Crossing the Line

Not having a broad choice of television viewing options, I'm so glad the Summer Olympics are on. It brought out memories when as a child, I had abundant energy and felt I could do anything.

'Crossing the Line' wood wall assemblage, acrylic ©robinrkent

My favorite was Track and Field. Spoken by one who now thinks a fast walk is a sprint.
How many athletes had names that described what they do. Americans Trotter, Gait(lin), Miles. The amazing star in quickness and theater was Bolt from Jamaica. Another Muhammed Ali in the making. Such bravado. Wonder what if his name had been 'Pokey.'

I loved the rivalry between the long distance runners of Ethiopia and Kenya. Beautiful to watch their fluidity of form.

Maybe my newly acquired walking habit makes me a child in the universal athletic family, too. I'm not running, however I've learned to walk again.  But oh, to show such grace while doing it.

The Poignant Side of Funny

Liking poetry for the chance to chew on words slowly, a blog I silently follow called 'The Rain In My Purse'  http://theraininmypurse.blogspot.com/ gives me a full course dinner.

'Pecking Order' acrylic on canvas board   ©robinrkent
What's so funny?

I chuckled at the poem she mentioned called 'What Narcissism Means to Me' by Tony Hoagland, published by Graywolf Press. Never aware of that phrase before - if it is one - (I don't get around much), I had to read it.

Comedy and Tragedy being so connected, I wonder why they aren't thought of as a unit more often. Like twins separated at birth, or sweet complementing spicy, or Woody Allen, the hidden poignant factor helps - in a strange way - find that funny side of life.

I think laughing, or even a fleeting grin, is a way we unconsciously give thanks for being part of the act.

A Routine in Less is More

Routine is good for me. But it's hard to stay on task in the summer.

'Buddy' (garden sculpture) hanging out     ©robinrkent

Routine is not so good when used to describe how I paint. Autopilot in art is questionable, even as a result of years of practice.
When painting in a 'semi-serious' mode (usually identified by pinched brow and pursed lips and rarely discussed here), my future goal will be to edit more - making the abstract stronger. Volume, composition, and flatten spaces are important in everything I paint or assemble. I don't care much for line, perspective, or rigidity. (wood being the exception)
I painted 'Reading to the Dog' (above) a while ago when dabbling in a 'semi-serious' mode.
I now see things I'd like to change. Editing choices escaped me when gripping the brush.
It's a challenge to explore another style: different ways of seeing, different decisions. I'd like to visit this niche more. After summer. The art world is such a big place.

The summer of the chicken

This is the summer of the chicken. I mentioned working on this topic in early spring for our town's 'What's Hatching in Brandon?' event. Now I'm working on a chicken sculpture for the Framers Market gallery show opening next week. (I also made a farmer on a tractor to mix it up a bit.)  This summer is just flying by. PZGJTBEDD679

Chicken made from scratch  ©robinrkent

Chicken with makeup     ©robinrkent

Bastille Day and much more

This day is not only important to France and Francophiles, in my smaller world, it's my cousin's birthday also.

'Frenchy'         assemblage        ©robinrkent     

Many friends and relatives were born on similarly significant days. I wonder if others, like me, think such a high percentage unusual.

My birthday was just an ordinary day. But it still could become noteworthy.
Maybe in the future, it will mark the day we're able to view all the colors in the spectrum. Or fly under our own physical power. Or communicate telepathically.
Perhaps it will mark another occasion the whole world celebrates. (I already have a friend born January 1st).

Can you add an additional note to the day you were born? (Not that it isn't already special enough...)

Happy birthday, Jim.

Folk Art Diary: The Texture Behind The Paint

This is the third Folk Art Diary post on 'Robin's Elements of Art'

I like what texture does. It gives both a tactile and visual thrill. The tactile sense is a side benefit while creating the visual. Most classical painters enjoy the 'bouncy give' between brush and canvas. Feeling brush vibrations while scumbling (scrubbing for you folk art types) as I paint over rough cut planks is an additional sensation. Sometimes the process emits a sound if a really rough board (think jug band washboard effect). 

'Tumble Home'      Acrylic on Rough Wood          ©robin r kent

The visual effect on a layered surface is somewhat harder to  control. And a good thing it is. Especially when allowing an under-painted color to show through, blending and altering the top layer. Pretty amazing stuff, even for the painter. The  more you try this, of course, the more control over the outcome.
Pastel artists, when painting on sandpaper, use the tactile/texture theory in smaller scale (manicure multitasking?). Graffiti artists, I imagine, must love seeing a stucco building.

Folk Art Diary: A Focus

When viewing my own or any painting, my first response is always 'Where do I focus?' How is the composition organized? Did the artist's paint brush play traffic cop?
Not that all paintings have to have a focus. One thing I love about 'art' is it should be malleable enough to break all assumptions. Keeping it from being a science.

'Summer Shower' acrylic on barn boards ©robinrkent

Sometimes a painting's focus can be an only child: simple, quiet, and clean; or surrounded by a tribe of secondary and tertiary siblings: clamoring but supportive.
Most times I don't want to be confused on where to start. Searching where the strength lies. Where the initial wow factor emanates. Just show me. Life is tough enough.
Other times I need the search. Like a mystery novel, unwinding clues, finding the main thread, sitting back and seeing how it came together. The aha factor. I appreciate getting there.
The focus of this painting is obvious. It's simplistic and busy with lots of elements to look at. This is as detailed as I ever get. Maybe a little much, but some gardeners would approve: more is never enough.