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Dare I blog this? It's the kind of self-exposure I didn't expect a blog – or a friend – to demand of me. Yesterday, Loretta nudged me into painting rather than writing at Middle Earth, and she's hard to resist.
Before I knew where I was, a page had been sliced from my pad of canvasses, a sketch of a frog was plopped in front of me, I'd taken a sponge, dipped it in dobs of green and white acrylic, and created a background. Loretta whisked this away to dry and handed me a pencil. “Now, sketch a frog. Copy that one”, indicating a pencil sketch in a copy of Artist's palette. I shuddered and obeyed. My attempts were all out of proportion and the toes were pointy. So I practised frog toes all over my piece of paper, gradually getting them rounded, although padded was beyond my skill. Soon the page was filled with disembodied feet, and a congregation of distorted frog-bodies.
My splotchy background reappeared in front of me, accompanied by a piece of chalk. This was beginning to look like commitment. My job now was to transfer the pencil distortions onto the painted surface. Chalk is a forgiving medium and I was content with the blurry white outlines on green.
But my task mistress wasn't. “Now you paint them, Meg.” I tried not to see painting as colouring in and to remember to hold my fine paintbrush side on: a darker green first, a bit of white for frog-forehead and frog-mouth, red for frog-eyes. A pause, and then a fiddle with yellow for frog-bellies. My mentor's comment? “You can only get better”!
When I returned home the strain showed. I was garaging the car, singing inanely “I'm a frog! I'm a frog! I'm a frog!” when I realised my next door neighbour was on the other side of the bushes.
As I reflected on my day, I was glad I'd been given frog as a subject. Now I have frogs on canvas, and their image can't be “truthed” because I never see them, although they've been in full voice in puddles and creeks as I walk around after rain.
And that was my first attempt at painting on canvas with acrylic. I'll take three weeks off now, to gather strength for the next phase.
restlessjo said:
The final result is cute and the pencil drawings are recognisable as frogs, Meg. Much more than I’d be able to accomplish 🙂 A stern task mistress obviously works for you!
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morselsandscraps said:
Ah yes, but she has to have charm too!
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Rosemary Barnard said:
Forget the paintings, the drawings are great. By the way, at her art school my mother had to do lots of drawings before she was allowed to paint. She too drew the same subjects over and over again and worked especially hard on hands. So there are some parallels with your struggles.
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Prue Neidorf said:
Meg, To me your frogs are singing back. By the time we get to the red eyes, they are definitely on song.
They might be shy about this, so I’d gently close the book for the next three weeks, and definitely keep up these forays (4AAAAZ) into the new to you world of artful art. xx Prue
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quollgirl said:
Your frogs look drunk.
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morselsandscraps said:
That’s what I felt like being by the end of the gruelling day of artistic effort! Loretta not only told me to paint, but directed me to photograph and blog my struggle. And I never see frogs, so I don’t know what they look like sober. By the way, witamy to my blogging world!
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Heyjude said:
I love your frogs!
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morselsandscraps said:
You’re very generous!
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