. Poets write about it, songs are sung, paintings are painted. Endlessly. From the beginning of time to its last breath.

Whether it’s romantic love, or family love or friendship love or self love, love is what matters most. I don’t mean the love-you-think-is-love that hurts. Or the heartbreaks or the losses. I mean the fact that love heals, love lifts, love binds, love seeds and nourishes and shines a light; love enhances, love honors. It’s the root of all good that ever was or will be.

So spend the day however you like; just try to do everything, big or small, with a spirit of love. Your heart will be glad.

And while you’re at it, here are some classic paintings you and your cat can enjoy. Happy Valentine’s Day. <3

1. Dance in the Country PierreAuguste Renoir (French, 1841–1919) 1883 oil on canvas *Paris, Musée d’Orsay. *Photograph © Réunion des Musées Nationaux / Art Resource, NY. *Courtesy, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

Dance in the Country / Pierre Auguste Renoir, 1883

 

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The Kiss / Gustav Klimt, 1909

 

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Cupid and Psyche as Children / William Adolphe Bouguereau, 1889

 

The Fisherman and the Syren / Frederic Leighton, 1858

 

El_Beso_(Pinacoteca_de_Brera,_Milán,_1859)

The Kiss / Francesco Hayez, 1859

 

Noon - Rest from Work (after Millet) / Vincent van Gogh / 1890

Noon – Rest from Work (after Millet) / Vincent van Gogh, 1890

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February 6, 2016 In art, painting By Patricia Saxton

Patience and Process: Part II

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The beauty of oil paints is not only the way they flow and breathe; the way they can bend and curve to your brush ‘s command like spreading soft butter or icing a cake; it’s also their longevity. A tube of good oils can last years and years and years, and I love that you can “wake up” a painting after a month or a year, the paint still pliable.

The un-beauty of their longevity is that the caps may become stubborn as a mule, or a little dog who doesn’t want to go for a walk. They won’t budge. And if you did a really lame job of replacing the cap, the paint inside will harden, which definitely isn’t conducive to a good experience.

Of course, if you’re a tidy painter who takes precise care of their tools, such as deliberately cleaning off any paint residue from the top of the tube before putting the cap neatly back on, this may not happen to you. But I’m not a tidy painter. This is kind of in opposition to my general character (a topic that could easily lead me to talk of astrological signs, but I’ll spare you…); nevertheless, it’s true.

And so, when I sit down to twist open the first glorious tube of Titanium White, the cap doesn’t cooperate. I then have to resort to using pliers and muscle, or if they fail, I’ll use fire. (First time I used fire I was pretty nervous. But it does work, briefly heating with a match just around the bottom edge of the cap. Still, don’t take my word for it, please. There are all kinds of remedies, so read up first if you find yourself with a stuck cap. And by the way, I’ve heard that running a little vaseline around the rim before replacing the cap does wonders.)

If it’s irretrievably old and crusty, the last resort would be to buy a new tube. Because of my Scottish blood and a father who taught us, perhaps too well, about re-using and making things last for eons, I’m loathe to buy unless necessary.

Luckily, today, pliers did the job. And once I’d gone out for new turpentine – which I unexpectedly did need (ugh) – I was now, finally, ready to dip the brush and slather some paint on a couple of ever-patient canvasses.

It was so much easier when everything was all “set and ready.” All the stop and go and stop and twist takes away some of the vibe. The good news is, I’m on course again.

So. Patience. Process. Progress.

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