Tiny Paintings

Where to start or perhaps "How to Start"? It's a key question when one gets stuck. 2018 felt like a massive year of figuring out how to get myself unstuck. "Life changes on a dime" and so it did December 31, 2017 and then again when I took my faculty leave the following August. After the trauma of cancer subsided, our lives became parceled into two and then three week timeframes. As someone always looking years in advance and a planner besides, I did not know how to move.

One step, one breath at a time. Really this is what it takes: learning to focus on my breath, reaching out for support, rediscovering the beauty of moving, of walking the dogs, delighting in simple abundance, and giving structure to my creative time.

Normally my oil paintings are 3 feet x 4 feet or so. Each one takes at least a week to complete. Sufficient time must be given to partially dry a layer, then work into the oil, yet not so much that the painting is lost. Just one day away can ruin a painting. One of my sticking points has been figuring out how to keep painting despite the interruptions. 

As a partial step, I began a daily practice of drawing, small drawings of anything my eye rested on. One or two a day. Then I became intrigued and inspired by my friend Deb Hamby who is completing series of daily paintings on the theme of water. I realized I could complete paintings if they were much smaller than I usually worked, in a format I return to frequently—the square. A really small square, 6 inches x 6 inches small, Tiny Paintings.  Like my drawings, they could be about what I observe daily.

Small enough to fit in one's hand.

A week in, I'm having fun, I'm learning, making discoveries. How to tell a story in so little space? What techniques best fit a small canvas? Which brushes, palette knives, and reading glasses work best?! On my large paintings I often use a house painter's brush to start but not on these. Tiny one or two hair brushes for these. Undercoat or no? On larger paintings, I like to use washes but now surprising myself, I find I love to play with the thickness of the paint; much like clay, it can be molded to add depth and bring parts of the painting forward.

Beyond the technical, the other joy of these little works, is that they are tiny acts of daily gratitude. My gratitude for this lovely world, for the beauty of snow, of light, of sticks, and cold. Appreciation for the beauty of now. Appreciation for the breath: of letting go and letting in.

Water Under the Bridge, 6"x6,  oil on canvas

Cherry Tree in Winter, 6"x6", oil on canvas

When the Beech Leaves Fall,  6"x6", oil on canvas