Scent of Love - Jigsaw Puzzle - Image by Chris Carter

When it was suggested that my captured-digigraph images would make great jigsaw puzzles I was thrilled. I wasn't sure it would become a reality. Thanks to Andrews and Blaine, it is. The 'Scent of Love' puzzle is currently available in Barnes and Noble stores and online.

Scent of Love Puzzle Image by Christine Reilly Carter Produced by Andrews Blaine Sold through Barnes and Noble
ISBN-13: 9780641857652

The story behind the image:

Tom, arrived home from a long day of work and saw that the dozen long-stemmed roses he had given me in the morning no longer had stems of any length at all. The beautiful, pink blossoms were floating in a bowl of water on the table. Next to the bowl was a gorgeous print I had made from scanning the blossoms. His response was a giant smile. That is true love.

And so began a seven-year detour from my path as a painter. I scanned everything in site, flowers, thorns, insects, beads, animals, tools, hinges, food, textiles and even my children. An abstract artist at heart, nature provided me with every shape, texture, color and line to play with. More than a thousand images later, the print of the pink roses remains one of my favorites. Through it all, Tom has supported my journey as an artist.

Link to Barnes and Noble listing

Portable Paint Box

Inspired by my friend Xochitl Barnes, I put together this fabulous tiny paintbox/easel. It fits nicely into my backpack and holds everything I need to paint a tiny painting. I'm looking forward to trying it out at Porters Pub this Friday night.

My return to painting on site is an attempt to refresh my ability to handle a paintbrush with poetry of line and motion. I moved away from brushwork in my large watercolor paintings. My need for expression of story within the abstract patterns has led me back to drawing and painting from life in order to bring these skills back to the larger works. I find it difficult to transfer drawings onto watercolor paper after I have built up the initial layering of patterns. I also find that when a figure is transferred, it loses a bit of its vitality. Returning to the skills of direct observation allows me to draw directly onto the watercolor paper without having to make multiple corrections that will destroy the surface of the paper.

These little studies are so much fun that I could easily become a "painting a day" fanatic. It's no wonder that there are now thousands of artists following the lead of Duane Keiser.

The cold weather is a bit of a deterrent. I've sifted through hundreds of photographs and pulled out dozens that I use for inspiration when the weather is too chilly and I'm not in the mood to paint a pair of scissors or a salt shaker.

Traveling and painting is once again a realistic notion. Over the years, the necessary supplies that I carted around to paint outdoors became ridiculously cumbersome. With a limited palette and my tiny box, I am ready to go anywhere.

A Lesson in Color Mixing

I go through phases of carrying a small bag of paints and supplies with me wherever I go and spreading myself out in my gigantic studio without a square inch to spare. The current phase is one of traveling light. Even in my home studio I am using a small box of paints and one or two brushes. I used only tube watercolor paints for the past twenty plus years. A few months ago, when I began serious re-evaluation of my palette and the mud-making color theory that accompanied it, I began experimenting with pan paints, limiting my palette to only three to five colors, using the logic of subtractive color rather than additive color. What a joy!

I had to laugh when I found an old metal paint box of pan paints a couple of days ago while cleaning out a drawer of art supplies. The paint box was made by Binney & Smith, Inc. a company that began in 1885, the creators of Crayola crayons. (In January of 2007 "Binney & Smith" changed its name to "Crayola".) The paints in the box are called "Artista Water Colors No.8" and I believe they are at least twenty years old. The colors are Primary Red, Orange No.5, Primary Yellow, Green No.7, Primary Blue, Violet No.5, Burnt Umber No.3, and Black No.? (a bit of rust over the number). What I find interesting is that the Primary Red is not the Fire Engine Red I was taught to make as a primary red in my color theory class at Spectrum Institute for the Advertising Arts in the early 70's. Nor are the primary yellow or the primary blue the primaries I was taught to create. Instead, the three primaries in my Binney & Smith paint box are closer to a Magenta, a Hansa Yellow and a Prussian Blue, the three primaries I have been using in my recent color studies. I have found that with just those three colors I can mix anything I want without it turning to mud. It still puzzles me that I didn't question the split primary color theory I was taught so long ago. Mud is guaranteed when using such a palette. Perhaps, if I had not turned my nose up at pan paints years ago, I would have learned that lesson earlier. As I recall, the choice of paints in many watercolor paint boxes are similar to the Binney & Smith No.8 collection.

