Light filtering in through the leaves of the trees, majestic mountains with snow-covered peaks, gorgeous sunsets, billowing clouds... All of these things sweep me up and carry me to a place of wonder. I feel at peace in nature, and when I am painting nature. There is a freedom and rhythm in painting a landscape. It's difficult and challenging, but I love it anyway! I love being able to use a wide variety of colors and values and textures. Of course you can find those things in still-life compositions as well. But there is a wildness is painting a landscape that I don't have when I'm painting a still-life.
I almost feel like I'm being sucked into the landscape I'm painting. I can escape the city I'm living in: the noise, the concrete, the cars, and barking dogs... and go to a place full of fresh air and color, and the peaceful sounds of nature.
I hope that others can escape into my paintings, the way I escape when I'm painting them!
There is an artist named Duane Keiser whose painting style is very similar to mine. A few years ago, he embarked on a journey to do a painting a day. Granted, they are small paintings. But still, he completed one a day.
I have decided to follow Duane Keiser's lead. For the next 90 days, I will paint one painting a day. I will be doing a mix of still life and landscape paintings. My goal for this project is to continue to improve my skills, learning how to render even more accurately. And by attempting to complete one painting a day, I will also be increasing my painting speed. I will be forced to make quick decisions about composition and content. I am excited about this venture! I am looking forward to seeing where this journey takes me!
If you would be interested in following my painting a day journey, please sign up for my mailing list. Or you can go to my blog, http://lizhumeart.blogspot.com/.
I've recently been doing mini-paintings of beautiful places. I love to travel and see the world, and it only seems natural to paint what I have seen. Unfortunately having muscular dystrophy limits some of what I can see and do. But thankfully I have a boyfriend who is an avid hiker and photographer, so he can get to places I would never be able to get to. And he shares the photos and the stories with me so I get to live vicariously through him! And, he lets me paint the pictures I like. I think he likes that I do that!
Several years ago he made a trip to Switzerland and went hiking to many amazing places. One of those was the famous Matterhorn. Here is an excerpt from his blog about that trip: "The trip to Zermatt is a bit of an adventure itself and the train ride
approaching the town is incredibly scenic. We only had two days there and I was worried about not seeing the
Matterhorn because it was clouded over. However, the second day I was
determined to have the best chance possible of seeing it so I began
hiking up trails above the town on the nearby mountains. About midday
the clouds started parting and I became visibly excited on the trail (I
think even breaking into song with The Hills Are Alive . . . ) as the
Matterhorn came into view. Even
though I have seen many great mountains, the Matterhorn is unique with its
sharp contours and setting about Zermatt without any competing peaks.
Zermatt, although a big tourist destination, is an enjoyable town to
hang out in. With a clear sky the setting is amazing with views of the
Matterhorn as you walk the town."-- John Nietfeld, travel blog.
The painting is 5"x7" on canvas panel, and is currently up for auction on Ebay. If you would like to bid, click here.
I recently visited Hawaii, and fell in love with Kauai! It was so beautiful. I took about a million photos, so I have lots of reference materials for future paintings.
My first painting is a 5x7 of Kilauea Lighthouse. The sky and sea were so amazingly blue!
This painting is for sale on ebay, with bidding starting at $19. It's the first of my Hawaii series! I plan on doing many more miniature paintings of Hawaii before I decide on a large one to tackle.
If you are interested in bidding, please click here.
Soon I will be applying for a Master of Fine Arts program. I'm excited, but nervous! The good thing about applying for my Master's is that it has forced me to really think about who I am as an artist. What is important to me? What do I want to share with the world? What do I love to paint? What motivates me? I have discovered that I love doing landscapes. I also love portraits & still-life painting, but landscapes feel a bit freer to me. Still-life paintings and portraits are very demanding, requiring lots of attention to detail, and great accuracy. Those are the things love about those subjects! I like to be challenged. But sometimes they prove to be tedious and I have trouble motivating myself to keep going and finish. I don't seem to have that same problem with landscapes.
But I don't want to simply be a landscape painter, or a still-life painter, or even a portrait painter. Being a realist means that I want my paintings to really look like the subject. But art should not just be like a photograph. It should be better. It should have heart, be thoughtful, pull people in. So I want my paintings to be more. The painting I'm working on now is called "Few Will Enter." The setting reminds me of the passage in the Bible about the narrow way, and that few people will enter there. It's a challenge to keep our faith and be the best part of ourselves. I still have some work to do, but I wanted to post it "in progress." It's a sneak peek! Hopefully I'll be able to post the finished painting soon!
There are some people whose lives seem to just fall into place. They find what they want to do, and then the doors open up for them and they live their dream. At least that's the way it seems to people like me, who feel like every step is such a struggle!
I have this disease, called Congenital Myasthenic Syndrome (CMS). It makes all of my voluntary muscles get weak after very little exertion. I can talk for a very short time before I start lisping, my smile is barely noticeable most of the time, I have trouble lifting a gallon of milk. Luckily for me, I am not weak all of the time. There are many days that I can walk almost as much as anyone, and I can lift things without a problem. Unfortunately my smile isn't ever any bigger, and my eyelids are always a bit droopy. The eyelids and the arms getting weak can certainly affect me as I'm painting!
There are times when I lose my grip on the paintbrush, and it falls on the painting (grrr!). But the good thing about oils is that I can wipe off the paint and cover it up. It's about finding a way to work through the problem, instead of giving up. And I often have trouble carrying my paintings to a new place for display. I always seem to be going through a weak spell when I have to take my artwork somewhere! But I can't miss an opportunity to display my work because I'm weak. I just have to find a way to do what I need to do.
