Yesterday’s painting was loosely sketched with a brush and some thinned out burnt sienna. Today’s, the one that sat next to yesterday’s on the easel and borrowed some of its colors from time to time, had no sketch to begin, but rather just the dark green/black palette knife strokes in the middle. I added the flowers one at a time without drawing them first and with no overall plan for their design. I took them as they came and stopped when it felt enough. I meant to take pictures of the process but got caught up in the freedom, the music I was listening to, the beauty of color generously applied.
The vase is made of those wooden stretcher keys I’ve been experimenting with. I like playing with the different forms of texture–that which comes from raised paint and that which comes from an actual object glued onto a flat surface.
Just like during last January’s 31 in 31, the orchids on my windowsill are starting to get those little buds on them and will likely bloom before this month is said and done. It’s a different window, in a different house, in a different state, but the same orchids. There is something wonderfully comforting about that. Flowers are so ephemeral; funny that they would be this little delightful constant, both in my paintings and on my windowsill.