Are You An Impressionist Painter?

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

When I look in the mirror there I see a broken reflection. The image of fused pixels all forced into a blurry shape. Little spots of color, slowly melting together emerging as one fuzzy composition.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall?”

Emotions have pixilated this image. Some obscured by the weight of the world, some self induced and some just left over paint, all blurring what now we see. Are we impressionist’s?

One begins with primary colors. Those three colors from which all others are formed; the building blocks, the original pixels to any work of art. Their meaning and intensity lie solely within the artist. Use them, lose them, try to cover them but they will forever be the gesso of your soul.

Through our daily journey we experiment with color. With merely the three original pixels we expand the palette. We mix, we add, we rearrange, and we seek our many colors. We grow.

To the art we become a canvas and the artist it be life. People, places, objects and events, all translated color pixels from the artist to the canvas. We are a forever working form of art.

To the canvas depth and light the artist’s adds. Shadows are painted to that which must stand out. To achieve this the artist must exaggerate the foreground; add color one might not wish to see. But, the vivid splash of paint moves your eye to what you did not see.

And so the journey goes, between canvas and artist. Always searching for new color, expanding palettes along the way. It has become a play of depth and light, hiding dimensions unforeseen to me .

I look again in the mirror and still a broken reflection is what I see. Pixels before my eyes are rearranging. Little spots of color are slowly melting together forming one fuzzy composition just looking back at me.

I think I use too much paint. Time to re-gesso and start a new painting.

Take a step back and look what you have created, before you add to much paint like me.



Summer Ross said, 

what a great metaphor, your use of figurative language always gets me.

November 23, 2010 at 9:12 AM  
Clarissa Draper said, 

I agree with the previous commenter. I'm horrible at metaphors and should take lessons from you as to what to write. Your prose is wonderful!

I'm not sure what kind of artist I would be if I had to paint what I saw in the mirror.

November 23, 2010 at 9:39 AM  
welcome to my world of poetry said, 

I am no good at painting or drawing but my brother is an excellent painter,
Me? I love music as you may have gathered and slides. missed my chance yesterday going through the park with my daughter, she hissled me away from one.

It is good to have you back

November 23, 2010 at 10:23 AM  
The Golden Eagle said, 

That's a wonderful metaphor. Impressionist painting does seem like that sometimes--life, in all its colors and forms.

November 23, 2010 at 10:35 AM  
a sojourner said, 

your talents and/or gifting is refreshing to read this morning, to say the least. beautifully written...

November 23, 2010 at 10:37 AM  
Arlee Bird said, 

You are an artist and you are a work of art.

Remember how sometimes artists who need a canvas will just paint over top of an existing painting. Sometimes art experts will discover one masterpiece or one historical art artifact underneath the top work of art. Our lives consist of layers.

Tossing It Out

November 23, 2010 at 11:12 AM  

your writing amazes me every time!

November 23, 2010 at 12:00 PM  
N. R. Williams said, 

Love the picture and your written account is well done. Beautiful.
N. R. Williams, fantasy author

November 23, 2010 at 12:32 PM  
floweringmama said, 

There's nothing wrong with starting over. Sometimes starting over provides well needed clarity.

Or perhaps we just don't like what we painted and we need one of those big pink erasers we used in kindergarten to start over.

Warmest wishes and happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.


November 23, 2010 at 12:37 PM  
Ellen aka Ella said, 

Beautiful I love this and I love the painting! I love how we are the canvas and all that shadows or highlights us influences our mood, our tones. You are a work of art; I agree with Lee. We all are potential
masterpieces as we continue on the colorful journeys of our soul~ You will find your rainbow, again! It is in you just waiting to shine~xXx

November 23, 2010 at 12:42 PM  
Carolyn Abiad said, 

I wish I could paint. Sigh.

November 23, 2010 at 3:43 PM  
Tammy said, 

Lovely. But lots of color does make a rainbow! ;)

November 23, 2010 at 7:46 PM  
Melissa said, 

This is a gorgeous metaphor and your use of language is striking.

November 23, 2010 at 8:56 PM  
February Grace said, 

SO beautifully written. Just gorgeous.

As someone who does try her often unsteady hand at a second-rate variation of impressionism, may I just say that sometimes, the artist misses the beauty in the work that is already there.

My family often has to physically hide my paintings from me so I don't destroy them. True story. Right now there is one that was supposed to be a nebula that I didn't like hidden somewhere in the house. I found it once. They hid it again.

Where you may see a fuzzy image, others of us clearly see the beauty that is so obviously there.

I hope that you can find it in yourself too, as you mix and add, step back and analyze. One thing about impressionist paintings is that layering of colors and light adds depth and beauty. Sometimes stripping away isn't needed, but just that one lightening touch of gold or white to let the true colors of the work shine through.

Be kind to yourself, and consider yourself hugged.


November 24, 2010 at 12:04 AM  
Flying high in the sky.... said, 

you left me all teary... about a few days back i had written a poem on the same lines... except it was a search of how do i begin my new painting now.... take care of yourself... the beauty of your thought is that you are in sync with yourself...for a second i felt we were the alternate selves.. passing through the same "point" in this big matrix.... take care...

November 24, 2010 at 12:37 AM  
I Wonder Wye said, 

Lovely painting and enjoyed the post; family of artists and my stuff looks like cartoons - but I can make custom needlepoint pillows of people's pets that are so lifelike they've often burst into tears upon seeing them (usually when the animal companion is no longer living; and in a good way ;) I am a writer so that is my main expressive form.

November 24, 2010 at 1:44 AM  
Paula said, 

Wonderfully described. I usually use a different art to describe MOI. Stonehewing. I am the sculptor and the sculpture.

November 24, 2010 at 7:12 AM  
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