Driving Miss Crazy

Morning is my most sluggish time of the day. It takes a while to get my motor running, and then it needs another kick around 10:30 or so. Morning people must accomplish more things than I do....because my day drags until just before lunch. Of course, then it's time to actually eat lunch, which takes more time, so that my day really gets started at around 12:30.

This morning, I thought it would be a good idea to practice for next weekend's street painting extravaganza. Remember, I'm "painting" a ten foot by ten foot square in the middle of a street downtown, to raise money for the Center for Hearing and Speech.

Amazingly, I think I made it outside by 10-ish. Reese helped me mark off a giant square on our driveway, and I sketched and started working on an image that I thought would look great for the festival. Turns out that it was a big mess. So I washed off the first image, got out the leaf blower to dry the driveway, and got to work on a second image.

Good grief. It is so challenging. I, for the life of me, couldn't figure out proportions, even after Reese came inside and made a grid of the whole image. And I am worn out, and didn't even finish a one foot by one foot portion of the whole thing. And it's the afternoon....prime time, but I am out of gas.

Good Press

Here is a link to the article by Nick Keppler in the Night and Day section of the Houston Press.

The Amazing Reese

My husband is amazing. He's building all the frames for the show. As he finishes each frame, he frames each painting, and brings them back inside to hang on the walls. These frames have transformed the collection painting by painting, until it looks like we are living in an art gallery. His fine craftsmanship helps the eye focus on the painting, not the space around it. While they are absolutely perfect for the paintings, they might easily be overlooked. When you come to the show, and everything looks great, it will be in part because Reese has done such an outstanding job with the frames. He's putting the finishing touches on the last three frames today.

By the way, he also built the art studio website from scratch, and photographs all the paintings.

FROM BACKYARD TO BAQUERO

A very talented friend wrote this press release:

Local artist Sarah Hazel brings newfound vision and talent to local gallery

October 24, 2006 - Morningside Place - A couple of years ago, if one wanted to view Sarah Hazel’s painting prowess, their only option was standing in the backyard of her Morningside Place home. On November 9, from 6-9 p.m., however, the Baquero Gallery in Rice Village provides a more fitting venue to showcase her depiction of “beauty in ordinary moments” at the opening reception of her solo exhibit.

During Spring Break in 2004, Sarah and her four daughters scaled a portion of their roof to recreate masterpieces on the back of their house: van Gogh’s Starry Night, Paul Cezanne’s Big Trees, and Claude Monet’s Sailboats at Sea, Pourville, and water-lily series. (A house-painting budget dried up after contracting for the front of the house, leaving the back of the house bare). Sarah attributes this mammoth, hurricane-proof mural as an artistic awakening of sorts.

Two years later, with no formal training and only a portrait painting book purchased at nearby Half-Priced Books as a guide, the 42-year-old homemaker turned artist has produced over 85 oil paintings of which 45 will be on display in her show “Finding My Glasses.”

“My daughter, Anna, helped come up with the name (for the show). The title signifies this new vision I'm discovering through painting, this new way of looking at life,” explains Sarah. “I'm transforming from one phase of my life to a new phase of being a professional artist. I'm truly ‘finding my glasses.’”

“I’ve stumbled through life,” muses Sarah. “I’ve never had an interest in painting. Never had the desire at all. I took one class, brought home a sunflower still life, and my husband was so enthusiastic that he went out that weekend and bought me all the supplies I’d need.” Now when she paints, she “feels God’s pleasure” (can’t you hear the Chariots of Fire theme?)

Sarah describes her work as a fusion of post-impression and post-modern art. Her strokes are bold, the colors bright, while the paintings summon a “peaceful response.” Sarah’s collection of paintings varies from still lifes to portraits to landscapes, with no particular genre capturing a leading role. The common thread are the moments captured in each piece – ordinary life.

“There are years of ordinary events, especially for a wife, homemaker, and mother of four daughters,” explains Sarah. “My life was confined to ordinary moments, as most of our lives are: yet, in the midst of those, you can find beauty and be content with what God has given you.”

