Really Bad Blue

It was after my mother had died that I decided to strip off the kitchen wallpaper. My husband had returned to his job in another state so I had plenty of time to work. Originally I had hung the wallpaper. It was a small vinyl print with little green flowers on a white background - so very 1980's. I pushed the furniture into the center of the room. It was good therapy, peeling the old covering, then washing off the glue. It didn't matter if there were piles of paper on the floor. Although the removal was therapeutic, it obviously comes to an end.

Color. Rich, glorious, in your face color. I love it. So it was time to spread my wings and shape up the old cottage. I decided to do an accent wall. Just a little bit of space behind the counter - sort of a poor mans back splash! It would be blue. Deep, vibrant blue.

Getting a new can of paint is like a gift. It's an opportunity to change perceptions of any given space. It was time for a statement. Not waiting to prime, I spread the blue with great gusto. Wait a minute. It's not so great... Why isn't this working? I spent the afternoon trying to make myself enjoy the blue. Sure it needed another 17 coats.... Was I already going to throw in the towel? What would my family think? They would hate it. Sooooooo, at 10pm I was painting over my misbegotten blue. What a mistake. I didn't want anyone to see. But my daughter-in-law called and asked what I was up to. After hedging, I admitted the mistaken color which I was covering up. She said "You have to take a picture". Oh no I don't. She insisted and I did. So here we are almost seven years later. I've started "waitwait" the blog and what could be more appropriate than my mistaken blue.

However, the cottage was now mine and I wanted to be a good steward. Taupe came next. It was neutral, classic but, eventually, boring. Then it was green for about a day and a half. Why was this so difficult? They say you shouldn't make any decisions after a death in the family, but this was just "color". I poured through my extensive color card library. It was a rainy day - a very rainy day. NH was flooding. Roads were closed. People were evacuated. BUT I found my color!! It was terrarosa. The phone rang, it was my brother. "What are you up to today?" he asked. I told him I was going to Sherwin Williams. "But the roads are closed", he said. It made no difference. From the first brush stroke it was love! Terrarosa is not red or rose or peach, it's a compilation of all those colors depending how the light hits it.

The remainder of my blue paint went to the local theater group. Hopefully they have a night time drama coming up soon.

Sooooo don't give up. The longer the journey, the sweeter the arrival.

Really Bad Blue

Art Lessons

Naturally my granddaughters are the very best, brightest and most talented kids! That being said, we can all use some further instructions in life. That's when my role as grandmother/art teacher began.

DOING stuff has always been interesting for me. Having two eager girls to join my adventures has been gratifying. Not being trained as a teacher, I looked for some guidance. Kumon Workbooks, which are available from the bookstore, offered brightly colored pictures to cut, paste and follow the maze. The material was a great beginning.

It's been fun to see their personalities come out in their work. My six year old spends a great deal of time developing her work. She will do the assignment as well as initiate her own experimentation. My four year old is very passionate. One sticker is never enough, rather she favors a pile format, one on top of another. Her color choice is very dramatic - black is her latest favorite.

Of course we are also creating gifts for the family. Their gifts for Dad were paperweights. I shrunk some of the girls' photos down to stamp size and they used mod podge to glue them onto the rocks. The only glitch was the rocks were quite large. Oh well, it meant more pictures. And should a hurricane hit their Dad's office,he is well prepared.

They have taught me much in this process as well. Once I was taking my four year old through the steps of creating a sea monster. Each one of the coils rose above the surface of the water giving the impression of a mighty beast. When the last coil was ready to put into place, she calmly informed me that she would rather put it on her balloon and did so. It has been a challenge for me to "not help". Even though I wanted the results to be wonderful, I've learned that is not the point.

Persistence

One of my objectives in doing this blog is to remain true to my "Mission Statement". No wandering off course. Recently I posted "What's with all those cars and trucks?" It took me four tries until it posted. Soooooo don't give up out there. Although the layout is nothing to write home about - each successive try looked better.

Persistence will, eventually, get the job done. Case in point: the mural at our local Inn. As a kid I painted five foot daisies on the hall wall - no pressure there! The six inch grass was also a piece of cake. Another time I polka dotted my girls' bedroom walls with round red circles of contact paper. So I have a history of adventuresome decorating. The Inn is a totally different situation. The subject has to be recognizable - additionally it has to be a credit to a beautiful old building being gracefully restored.

The reference material came from our town history book. Years ago Labor Day was celebrated with parades and a band concert. As a former "summer person" turned "year rounder" I wonder if all the excitement was due to the annual departure of the summer residents!

The space is about eight feet wide covering two adjacent walls. It's bordered by a chair rail and well lit. Initially the corner of the composition was the most problematic. Once that was resolved the composition fell into place. Sure there are a few cases of "artistic license" but I'm not recreating the photograph.

The first day of work was very intimidating. I wanted to get something recognizable on the wall immediately. I traced over the design I had done at home with transfer paper. Oooooops, I forgot to gesso the wall first. Losing all that work was unacceptable. So I blocked in each area with tinted gesso. It looked like I knew what i was doing!

