Still Living/Breathing and Painting

What a totally strange half a year the world has had. I have been stressed out, stressed down, isolated, un-isolated, creative/lethargic, using darks to dig a hole, and lights to climb out of the hole. The virus had to be slowed/stopped by a heightened awareness all around ourselves of actions we took for granted. For the first few weeks I (we) kept to ourselves, in the house except for a daily walk and the very occasional trip to the food store. Slowly I decided that going to my studio, only 200 yds. away, would not be putting myself or anyone else at risk, so I started up again-and it totally saved me. Being able to sling paint around and forget the outside world for a few hours every day was total bliss.  

Some painters have addressed the pandemic in their painting. Some have addressed the politics surrounding implementation of restrictions. I haven't done either. Just kind of picked up where I left off, with a renewed need to brighten up my palette, but often finding my canvases very dark and depressing. I am so glad that I live in a country that has managed this pandemic sensibly, so that we can, for the most part, get on with our lives. Galleries and museums are open, many pillars of everyday life are back to normal. We still are using masks and keeping our distance on public transportation and in public spaces. We care about each other. Maybe that is what I am painting these days.....(exception being day after a certain TV debate, where so much aggression had to come out....). I highly recommend a creative outlet for that energy surging around inside of us these days, be it writing, dansing, cooking, quilting, painting-combined with physical activity and fresh air. 

This virus will not go away without a fight, so do all the recommended actions and get yourself your flu shot and pneumonia vaccine while waiting for the Covid vaccine to be available, and then try to live your life as much as you can. 

GOOD morning from the west coast of Norway.
I just re-read my previous post, and it couldn't be more ironic compared to the reality we are dealing with now. What a difference a month makes. I'm not going to give a report about how Norway has handled this pandemic, just suffice it to say that we must be doing something right (social distancing!!).
About the art, a funny thing happened with it in the last month. At first, I wasn't sure if I could even go to my studio or out of the house for non-essential reasons. I decided to do a series of drawings of things I have around me, since drawing is something I enjoy, but isn't generally a part of my painting practice.  So, I started out with some dried roses that are still on various tables around the house. I generally buy new flowers about every 2 weeks to cheer me up and add some beauty to the house/kitchen, so when this pandemic began and I was buying essentials to stock up with, flowers were NOT on my essentials list. Consequentially, the flowers I had I let dry out completely. The small drawings were fun and each one was different, so I felt in touch with creativity still. I made 4 watercolours and one black and white charcoal.  (gifting these to friends and family).  But I needed more-larger scale, bolder colors, bolder strokes. I started to go over to my studio-with disposable gloves, hand sanitiser and lots of wipes. Although we are 16-17 artists in the building, we don't see each other or work together and only meet if we feel the need to discuss "issues".  I tried to continue on some work that was started B.C. (before Corona!), but the optimism and drive were gone. Some days I just went there and slept, read and went home again. The weather didn't help-wet, foggy, repressive. I ended up painting over many works that were lighter, brighter and "springy". I took out lots of photos of wooded trails with dark greens and browns. Most of these had light somewhere in them, either with the sun flooding through trees on the mountain tops, or small specs of light on new plant growth covering the ground.  My whole palette turned dark, but not a repressive dark, just dark greens with a very little gold/yellow somewhere....hope, in a way.  I completed a large (120 x 100 cm.) (3 x 4 ft.) canvas, and moved on to 3 other ones, smaller and in different formats. I'm thinking that even though we are in a dark place right now worldwide as far as this disease is concerned, the sun is still shining, the plants have tiny leaves and tiny flowers, and the birds are still singing. My daily walks and my studio are two things that I can do to take my head to another place and distance myself from some of the horrible realities "out there". Take care, everyone, and don't do stupid things that will just prolong the agony of this situation. Air Hugs!!

Acrylic on canvas  60 x 50 cm. 

Acrylic on canvas,  100 x 70 cm. 

Acrylic on canvas  60 x 50 cm. 

Acrylic on canvas  80 x 100 cm. 

Acrylic on canvas  120 x 100 cm.

Good morning from the west coast of Norway in March. We have had a very wet and grey start of the year 2020, full of storms, snow, avalanches.  The necessity of removing yourself from the reality of what is outside your window is  what keeps us sane. People have their jobs (hopefully indoors), books to escape into, music, art, sports, etc. We turn inside. Hopefully, soon we will turn outside again. We have had short bursts of good weather and sunshine, but, let me repeat, SHORT.  Just enough to remind us that the sun IS behind those grey clouds, and the days are getting longer. Hallelujah!!!!
I have escaped to Geilo (in the mountains between Bergen and Oslo) where the snow is 3-4 ft. high and still accumulating, and everything outside is white. Now, that might seem like a good thing and it is when the sun comes out and the blue sky, sun and white snow lighten everything up. But white is still a colourless blanket that is cold and lifeless. You can go out and play in it, when you put on 4 layers of wool and wind stopper jackets. The wind!!! Good luck skiing downhill when the wind is blowing 60 m.p.h. Breathing is hard, seeing is hard (goggles take care of that, though). I can take it for about 2 weeks, then I have to come back to Bergen, to my own home, to my studio and friends and family. The studio, especially. I walk around here in our small city and find hundreds of flowers and bushes ready to pop with buds and the azaleas spreading their message.... pink and delicate.
So, when I get to the painting table and squeeze out/scoop out gobs of buttery paint, I have spring in my head. It's time to be done with black, leafless mountains, cold, grey skies, completely white landscapes.....it's time for a change!