What Providence has now provided is a deep desire to create and a newfound talent to do so. If you miss her at Baquero, Sarah still might let you walk through her backyard gate and get a glimpse of where it all began.

A portion of Sarah's proceeds from the opening reception benefit Center for Student Missions (www.csm.org) a non-profit organization dedicated to serving the men, women, and children who reside in Houston’s urban centers.

Solo exhibit:
Finding My Glasses
Opening reception – Thursday, November 9, 6-9 p.m.
Baquero Gallery
5502 Chaucer
Houston, TX 77005

For more information:
http://sarahhazel.blogspot.com
www.sarahhazel.com

A Second Time

This morning was the second workshop for Via Colori, an upcoming street painting festival to benefit The Center for Hearing and Speech. Like before, we were given brief instruction, then went outside to a chalked off square to practice "painting." Between the last workshop and this, I have at least learned how to dress for the event....stretch jeans (to accommodate all the bending), a long undershirt (to cover the distance between the jeans and t-shirt as I bend over---think plumber), and a baseball hat to keep the sun and hair off my face.

Like before, the professional artist demonstration was overwhelming. The artists who fly around the country giving demonstrations usually paint in the tradition of Italian street painters, which would be very similar to Italian Renaissance paintings, such as a Michelangelo copy of the Sistine Chapel ceiling. I'm not kidding; one of the slide examples of a street painting that the workshop artist worked on recently was a copy of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Another intimidating factor in both workshops was the artists talking about how long it takes them to complete a street painting, which is here today, gone tomorrow. "Days, weeks, months, who knows?"* Will it really take that long?

The practice square for both events was two feet by two feet. The actual square size that I will paint in the event will be ten feet by ten feet. Gulp. That's a lot of ground to cover, literally.

One more thing to note as I look at the photo of today's art, it's likely to be difficult to get proper balance, colors, lights and darks when the size of the canvas (street) is so large, and I'm right on top of it. When I paint on actual canvas, I constantly walk back and forth to see how the painting is developing. With these street painting parameters, and the larger scale, and not being able to see it properly, well, it's just a different dynamic. Should be fun.

* Quote attributed to Eeyore

Thoughtless

What I should be doing right now is writing the description cards for each painting in the exhibit. Since they all developed through the use of my mind and hands, it stands to reason that I should have something eloquent to say about each of them. However, I sit here twiddling my opposable thumbs and can't think of a thing to write.

Houston+art=h'art

On the same night as the gallery opening reception, one of our favorite Houston organizations is having their annual fundraiser. Because we can't be there that evening, I've decided that ten percent of my proceeds from the opening reception will go to CSM Houston. "Center for Student Missions partners with existing local ministries to live out Jesus' call to feed the hungry, clothe the stranger, visit the sick, and reach out to the prisoner. CSM Houston focuses on serving the men, women, and children who reside in Houston’s urban center."

My four daughters have all participated in this program. They can now put names with the homeless faces we see in the streets everyday. They have served meals in soup kitchens, played games with children at community centers, and gotten dirty weeding a community garden.

The opportunities for influence continued long after the week of CSM was over. They have continued their service by tutoring Star of Hope children, organizing medical supplies, and have made lasting friendships. One young lady has come over several times for family meals, and to braid my daughter's hair. Another huge benefit from our daughters involvement is that we now know where all the good ethnic restaurants are. Jerk chicken and ginger beer.....yum!

In effect, CSM serves the city of Houston by helping a little bit with the many organizations designed to minister to the marginalized. Houston really is full of heart.

Icing on the Cake

It has been a great self-imposed trial to complete the paintings for the exhibit that is now less than a month away. Today I determined that I have enough finished works, and anything I get done from this point forward is icing on the cake. This is a HUGE relief.

The process required to get to this point has been rigorous, but delightful. Good thing I enjoy painting so much.

The invitations are in the mail. Not everyone who reads this will get a mailed invitation, but please know that I am extending my personal invitation. I would be pleased for you and your friends to attend.