When I was at Angel Academy of Art in Italy, I was the only one unable to stand at the easel, but the school had a bench easel I could use. I found a way to make it work. It was hard to get around Florence while dealing with a disability. I had enough strength to use a bicycle, but often when I got off the bike my legs were like jell-o and I needed help getting to class. But I didn't give up and go home. I didn't have the strength to ride across town to the school's other studio for my afternoon class, but they worked with me because they wanted me to be there as much as I wanted to be there. I wanted to learn. There were days I could barely get my groceries into the apartment because I was so weak. But still I stayed. I will never regret the time I spent there, and I feel like it had a profound effect on me as an artist. My skills as an artist improved more during that time than at any other time in my life.
I had hoped that my time at Angel Academy would mean I could come home and my life as an artist would begin. People would be standing in line for one of my paintings. It would all just fall into place. But boy, was I dreaming! I have learned that any success an artist has comes from a lot of hard work, and after a lot of rejection and failure. There is no magic formula, except for hard work. Sometimes you sell, and sometimes you don't. But you have to keep painting, keep pushing yourself, keep getting out there and letting people know what you have to offer. I know that I face some challenges that other people don't have. But others have challenges that I don't have. We can never make lame excuses for our lack of success. We have to push through the adversity and find our way to the other side.
I have just started an online illustrated devotional. I feel that as a Christian artist it is important to use my gifts to bring people to God. Not that every painting has to be overtly spiritual. But I believe that art can be uplifting, moving, convicting, empowering, inspiring. So I am hoping that I can combine my art with my thoughts on God and life, and maybe bring a little bit of hope, joy, and peace to the people around me.
Anyone who has attended a modern atelier has most likely heard of Charles Bargue. For me he was both the bane of my existence and my greatest tutor. When I first started school at Angel Academy of Art, they had each of us choose a Bargue drawing to copy. I chose the "Tete d'Enfant," which looked quite simple, and I figured I should be done in no time. But then I was told we had to copy it exactly. Perfectly. To the tee. That still didn't sound too bad. I mean, it's not like I was copying the Mona Lisa. I still thought I should finish fairly quickly. Then they told us that many students only finish a couple of Bargue drawings per term- in three months!!! I was shocked. I looked again at the Tete d'Enfant, and wondered how much time we would be spending together.
The teachers passed around a ball of string, which we would use to measure precisely from the Bargue drawing to our own. We carefully drew matching plumb lines on the Bargue drawing and on our own blank page. The lines had to be perfectly parallel, with the top and bottom of the drawing marked off. Then the measuring began. From one point of the drawing to the next, making sure each measurement was exact before moving on. Periodically the teachers would come by and check our points (we didn't actually have lines drawn yet). "This point needs to come in by a hair," they would say. Over and over I heard this, and I began to doubt my entire identity as an artist. Not only that, but it turns out all my life I had been holding the pencil wrong! I had to learn all over again. And how to sharpen those pencils with an exacto knife and sand paper. I felt like I was in another world.
Weeks went by and still I was working on this stupid Tete d'Enfant. I thought I would never finish. Finally after about four weeks, I found myself in tears, ready to throw in the towel. I just didn't think I could take it anymore. But some of the other students who had been there before encouraged me to keep going, they knew I had it in me. And something clicked. It's like my eyes were opened. I was finally able to see every shape that wasn't completely right, every shadow that wasn't just the right shade. I worked diligently another week, and finally heard the blessed words from the teacher "You can start working on the next one." I felt like a weight had been lifted. When I chose my second Bargue drawing I was more careful. I wanted something I wouldn't mind looking at for a while! I managed to finish three Bargue drawings that term.
I am certainly no expert on Charles Bargue. But his book has influenced and taught thousands of artists, challenging them to rise to the level of greatness possessed by Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Raphael, Carravaggio. It has been two years since I came home from Italy, and I have just purchased my own copy of his book. I plan to do at least one more Bargue drawing, just for my own edification. I just hope that I can still hear the voices of my teachers saying "This needs to come in by a hair" and "This isn't quite the right shape" and "I have a feeling this is just a little too narrow." Harley Brown has a saying that "Practice doesn't make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect." That should be the motto for the modern atelier.
To see my Bargue drawings, simply go to my "works" page and click on "drawings."
"A Taste of Italy" was recently selected to be part of an exhibit at the Frist Center in Nashville, TN. I am thrilled, as this will be the first time I will have a painting in a "real" gallery! This painting is especially meaningful to me because it is a tribute not only to Italian food (which I love!), but to Italy itself- with the colors and arrangement representing the Italian flag; and it is a tribute to Angel Academy of Art in Florence, where I had the privilege of studying for several months. "A Taste of Italy" will be featured in a group show for artists with disabilities. I was diagnosed with a form of muscular dystrophy nearly 20 years ago. This show is an opportunity to show how people with physical limitations can still contribute something worthwhile and beautiful to society. The exhibit will run from May-September of 2008.
I never really painted figures until after I went to Italy. I always felt like figures were my weakness. In college, there wasn't much instruction given in my figure drawing classes. When I went to Angel Academy I finally was taught how to draw the figure. It went from being something I feared to something I loved. That became my favorite three hours of the day. When I came home, a couple of people suggested that I look at the figure paintings of artists like Pino and Royo. I was inspired by their bold brushwork and the fluidity of their figures. I started doing my own impressionist figure paintings, and was pleasantly surprised at how popular they became.