Over the years I marveled at paintings with gorgeous colors, rich neutrals and pure hues that sang strongly on the paper. Though I read many books on color and tried other artists' palettes, an understanding of color alluded me. Occasionally I would be fortunate to chose my colors well. Most often, I allowed myself to fall back on the split primaries, killed the color, and fought hard to bring life back into the painting. I washed a lot of paint down the drain.

It's a bit frightening, starting from scratch. It's also a bit embarrassing. But fear and embarrassment are a small price to pay for finally feeling as if I'm on the right path toward understanding color and having control over the colors I mix.

Watercolor Painting: Nicole sitting outside the Fundació Caixa Catalunya, Barcelona, Spain

Meditation and Painting

When I was a young child, I was given an extraordinary gift, a subscription to a book club. Each month a book containing a collection of stories and poems arrived in the mailbox. The books open doors to worlds I had not experienced on my own.

As an adult I still treasure the gift of a book. This year I received a copy of "The Joy of Living - Unlocking the Secret and Science of Happiness" by Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche, a Buddhist monk. Yongey Mingyur presents the parallels between meditation and neuroscience with humor and simplicity.

My experience with meditation began at the age of fourteen. As an artist, there are times when I am painting without "creating". Those sessions leave me feeling frustrated and empty. When I am "creating" I am usually in the same state of consciousness that I am when I meditate. When I have been asked about this, I have found it difficult to explain. Yongey Mingyur explains my experience. He demystifies meditation and explains how one can be practicing meditation throughout the day during normal activities (such as painting). I am hopeful that this book will awaken readers to their own creativity and the joy that comes along with the creative experience. In my mind, observing one's environment with open eyes and an open heart is new and unique each and every time. Allowing that experience to be expressed and acknowledged even silently within one's own thoughts is creative and joyful whether the feeling is happy or sad.

Image: Music and Art in the Big Bad City by Chris Carter
Mixed Media Collage - Paper and Acrylic on Masonite
Size: 10" x 10"

Metro Madness No.2

This is the completed second painting I began after hearing of my son's close call on the Brussel's Metro. It is an excellent example of working through an emotion and coming out on the other side having survived and having learned several important lessons along the way. I am speaking about myself, not my son, though I believe his own experience was equally as valuable.

This painting was a lesson in "content and intention". I wanted it to express a quality of light, of wisdom, of coming through the darkness to a more balanced state of emotions and mind. I wanted it to be a vision of the larger experience of life, beyond the daily ups and downs.

My uncontrollable state of emotional distress was worked out in the first painting and left me free to move on and explore the post-trauma feelings. This was a new experience for me. I have not used painting in this manner, as a way to work through an experience acknowledging each and every thought and physical sensation, expressing them visually with the intent of reaching a resolution and a clarity of understanding how the experience fits into my life in a way that is positive rather than negative.

Painting: Oil on Kraft Paper "Metro Madness No.2" 24" x 48"

Dark Deja Vu

August 14, 2007 ... I received an email from my son Michael.

....Yes, a steak sounds great. I have to warn you though I am not as handsome as yesterday. Last night some kids tried to steal my sunglasses and I told them to f... off. They followed me off the tram. Three vs one. They had a knife. So I took some punches and a head butt to the face. I am ok but I have a black eye ... opoooppps haha it's terrible, almost a flawless summer. I am in good spirits. it was just bull...t.

Sun 19AUG DELTA 141 SA J LV BRUSSELS 1120A L ** AR NYC-KENNEDY 135P BUSINESS

love,
mike

.......

I'm thankful for the technology that permits instant correspondence across the ocean. Within twenty-four hours I was assured that the knife had not come into contact with my son's body and that nothing had been taken from him. He suffered a black eye, a serious cut above the eye, and a battered nose. He told me that when he exited the tram and the three guys followed him, he experienced a vivid Deja Vu of having gotten off at the same stop and being murdered. He consciously decided to alter the end result in his current reality. Fortunately he succeeded.

Back in my studio, I knew better than to work on any of the paintings that were already in progress. Though I had been as positive and supportive as possible in my emails to Mike, I knew I was not holding up well internally. I tacked two fresh pieces of kraft paper on the wall and let myself fall apart, thinking of all the possible scenarios that did not have the happy ending of seeing my son walk toward me at the airport in five more days.

My goal was to paint through the experience, expressing it, allowing it to express itself, and ultimately to grow from it, finding a greater strength from having stepped out of a safety zone where you think you can count on your children being healthy, happy and safe.

