Ok, I still can't get into the Romance of Autumn everyone else in Blogland is waxing poetic about. I am not disparaging that approach one bit. I wish I could put that cap upon my pointy head. It just doesn't fit.
I sat at the window this morning, quietly sipping my Autumn spice coffee while burning a Yankee Candle Candy corn candle. I am working it, folks. I am working it. Handmade quilt tucked around my feet. I had just changed out all the table dressings last night from flower fairy houses to gilded pumpkins.
Piffle.
It's cold and damp. My DH has pumped up the heat so high my sinuses are blasted far worse than any desert wind ever dared. I either dehydrate or shiver and nothing in between.
Oh, I am whining a good one, am I not.
The painting, then. At one point , I had decided I would never, ever paint flowers because every watercolorist under the sun did flowers thereby creating the very definition of trite.
The problem is, Watercolor is perfect for flowers...and I LOVE flowers. So I batted it around my pointy little head and came up with these taped down beauties. No vase. Flowers in bondage. A bit dark, so I used soft colors. I like it. I want to do more along this line, maybe throw in some gold leaf and collage. Maybe let it get darker still and be what it is. though I am still kind of stuck on these orangey, pinkie reds. Can you see Mums taped down to some crumpled tissue, maybe a bent a twisted tag sadly blowing in the breeze ?Some misty painted daisies, alittle bent, a little bedraggled pasted to some corrugated cardboard.
I just realized where this is coming from. When I was in High School, I was always out of school with some weird thing..anemia for the most part. It still bothers me. My DH finds it tedious. Anyway. I was taking an art class, which I just plain adored. It was an entire hour of blessed heaven. The teacher had to kick me out at the end of each class. We began a still life of daffodills in a bucket and we were working in watercolor, so you know I was one happy camper, but I somehow missed a class and when I got back, the daffodils were pretty much done, very wilted and turning brown. Pretty darn sad looking. Poor things. They looked like I felt. the rest of the class was finishing up their work or starting another project, but I sat down with the dead and dying and painted away. In fact, I came back on my lunch hour and after school. The teacher must have been in a patient mood because she let me. I finished my painting and handed it in.
A few weeks later there was an open house for the parents. Part of the program was an art show. Yeah, the art teacher framed and hung my daffodils. I remember they looked pretty great. I also remember bringing them home and no one wanting to hang them up because they were dead daffodils.
You would think I would have learned something.
Must be the pointy head thing. Stuff tends to just run off.
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