Details on my website: Sarah Hazel

It Twirls

Part of our homework in preparation for the exhibit has been to visit other galleries. While we were there enjoying other Houston artists' works, we also studied these galleries and exhibits on a technical level. We looked at how pieces were curated, framed, promoted, priced, etc. Most galleries followed similar patterns, but all galleries have a unique personality.

G Gallery is stamped with the personality of Wayne Gilbert. Wayne is considered/called the "Godfather of Art" here in Houston. He knows everyone and even promotes other galleries/artists exhibits, not just his own. It was in this gallery where the newest addition to our personal art collection was found.

Called Leaf Mechanism 1, it's a bronze sculpture of two leaves "sewn" together and spinning on a turntable, as if blowing in the wind. The artist, Ketria Bastian Scott, took an old Victrola motor and built the sculpture on top of it on top of a wooden pedastal. The turnkey to work the mechanism is attached to the wooden pedastal. In the artist's words, "the look is soft and fragile, yet when bronzed, it changes to a symbol of endurance."

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

This morning I'm a little sore....

Yesterday I went to a workshop to teach and inform artists on techniques in street painting. The Center for Hearing and Speech is hosting Via Colori on November 18th and 19th, a two day street painting festival "celebrating the artistic journey for a truly worthy organization. The festival will showcase over 100 artists who will create original works of art on the street in pastel."

After brief instruction, we were encouraged to go outside and try our hand at this new medium. Two foot by two foot practice squares had been chalked off on the asphalt driveway as our canvas. There was a box of pastels for every four artists to share, and that was it. After 15 or 20 minutes of lunging, squatting, and bending as the sun was setting, I became more and more excited. Completely enchanted, I half wished I could jump through the painting. Silly penguins would sing, tap dance, and serve tea. Or maybe I would race through the countryside on my carousel horse, just like in Mary Poppins.

Any artists want to join me? The memory of the evening far outweighs the pain in my legs, back, and arms. Really.

Win/Win

Last week we met with David Baquero of Baquero Gallery to fine tune some points regarding the exhibit in November. We are on track for just about everything, even with all the details that need attention.

When first approached to do an exhibit, I was of course flattered. Then terror set in as I reflected on all the work ahead. The gallery wanted 50 works for a solo exhibit. So, for the last 9 months I have been painting furiously getting ready. Now, feeling sure that things are coming together, paintings and business details, I am actually looking forward to the exhibit.

Who knows how people will respond? That's way beyond my control. I can, however, determine to enjoy the party. If people like the art, great. If people don't like it, well, they don't like it. I've enjoyed the experience either way.

What about Haiku?

Needing a story
for each painting in the show
What about haiku?

Finding my glasses...
Come enjoy reading about
Sarah Hazel art

Art is beauty found
in the breath and the passion
of everyday life

Bold strokes, bright colors
all while the paintings summon
a peaceful response

Paragraph or verse?
keep the attention focused
short and to the point

Museum Thursdays

On Thursdays, the Museum of Fine Arts is free. Just for the love of it, and the effort to get there, on Thursdays, they let everyone in free of charge.

Not having been in a few weeks, to my delight, they had re-arranged some of the permanent collection. I LOVED IT! There's nothing better than seeing things in a new light, on a new wall, or next to an oldie but goodie.

On a tip from one of my docent friends, I heard that the Suzanne Valadon self portrait was back. Argh. I couldn't find it. I loosely based my own self portrait on the Suzanne Valadon piece. Suzanne Valadon was an artist model, featured in several Renoir, Degas, and Toulouse-Lautrec paintings. On the advice and suggestion of one of her many art friends, she, too, tried her hand at painting. The result of which is truly magnificent, her self portrait. Her gaze is direct, and the piece as a whole is moody.

And there was a Matisse that I don't remember from the collection. Called "Olga Merson," it clearly demonstrated the frustration of trying to find a balance between the image and the self expression an artist portrays. It is a huge relief to know that an artist as great as Matisse had to re-work his paintings.