At the end of the first day of painting, I wiped the paper clean with turpentine. Ghost images remained and were the foundation of the final painting. I felt not a stroke had been wasted or unnecessary in spite of the fact that I eliminated all of them at the end of the painting session. Each stroke relieved a bit of anguish, a bit of anger, a bit of fear, a bit of frustration, a bit of worry until I was empty of those emotions and I could start to build again from the heat of the love I have for my son and the relief of knowing his heart still beats in a whole, healthy body.

Breaking Old Habits

A couple of weeks ago I felt exuberant. I felt my new paintings were strong and I was expressing a balance of creativity, skill, expression of experience and content, uniquely mine. I felt comfortable with my personal language of marks and media and I could begin to dig much deeper into the experience of daily life to strengthen the content of my work.

Inspired by Robert Genn's June 25, 2007 newsletter in which he wrote about Emily Carr, I dug through my file cabinet to find my Emily Carr folder that held a pile of papers with quotes I had copied from several of her books. When I discovered her, twenty-five years ago, I did not care much for her paintings, but I felt I found a kindred spirit. Over the years, when I strayed from the path of painting from spirit, I thought of Emily and would do my best to head back in a better direction. Among the papers in the file folder where a couple of pages from one of my journals. I thought it odd that they would be in the Emily Carr folder, so I read them to see how it was that they might relate. They didn't. They did, however, make it perfectly clear to me that I still struggle with the same mental and emotional obstacles in my life and that I have not broken the habits that hold me back, the habits that keep me from growing as a spiritual being and as an artist. I could have written the journal entries yesterday. How distressing.

Since that rude awakening, I have felt numb. That, too, is part of my habitual cycle. My solution, in order to not find myself in this same repeating cycle in another twenty-five years, is to consciously behave differently in as many small, everyday situations as I can, throughout my waking hours. I doubt than anyone could notice the difference in my behavior. I, on the other hand, feel as if a major coup is going on inside of me, making me rather uncomfortable and a bit disoriented.

The result of this exercise in moving forward is that my point of view has shifted; "truths" have revealed themselves as "attitudes". That realization opened a giant can of worms. This is just the beginning of an exciting journey, certainly not an easy one. At this point, I have nothing to lose by being even bolder and more daring as an artist and as a human being. It is easy to be bold and daring on the outside. It is far more difficult to be bold and daring on the inside.

Simplicity of Expression

Life as an artist often becomes far too complicated. I continue to ask myself "What really matters? What means of expression brings me the most joy, the most satisfaction? Of all the work I've done, which are most meaningful to me?" The truth is that the free, uninhibited flow of a line is most precious to me. Everything else I do leads up to this moment of letting go. A painting that I work on for hours or days or months is practice me for that precious moment when the eye, the spirit, the soul and the hand are united as one, inspired by music, by movement, by pattern or light.

Integrated System - Stages of Development

Integrated System - Oil on Kraft Paper

The first stage begins with a free-form, dance of line. I use soft, vine charcoal on a large (42" x 54") sheet of kraft paper tacked up on the wall with push pins. At this point I critically view the drawing from about fifteen feet away to check the flow of the line, the rhythm of the forms and the overall composition. I use a tissue or paper towel to eliminate unnecessary and awkward lines. I draw, eliminate and redraw until I am satisfied that the drawing is strong enough to support the painting. In order to begin painting, the drawing must have a spark of its own energy and life that I can nurture and develop with paint.

I decide on my color palette. For "Integrated System" I chose venetian red, cadmium yellow pale, yellow ochre, cadmium red medium, raw sienna, pthalo turquoise, pthalo blue and viridian. On occasion I will do a few value sketches. In this case I do not. I begin laying in color, basing each decision of color and value of color on the effect of the previous application and staying in touch with the developing personality and movement of the painting.

Everything goes fairly smoothly until it becomes clear that the large shape on the right side of the painting is not going to work. The left side of the painting is not balanced by the right side. The shape on the right is awkward and stops the movement of line across the two dimensional plane and prevents the viewer from entering into the dark space beyond the forms.

The final resolution was the large dark hole in the awkward shape.