I photograph the results after each work session, so I have something to study at home. So far the results are encouraging. It appears that, once again, persistence is working.

So what's with all the cars and trucks?

It's a Dad thing! My Father was the head mechanic for a transportation/ construction company. Every time he saw an old car, it reminded him of an event. He would smile and shake his head and launch into an exhaustive retelling, right down to how many times he had to turn the bolts. From the time he had to repair a truck on the Mystic River Bridge before it was attached at both ends to the $300 he earned making two passes with a snowplow, cars were unfailingly interesting in my family.

Dad and I logged many hours in the car together. I used to ride to our cottage with my Dad's narrative for entertainment. He renamed all the road like "Old Snakeback". Our cars had names as well. He told me that if I didn't name the car, "How could I talk to it?!" "Nellybell was the first name I remember.

On our way to NH one spring we stopped in Haverhill to watch huge earthmovers do site work for a new plant. Ice cream at Wasmaco's and clams at Merle's were standard stops.

Our cars were never new, rather elderly models kept functioning by Dad. One of the first cars I remember had a city horn and a country horn. A most impressive feature. Our cars were from before directional signals were invented - back when you had to stick your arm out the window to signal your intentions.

A broken teenage romance inspired Dad to start my driving lessons at 14. He just couldn't stand any more boo hooing around the house. We went up to the Harold Parker Forest and he pulled over to the side of the road. After I got behind the wheel, he drew the stick shifting pattern in the dust on the dashboard. All the hopping and chugging soon had us both laughing. It was not all smooth sailing until Dad brought home a 1949 clunker. Since we lived on an "unaccepted" street - the term for our dirt road, Dad felt it was okay for me to drive the clunker around the neighborhood. The boy next door used to ride with me while I helped him with his homework. That must have been the beginning of talking through every crisis from behind the wheel. My shifting improved remarkably. Mud was another matter. A classmate of mine who lived further down our road was waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up. I got stuck where her driveway turned off. She was not happy to pick her way through the mud to meet her date.

In time I was legally able to get my license. Since my Mother did not drive, Dad said I didn't have to pay for anything as long as I took my Mother wherever she wanted to go. We went to a lot of ice cream stands! Each summer I would load the boat with all our summer belongings, hitch it behind the car, and drive to the cottage. Dad taught me how to back up the boat trailer. Backing up a trailer has actually become somewhat of a spectator sport around here as we live across the street from a boat launch ramp. Some folks are more successful than others, me included!

In the fall of 1989, we lost Dad. It was hard for all of us. In an effort to stay busy, I took a painting class. A beat up old car sitting in the weeds became my first sale. Later I received a commission to paint a house with the owners Porsche in the driveway. It was more fun to do the car than the house. I had found my niche.

Ties That Bind

We have been experiencing some roadblocks lately. An ice storm has disconnected most everyone in the state. Who knew what life would be like without electricity or water for a week? Not to mention the darkness starting at 4pm. Life revolved around the wood stove, flash lights and flickering candles. Don't let anyone tell you that candle light is flattering - at least not when you've been "showerless" for several days!

My mother used to say it was important "to improve the shining hours". So I used every minute of daylight, not devoted to lugging wood, to read a 723 page book. I could have been painting.

The lack of electricity has given me a new appreciation for those early artists. They accomplished so much with very little. Suddenly I wasn't running a wash, cooking or vacuuming, so why didn't I paint? Because I couldn't charge up my Ipod? It was a challenge to understand how to use the time. I could have used the natural light to paint.

We are currently in the midst of another storm - lots of snow this time. The electricity is still on but we are better prepared if we lose it this time. Tomorrow I WILL paint.

About Me

From the beginning, painting and the decorative arts have always fascinated me. I was the kid who cut out magazine illustrations, pasted them inside a box and then lay on the floor with my head inside the box. All the better to imagine myself inside the pictures. I glued decorative elements all over the mahogany woodwork of my childhood bedroom. What my mother thought was Cheerios in my closet turned out to be worms from a failed terrarium project. From building boat parade entries to painting five foot daisies on the hall wall, I was always creatively busy. During my children's early years, I made posters for every conceivable local event.

In 1974, a horse was responsible for the beginning of my "formal" art career. Due to an unpaid hay bill, I was looking for a job. I was hired at the Rochester Fair to work in the Art Department as a "boy". They usually hired boys to climb ladders and it was agreed that I would be acceptable. It was like Christmas. Between 400 and 500 paintings came in, to be hung, judged and displayed. Suddenly I was on the inside listening to the jurors critiques, learning what was good, what to avoid.

In 1989 I finally started painting. After years of assuming I couldn't paint, suddenly I was competing at the fairs and winning recognition. I took an art course at Hillsborough Community College in Tampa, FL and followed that with a class with Kathi Hobbs of Lutz, FL. In 1991 my husband and I moved into our recreational vehicle and traveled the United States. For four years I further developed my skills at workshops in Santa Fe, NM and Scottsdale, AZ.

I am a juried member of the NH Art Association, Art Superintendent of the Rochester Fair and member of the Manchester Artist Association. My web site is: marilynsbrushwithart.com. My specialties are: residential and automotive portraits.