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Splashy pineapples

Yesterday I had a crazy craving for pineapple. I bought whichever ones I could find…the sweet small Victoria pineapple from South Africa, the big fat watery one, produced in Costa Rica, coming from Miami???… and lastly the heavy, juicy one from the Ivory coast. Of course I had to paint them. My light pencil drawing was fine and I started putting in washes. Arriving at the spiky leaves, all went horribly wrong. And from there it on it was downhill all the way. Finally I threw the paintbrush out the door, flew out of my atelier, jammed a cup of coffee together, grabbed a canvas and plastered it with modeling paste and a painting knife. Halfway through the oil painting, and eventually simmered down, I turned to my watercolour and thought I might as well finish it by simply pulling out all the stops, I have nothing to lose. So here is the final messy watercolour….. the oil painting is still drying.

Watercolour on Fabriano artistico HP extra white block, 30,5×45,5cm (12″x18″)

Afterwards I even had some time to put a recipe together…and  eat it all. Interested in Pineapple carpaccio with saffron syrup and roasted pinenuts?

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Quietude with Rodin

When walking around in Paris the other day with a few hours on my hand to kill, I passed by the Museé Rodin and seeing I haven’t been for years, I thought a visit would be worth it.  After a while I felt the quiet and calm so inspiring that I only attempted 2 sketches. The rest of my time was spent just enjoying. The gardens are so beautiful and it is worth it to spend the entrance fee only for a coffee at the garden retaurant, walking the grounds, watching the gardeners fiddle in the beds and simply devoting yourself to the quietude on a garden bench . Sometimes being calm and serene in the presence of greatness teaches you loads more than being frantically busy absorbing!

I appreciate the quiet of art. It doesn’t have to boast, “turn up it’s volume”, or shout out its impact to attract attention, Good art just stands quietly on it’s own podium, much like Rodin’s sculptures. We have to only look at it closely to discover it’s hidden charisma and lively spirit.

The morning spent in the presence of Rodin inpired me to try some new directions one of which is sculpture…I was once(as a child..) VERY good at sandcastle building…even won a prize! Who knows, this might just be my real calling? But for now, here are my attempts at sketches of Rodin’s quiet, but magnificent sculptures…

Done in moleskine with pen.



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Luxembourg in Nina’s book

Our international sketchbook exchange is nearing its end with only two more laps to go. I hate endings…unless I know there is something new to fill its place. Any suggestions? Anyone out th..e..ere..???

Here is/was my contribution to Nina’s(Ninajohansen.se) book. See her Polychromatic behaviour, where you can have a look at her cover and how it looks right after turning over that cover. It feels like yesterday that our FPP(Flying pictures project) took off, but it has already been almost 5 months. I decided to add scenes from le  Jardin du Luxembourg in Nina’s book, a regular stop of mine to relax with a book whenever I’m in Paris. It’s one of my favourite places, with its colours, it’s water, its children, its sailboats, its shadows, and…its chairs. I’m fascinated by their chairs, standing in a “polychromatic” disorder all over. So I took my camera to Paris one day and just shot scenes all over the garden. Back home I printed them in black and white, pasted them onto Fabriano artistico and stretched the black and white scenes in colour over onto my paper. I thought that could be called polychromatic behaviour?

…the whole 21/2 pages…

…taking over from Vivien’s (Painting prints and stuff)brush and coloured pencils…

…close-ups…

…the end of my pages and off to Lindsay ( Non-linear-arts)…

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Children’s art for a celebration.

I am off to Toulouse for the weekend to celebrate 2 important occasions. Our eldest daugter’s birthday and the end of her architecture studies….well, not completely, but the most important project was presented today.

I am excited for her, stepping into a whole new adventure. No more the little girl, running barefoot, but a  soon to be working young woman(who promised to build our retirement home on the rocks, overlooking the ocean!). These  are some of the drawings from both girls’ barefoot years.

…This collage hangs in our home and I hung it years ago, when, as young parents, we had very little money. I bought a second hand frame for a few cents and fixed it at home.  It was our first “original painting”. And it still looks the same. These drawings are of their first recognizable drawings, don’t ask me when, I can’t remember…

…The next few drawings were done over the years..

…Liandri painted the fish when she was 14 years and we lived in Clemson, South Carolina…

…These last two were done by Marinell when she was 16 in SC…

 

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The red tulip

Like last year, this single red tulip once again made its appearance in my all white and blue  garden. And like last year, I accept it and welcome it. It has become quite a game and I’m amused by the tulip’s proudness and dedication to defeat me. It reminds me of a guy I once knew at university who wouldn’t give up either.

 

He was madly in love with me, completely, head over heels..and yes, he was sort of cute too, I thought at that stage. I was staying in a hostel for girls on campus, fourth floor out of six, overlooking beautifully tended campus gardens. And he was staying in a hostel for boys, way off, on the other side of the campus. That’s how it was those days. No men allowed in the girls’ hostels and vice versa, which made for very exciting experiences! Except of course, for visiting hours in the lounge downstairs.

Very regularly, he would show up at my hostel, long after visiting hours, on nights when the moon was showing off in the sky and the stars were sparkling impatiently with anticipation. With his guitar and a red rose and his best friend, I would be charmed with unashamedly beautiful love songs from the garden under my window. Their strong, deep melodious voices, trained from years of singing, had every girl hanging out their windows along with me, losing ourselves in the charm and romance of “old world courting” from down below.  Beautiful beautiful brown eyes, would always be on the list of songs and their voices would fade away in the distance with Goodnight ladies. My red rose, always stolen from an overflowing garden somewhere, would be left on the windowsill downstairs at the front door, for the hostel had already firmly been locked up for the night.

And so it happened that he got caught one night while stealing my red rose. He unfortunately chose the garden of the Professor of engineering, with whom he was very well acquainted…! He was allowed the rose, but had to work the Professor’s compost heap for two weekends. For a while, it was slow on the rose-serenading-scene and we all missed it..all the ladies, that is. Then one night there he was again, with a stolen red rose and guitar and his best friend. The cute guy I once knew. And who I still know. He is my husband.

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Painting: carrots in oil

I am trying to do a painting a weekagain. Completed this painting today, a rainy day outside and nice and friendly in front of the fire. I can feel I’m rusty working on a painting. Very impatient and hurried. But I am gliding back into working mode again and inspiration is beginning to open its eyelids, albeit slowly.

Oil on canvas, 30x 25cm