And one of my favorite treats every time I go to the museum is seeing the Mary Cassatt of "Susan Comforting the Baby." Mary Cassatt has a way of focusing on the focal point, in this case Susan's gentle countenance. Though her brush strokes are very loose in the rest of the painting, she brings our eyes, and a bit of our hearts to this tender scene.

Mission Accomplished

Years ago when our daughters were young, we took a weekend trip to San Antonio. We stayed with some friends, and they very graciously offered to watch our four daughters (ages 4, 5, 8, and 10) so that Reese and I could have a day to ourselves.

This hardly ever happened. Our budget was always stretched to the limit back then, and it was rare when we could afford a babysitter. To have a whole day was almost a dream come true. We still didn't have any money, so we went to the Alamo. It was free.

The Alamo is the northernmost in a series of missions along the San Antonio River. The Spaniards built these missions in the 18th century as a way convert the indiginious peoples to Christianity. The Alamo, or Mission San Antonio de Valero, was one of the smallest missions. Little of the original structure stands today. It is understandably crowded as a site where Texans fought Santa Ana and his Mexican army for independence. It does feel like one is walking on hallowed ground when there.

Along a nine mile stretch of the San Antonio River south of the Alamo sit four other missions. There is Mission Conception, Mission San Juan Capistrano, Mission San Jose, and Mission San Francisco de la Espada. There is a series of auquaducts that watered the crops grown inside the mission grounds. San Jose Mission still has the outer wall around on the inside of which were rooms for the converts. The strong outer structure was able to protect itself against Apache and Commanche raiders. San Jose Mission has a mill, too, part of the elaborate design of this well known "Queen of the Missions." The sanctuary is enormous, and still used by the local Catholic community for mass.

We were telling this story to our daughters as we were driving home the next day. We were mostly driving home. What we were really doing was driving in the direction of the San Jose Mission. When we suddenly pointed the mission dome and steeple in the distance, our daughters all shouted, "Oh, let's go! Can we go?"

"What do you think, Reese? Do we have time?"

"Sure. Let's go."

Tweaking

Recently my husband informed me that a certain segment of our society is using the term "tweaking" to describe the way a body feels as it's coming down from a drug induced high. The body starts twitching, called tweaking, while the user is crashing and searching for the next fix.

Also recently, a well respected art friend of mine came over to offer advice on my upcoming exhibit. She looked at everything, and with a trained eye critiqued about twenty paintings that need a little tweaking. Just a minor adjustment here and there....and I suddenly understood the druggie's plight. Her advice was sound and well appreciated, but just the thought of the work ahead of me caused me to inwardly twitch.

So while inwardly crashing, I'll get out my paints and tweak more than a few, searching for the right fix....er, adjustment. I'm definately tweaking.

Zinnias

During the age between being a girl and becoming a woman, we lived in the same area as my grandmother (Gram) for whom I am named. At the time, Gram lived in an apartment and didn't have a garden of her own. So on the weekends, she would come spend the night, (we shared a room) and garden in our yard to her heart's content. This was my first exposure to someone who truly loved growing things. Because it was in my mother's yard, she kept most of the garden formal. But on the side of the house that couldn't be seen from the street, she planted a whole bed of zinnias.

No matter what was going on in the house, I could always go outside and sit in the dirt next to Gram. I don't remember talking much. I'm sure we did; we were very close. What I do remember, was being completely loved and accepted. She never judged me. She was quick to laugh. And for whatever reason, I understood that she understood me. I didn't have to pretend to be happy. She just loved me, no matter what.

During the week I would often go to the zinnia bed and marvel at the flowers. How could so many beautiful flowers come from one tiny seed packet? I would try to find a favorite, but in the end I liked them all. I would gather a bouquet and take it to my room, and wait for my roommate to return. Zinnias, in all their glory, became synonymous with perfect love, acceptance, happiness, and contentment.....just like my grandmother. All the best parts of me stem from my grandmother's influence that started growing all those years ago in the zinnia bed.