A Work in Progress

The development of When Heads Begin to Roll illustrates a few of the challenges I confront when I surrender to the needs of the emerging image. I find it painful to sacrifice the freshness and the initial energy of the underwashes and the linework. The subtle suggestions of form in the preliminary translucent layers of paint are extremely seductive and my desire is to allow them to remain suggestions rather than clarify them and risk rendering them motionless and lifeless. The first challenge was the disitinct separation between the left half and the right half of the painting. Each side had a completely different feeling of space and of the movement within that space. In resolving the sense of movement throughout the entire painting I lost some of the elements of the story that I had begun to unravel in my mind. As the painting developed further I took greater risks with the values and the delineation of forms. Looking back at the first stage, I see that there are a few shapes that I need to recreate in order to maintain the original direction of the painting. After having lost several of my favorite areas of transparent overlays, I decided to see how far I could push this painting with bold colors within a limited palette. Cadmium red is always difficult for me to work with. I love the dynamics that a bright red can add to a painting if used with moderation. Cadmium red, when mixed with other colors quickly becomes lifeless. To keep the color vibrant without diminishing the strength of the forms and their movement is my currrent challenge.

The small orb on the left side beneath the upper, red corner resolved a difficult area, a shape that was causing the painting to visually split horizontally, stopping the circular movement of the heads. This solution was a surprise to me after eight unsuccessful attempts to resolve this area. Every shape within a painting, regardless of its size, can significantly alter the entire composition, setting it in motion or causing it to be static.

Image: When Heads Begin to Roll - Oil on Kraft Paper - 36" x 48" (Stages 1, 2, 3 and the final resolution #4)

Altered Ego

Last night's conversation among four artists, each working in a different discipline (painting, film, fiber, pottery) touched on how the artist's ego plays a part both in the creative process as well as the post-creative life of the completed work of art. For the most part I am not attached to my paintings once they are completed. I am happy for them to find their way into the lives of others. If I have done my job well, the painting will continue to open the mind and heart of the viewer to new thoughts, emotions, memories and ideas through a balance of beauty, movement and the tension sparked by shapes, lines and color.

Perhaps it is the manner in which I paint that prevents my ego from getting involved during the creative process. My ego must step aside and allow my anima to direct the brush strokes and the splattering of paint. The anima is defined in Jungian philosphy as the inner self, the soul of an individual, not the external persona or the ego. If I do not shut off my ego, the painting does not reach the critical point at which I begin to have a sense of direction. From that point I become extremely focused on the needs of the painting. It is not a question of what I want the painting to be but what the painting has the potential of being.

Ego may be defined as the self, distinct from the world and other selves. When I am painting well I feel as if the work I am creating is a collaborative work and I do not have a sense of ownership. Joy and the euphoria of creativity is experienced during the process of balancing the chaos with which I begin the painting and while coaxing the painting into a form that conveys a universal message. The message might be profound and it might be rather superficial, it is not something I attempt to control.

For more than twenty years, I produced art without experiencing creativity. I struggled to express something meaningful and to produce what I thought to be quality art. It amazes me that I continued to paint. I felt like I was on the right path going the wrong direction. Now I feel as if I've stepped off the path to explore the unknown. I love every minute of the adventure and the increasing difficulty of the challenge.

Knowing When to Stop

Hera Grows Suspicious ..... again and Rhapsody illustrate the dilemma of my diversity as an artist. I had grown weary of painting headless, handless, footless, naked, female torsos. The head, hands and feet are expressive elements of a figure's body language. I wanted more content in my painting. I want to express a greater depth of content both visually and spiritually. Depicting universal archetypes satisfies part of that desire.

Hera began as a practice study of a female head, using a photograph I took of my daughter, Nicole, as reference. A simple pencil sketch was followed by watercolor washes. Charcoal redefined the features, followed by more clarification with watercolor and gouache. I had achieved a well formed head that resembled my daughter. It captured her features, but not her personality or spirit. A few irrational marks with pastel brought the painting to life, the character taking on a personality of her own, not Nicole's. I carried it a bit further with a few more illogical lines, letting the artist within me direct my marks and decide when to stop. The artist within is emphatic about when a painting is resolved and I am obedient.

Rhapsody began in my usual manner of painting which is to throw splats and splotches of paint onto paper, allowing the layers to dry between throws. When an image begins to emerge, I begin to clarify the vision and tune into the energy of the marks. Sometimes other figures emerge. Rhapsody, no matter how long I worked on it, would never have evolved into the depiction of an archetype, would never have the depth of personality that Hera has. Instead it expresses another side of my spirit, a more whimsical world of illusion, fantasy and imagination. As with Hera, my inner artist nudged me to stop and I obeyed.

Communicating With Fewer Brush Strokes

I study anatomy in order to paint the movement of a figure with as few strokes as possible. It is not that I don't enjoy painting more complex works of art, it is that I value the power of a single stroke that carries a message of something as complex as a figure expressing emotion and mood through body posture and movement. Though I love thick novels I admire the well-crafted short short story, the one that is only a page long, even more.

