Step 16. Benched

I had an art lesson with Matisse last week. I noticed a Matisse painting in front of a bench on my last visit to the Met, so he was my teacher that day.

I started my sketch with the hair because the shape was simple to copy. As I moved on to the robe, arms, and shoes, I realized everything was a shape. I guess that's a basic thing to know, but it took drawing it for me to get it. I saw a triangle here, a rectangle there. Drawing the outline was like fitting puzzle pieces together. My sketch didn't match Matisse's perfectly, but then again, I'm not Matisse. I'm a student learning from the master.

In the end, I could finally make out the black outline of the chair. Matisse's background is black, and I didn't notice the woodwork on the chair until after I looked at the painting for a long time. The label next to the painting says that Matisse was intrigued by using black as a color. That's a lesson I'll learn another time. This lesson was about seeing shapes.

Julia Cameron writes in The Artist's Way, "Art is not about thinking something up. It is about the opposite - getting something down....We're not doing; we're getting....Instead of reaching for inventions, we are engaged in listening." I thought about that quote as I made the contour drawing. I felt like the lesson of shapes was falling right into my lap. All I had to do was be there to catch it.

I also thought about the saying that a teacher will appear when the student is ready. I won't complain when the teacher who appears is Matisse, even if he appears because I was ready for a bench to sit on. Maybe I'll create my own course called Masters at the Met by Benches, followed by Great Artwork Close to the Restroom.

Laurette in a Green Robe, Black Background by Matisse, 1916. Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC.

Step 13. Sketch

My Artist Date was back at the Met this week. I went to the Jewels by JAR exhibit. The guard said, "No photography allowed," but I didn't mind because I was there to sketch.

My expectations and interest in the show were low, to be honest, and I went only because I wanted to try something new for me at the Met. In the end, the show did disappoint me, but some pieces absolutely appealed to me.

And speaking of a peel, this piece was my favorite. 

The orange part of the peel is made of garnets. It sparkles like crazy and the colors are gorgeous. The white part of the peel, in between the orange strips, is enamel. The orange blossoms are diamond-encrusted. But it's not the gems that attracted me as much as the shape and color, and most especially, the attention to the beauty of an orange peel and blossoms.

The artist, JAR, has many pieces based on plants and flowers, and I loved every single one of them. I liked them because they were not simply generic "flower motifs," but looked like botanical studies in gemstone. Botanical studies are what I love best, no matter what the material used. 

I only wish there was some information about his attraction to the natural world and the inspiration it gives him. There was no information provided, and that is a big disservice to the audience, and frankly, super lame for a museum show. 

I wasn't interested in his pieces that were "regular" jewelry designs, and I didn't care for his animal pieces, but the plant-inspired pieces made for a sweet Artist Date.

Step 6: Go on a date

I went on a date today. I was looking forward to it for over a week, and it was as good as I expected it to be.

If you've read The Artist's Way like I'm reading it right now, you'll know what I mean by Artist Date. The date is a weekly outing you take by yourself to be inspired, to have fun, to get a change of scenery, to recharge. This week I picked the Knit, Purl, Sow exhibition at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens.

I was smitten, sight-unseen, when I first heard about the show, and going to see it in person was the perfect way to treat myself to a date. The art pieces were larger-than-life botanicals made out of knitting. Seriously. How cool is that?

After walking through the exhibit, I sat down and sketched some of the pieces in my tiny sketchbook I bought especially to use on Artist Dates so I could remember them later when my spirit needs a pick-me-up.

An elderly man sat on the bench next to me and we had a conversation. At one point, he leaned closer to me and asked if I was a knitter. I told him no. "I like to draw," I said. "You do?!" he said in surprise and pulled back up straight. I was drawing the whole time we talked, but I guess some people don't pay that much attention to what's right in front of them.

As he left, I said, "Have a good day," and he said, "How could I not? Every day you're alive is a good day."

I've had a bunch of bad days in recent months, and the man's comments reminded me that I'm set out to have as many good days as I can bank. You've got to store up the good ones to see you through the bad ones, I've learned. But sometimes you don't get an entire day that you'd count as good, so I'm learning to pay more attention to the good moments, even if they last just a minute. Sitting on a bench in a gallery sketching knitted renditions of giant flowers talking to an old man about how he takes his wife to art exhibits counted for a few good moments.

Later, at home, I received bad news in an email that hurt my heart. There's no script to follow, as someone reminded me recently, when you receive bad news. You're on your own.

I picked up my little sketchbook and colored pencils, and I filled in the outlines like a little girl with a coloring book. I colored until my whole universe was on that page and I could live there.

I don't want to show up empty-handed, even on a notebook page. Especially on a notebook page. I need to bring something to it, give myself, and that's where living a life comes in handy. What happens in life goes through my soul and ends up, somehow in some way, on the page. Good or bad, like it or not, that's where I am.

Tonight I went to a book club meeting up the street. I brought salad, friends brought wine and cookies and cheese and crackers, and the host made chicken with cream, mushrooms, and noodles. Now that I'm home again, I will read some, draw some if I'm not too tired, pray, and then I will go to sleep with a cat or two next to me and with my notebook set up for early morning writing.

I'm alive and on the page, and that, I know, means it was a good day.

Step 1. Take two steps forward, one step back. Repeat.

It's never too late to start over. Thank goodness. That's what I'm doing here, starting over.

 

I originally started this blog (twice if we're counting) as an online nature journal. That's cool. I'm still into it.

I'm reading The Artist Way by Julia Cameron (for the third time, if we're counting). Each time I've read the book in the past, I got stuck in a different place. 

Since I'm stuck with my progress on this blog as well, I figure I'd stick the two stuck pieces together and see what happens. I would love to have you join me along the way.

As I blog today, "two steps foward" reminds me of this song.