Wet Paint

Within the last week I have found paint:

on the floor
on the leg of my easel
on my husband's forearm
on my husband's swim suit
on my husband's shirt at the pool
all over my hands
on my arm
on my neck
on my ear
on my cheek
on my bottom lip
on the telephone
on the back door
on a frame
actually on the canvas, and
on the seat of my pants, which makes me wonder if it's
on the sofa.

Ducks in a Row

The exhibit is fast approaching. (November 9th, Baquero Gallery) Not only am I trying to complete more paintings, I am also working closely with the gallery to get all my ducks in a row, so to speak. There will be a point soon when the portfolio needs to be finished, no more paintings to add to it. There's a brochure to create, an artist's statement to tweak, postcards to make, and people to invite. There's more, but it's overwhelming to think of it all at once.

Joy and Papa

Papa is my dad. I call him Dad, not Papa. Papa is his grandfather name. He just so happened to be the first person in our family to hold Joy when she was born. So the reader isn't grossed out, I sent dad out of the delivery room one minute, Joy was born and named, Dad came in the next minute and held Joy. What I remember saying (I was completly looped out on the drug of the day) as I looked at how sweet it was that my favorite dad in the whole world was gently holding our new baby was, "Dad, can I hold her now? I think I'm getting a little jealous."

Something magical happened between the two of them in that moment.

Which is partly why I faded the background in the painting. The focus of the painting is what's happening between a grandfather and his grandaughter. He's not just reading a book, he's holding my daughter. For a moment she's still, relaxed in Papa's arms. His strong hands are protecting Joy behind a picture book, and Joy is so relaxed that she's sucking her thumb. For any father to sit in a living room and read a silly book to his grandchild is a beautiful wonderful event. For my dad to read to sweet Joy is a cherished memory.

The initial jealousy at seeing Sarah Joy in my dad's arms in the hospital all those years ago has long since departed. In it's place is assurance that Papa and Joy share a generousity of spirit that infects us all. And in quiet moments, when the two of them are together, everything else fades away.

Hopelessly Devoted

Hello. My name is Sarah, (hello, Sarah) and I'm an artist.

Arguably, I've been an artist all of my life, but it's only been in the last two years that it's become somewhat of an addiction. Two years ago this October started my love affair with oil painting. It was as if all my life converged in one beautiful moment of glorious revelation at the end of a paintbrush. More often than not, on a day to day basis, I function well enough without painting. But from what I understand about addictions, one can think of nothing else except how to get the next high, the next fix, the next drink, or whatever. For me, it's how can I get the next painting out of my "foggy" brain and onto the canvas. How and when will I have the time to devote to re-creating what I see in my head to the canvas?

Maybe this art thing is not so much an addiction as it is a new devotion. Addiction would seem more like the art is controlling, that I am art's slave. Devotion, on the other hand, seems more a self sacrifice. It's more like I am giving myself to be enthusiastically attentive to this new pursuit. Devotion is a better word to describe my relationship with art anyway. Art often becomes a prayer...."God, help me finish this painting. Amen."

Brain Cloud

The new painting is a mess, or what's left of it. This morning, I swiped off four or more layers of paint on the bottom half of the painting, so that as a whole, the thing looks pretty pathetic. Similar to erasing memory, what's left on the bottom half of the painting is grey matter with no synapses.

Now, I wonder if I just made a huge mistake. Was my brain too clouded with what was before me that I couldn't see beyond it to a more finished piece?

Sometimes my whole life feels just like one big brain cloud. Everything's.....fuzzy. Maybe that's part of the reason my paintings are NOT quite so precise and detailed. Maybe my brain is a fog, and every once in a while a cool wind blows the mist around, and for a brief moment of time the haze parts, and my vision clears. And whatever was uncertain or obstructed is momentarily revealed.

Has anyone invented a brain fan, yet? Seems like that would be extremely helpful in encouraging the fog to lift, and seperate.

Simon Says....

There's a line in a Paul Simon song from his Graceland album: "Believing he had supernatural powers he slammed into a brick wall."