Images:
A Dance for Dionysus - Watercolor and Oil on Canvas
Samira Belly Dancing at Easton Yoga - Watercolor

Letting Inspiration Brew

One of the wonderful aspects of aging is that enough time has passed to reveal both consistency and inconsistency in my work over time. The hints of what was yet to come are often more than subtle in my earlier work, but unrecognizable due to the simple fact that I hadn't yet lived long enough and painted enough paintings for the inspirations to develop.

Beneath the Folds is a recent painting. The media is watercolor, gouache and pastel. The composition is based on a self-portrait, a photograph I took of myself in 1975 when I spent at least half my time in a darkroom printing black and white photographs on Portriga paper. I snapped the photo one evening after having dressed for slumber. Earlier that week I found a fantastic robe in a second-hand shop. Never having been a huge fan of paisley, I was surprised that I was drawn to the pattern of the robe. Most of all, I loved the style. It zipped up the front, snuggly fitting my upper torso and flaring out below the waist. I couldn't help but swirl and dance every time I zipped it up. I felt like Ginger Rogers and Greta Garbo rolled into one.

For over thirty years it had been in the back of my mind to explore the possibilities of the image in a painting. Each time I thought to try, I knew I would get too caught up in the details of the patterns and loose the energy I wanted to express. Now that my style of painting and the language of my marks has matured, I could take on my challenge with joy.

Automatic Drawing

This drawing was done in 1982. It was the first time I experienced drawing completely from within, allowing the drawing to evolve without filters, without my brain interfering. The Surrealists referred to this as automatic drawing. As I drew, I didn't try to figure out what the drawing was about or why the content needed to express itself.

It was a terrible time in my life. My marriage had failed. I'd returned to school to work toward obtaining a Masters in Computer Technology! I was, for the first time in my life, being sensible. I was taking three courses at night while holding down a full-time job designing computer workstations. At the age of 31 my dreams were shattered. Hormones kicked in. All I wanted was to be a mother and to paint. I had always thought I could do both, but found that life was not allowing me either one.

Due to my schedule, I hadn't painted or drawn for months. Sleep deprivation got the best of me. I stayed at least five feet away from all windows as the urge to jump had returned. The two glasses of wine I consumed while cooking my week's worth of food had kicked in and my emotions swirled, gaining speed until I found a pencil and my sketchbook. I was too weak to resist the forms that emerged.

I had forgotten this drawing until yesterday when I was writing about Out of the Darkness. I have been asked about the pod-like form. I don't know what it is or why it came out of me. Nor do I understand the rings, the orbs or the saucer shapes. When these shapes emerge, I feel a release, a balance. I am where I am supposed to be if only for a moment.

Link to other automatic drawings & paintings

Orbs as Guides

After painting Out of the Darkness I experimented with allowing the first marks on my canvas to come from within and to leave my logic and judgment behind. The Orb Series and the Journal drawings are the result of giving the artist within me permission to step out into public .

I'm grateful that I stuck with it long enough (about thirty years) to get to this point of painting from within and allowing myself to experience the marks, the colors and the forms as they play with one another on the canvas without forcing them to behave in a manner that I think will result in a good painting.

Prior to this, I had experienced momentary flashes of what I would describe as creativity. Now I experience it for hours at a time and I am totally addicted to it. I'm curious and excited to see what sort of paintings I will be doing in a year, in five years, in ten years.

At this point, the orbs express themselves as spheres or as ovals, occasionally suggesting the heads of figures. The ovals appeared in the painting I posted yesterday, Rebellion in the Harem. They have crossed the line between my abstract work and my figurative work.

Image: Three Guides . Oil on Canvas

Going public

Writing in a private journal helps to focus my thoughts and to clarify the direction I might be heading in as an artist. Sitting across a table with a dear friend, sipping Portuguese coffee and sharing personal struggles as artists can unearth new issues and bring to light both strengths and weaknesses allowing for healthy growth. To push the 'publish' button on a blog posting feels like casting my thoughts, opinions and personal purpose in a hundred foot bronze form placed in the center of Times Square at rush hour. It is owning up to where I've been, where I am and where I want to be going as an artist and as a person.

My work is diverse. I am told that is a problem. The diversity is a result of my curiosity, my need for new experiences and my aversion to repetition that might lead to boredom and paintings without energy, a painting as an object rather than the result of an experience, the experience of painting. I will continue to be diverse. I want to experience as much as I can before my curtain falls.

Image: Rebellion in the Haren . Watercolor