For various reasons, I haven't painted in three weeks. And what I thought I could do no longer seems possible, as far as painting goes. I've slammed into a brick wall. But "these are the days of miracle and wonder....so don't cry baby, don't cry." And, for what I'm painting today to turn out like I've envisioned, it will take a miracle (or at least a small wonder.)

Routines

First of all, by nature, I am not organized. So, for instance, if a day of the week wasn't scheduled for the house to get cleaned, it wouldn't happen. Mondays are designated for house cleaning.

Second, surprisingly since I'm not naturally gifted at organization, the quality of my performance often directly correlates to the cleanliness and tidiness of my environment. Go figure. It probably has something to do with my mother being a compulsive cleaner. Therefore, I force myself to clean on Mondays. This takes a huge amount of self-discipline and self-control, qualities that are not abundantly obvious in my character.

The result, when everything gets done well on Mondays, is that on Tuesdays I get to paint! Happiness.

However, even when all goes well on Mondays, life crowds in and misplaces painting time. Often it's my fault; time absorbs me when I'm at the computer. Or all the ordinary urgencies that come with running a household, like grocery shopping (a minor annoyance in my opinion) take away time. One I don't mind: a visit with a friend always takes precedence over painting. Friends are always welcome.

And since nothing is completely ordinary around here lately (is it ever?), today will be a non-painting Tuesday.

Art with Coffee

Art "coffee table" books I own:

Cezanne (one of my favorite, inspirational)
Mary Cassatt-Oils and Pastels (classic simplicity)
Mary Cassatt (refined)
Van Gogh (beauty and emotion)
Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (spirited)
Monet (landscapes and light)
Renoir (socially aware, soft)
Camille Pisarro (too many photos in black and white, pleasing)
Andrew Wyeth (amazing detail)
Manet (bold variety)
Degas (voyeuristic)
Sorolla (a gift from a Spaniard, breezy)
Henri Matisse (controlled emotion)
Matisse (calculated)
Matisse (colorful)
Georgia O'Keefe (Freudian)
Picasso (clearly brilliantly messed-up)
Rouault (dark, pious, almost expressionless)
Frida Kahlo (lots of pain and self-absorption)
Norman Rockwell (amusing, nostalgic)
Hopper (plastico is fantastico)
Faces of Impressionism (examples of many different artist's portraits--great to study)

An American in Mexico

It just so happens that we are in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.

When my friend sent the New York Times article about Donald Johnson, the prisoner who paints using the pigment leached from M&M´s, who happens to have an exhibit RIGHT NOW in San Miguel de Allende, excitement started to build. What are the odds that a long ago planned trip would co-incide with a completely random art exhibit that my dear "old" high school friend living in Pittsburgh sent me from a New York Times article? Not much, I wager.

There was limited information in the article, so the research began....and the walking. Imagine extremely narrow cobblestone roads with Mexico City traffic and steep hills similar to San Francisco; that´s San Miguel.

There was an early lead that yeilded a hint of the location of the gallery. After about a mile trek each direction, it turned out to be way off. Then a late evening trek to a series of galleries that were closed. Finally, a flier with the exhibit listed.....and today, score! Not only did we find the right gallery, but it was open.

The exhibit was at once disturbing and compelling, almost like watching a trainwreck. As stated in the New York Times article, all of the pieces were postcard size. There was very obviously leftover chocolate from the M&M's in some of the pieces. There were bits of the hard candy shell in some pieces, faded of pigment. The colors were bright; however, what I found disturbing, was that on more than a few pieces/works, there were strands of human hair stuck in the "painting." Only a select few paintings were symetrical and/or peaceful. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Lots of galleries these days are filled with abstract expressionism. There was just a quality (lack of quality?) that suggested a twisted view of life. Understandable, considering Donny Johnson has been behind bars, and in solitary confinement for most of his life...for murder.

After seeing the exhibit, what baffled me most was how this tiny gallery in San Miguel could host such a large opening night fete, and get such respected press coverage. That's very compelling. Only two of the twenty-four-ish pieces had not yet sold. Kudos, Yam Gallery. ( www.yamgallery.com )