When will I know...

...when I am good enough?

I am going through a frenzy of painting over old canvases. Not much is safe and paintings I once adored are rapidly disappearing under a thick blanket of gesso as I wonder how I ever thought they were worth hanging on a wall.

Will the pieces I created fresh this week meet the same fate this time next year? Will I ever be satisfied?

Mind you, didn't many of the great Masters do the same thing? Aren't there instances of restorers finding older paintings hiding underneath those prized today? I wonder what lies beneath the Mona Lisa? I think it might be something saucy - which possibly accounts for that enigmatic expression she's been wearing for the last five centuries or so.

Maybe one day the experts will apply the digital thermal x-ray techno wotsits and see the large eye that resides beneath this mermaid. I'm pretty certain there's something else below that one too!

If you own a masterpiece and another is found underneath, does that make it twice as valuable? Imagine rubbing off Venus because you preferred the 'still life with old shoe' underneath! I wonder if there is a law against such things?

I am starting to talk nonsense now! You should really read yesterday's post where my philosophising was of a more intellectual nature - and I won't be painting over the art I share there either anytime soon (particularly as I no longer own it)!

It seems appropriate that this piece I am sharing for Paint Party Friday this week is very much a work in progress and, given the number of paintings underneath her, I assume she will remain so for many years to come!

Tune in next week for the next version!

Postscript: Carol just left me a comment mentioning the male figure behind the siren. Well, I thought for a moment she was seeing things, for I never painted a male figure. But then I looked again... and what do you know... there he is! How spooky is that?!! Thanks Carol. Namaste!

I'm a girl of many layers

Twice in the last week or so I've been asked what inspires me, so if anything called for a blog post and piece of art then this was it.

This piece is probably somewhere over the Atlantic right now. She resides in an artistic collaboration, a round robin of art journals travelling from one side of the ocean to another. Eight artists each adding their own part to the story. Steph asked that we share what gave heat to our inspirational flame. For me it's layers and words and the feminine and eyes and story and pattern and experimentation... and well, you name it, sometimes it's there!

There's something very special about painting over layers. It's like you're building a secret history for your painting. There are stories from the past that only the two of you have read, but if the observer looks closely enough they might find clues in the tiny elements that remain.

Layers are whispers and hints, they add texture and interest, they cover up the pieces we wish to hide from others, but are still intrinsically a part of us.

Somewhere in this post I stopped talking about art and moved onto myself... There are many layers to peel away today. Some are pretty and sparkling but others stick like glue and weigh me down with their tight weave of negativity. I keep reminding myself to believe in myself and my goals, to keep on doing ...

Oops! I nearly forgot. This post is also for Artists' Playroom and the prompt "What inspires you?"

"But I'm not creative..."

I've got news for you!

 

Yes you are!

 

Everyone is creative and I have a day of activity to release your creative tension. Have fun with like-minded souls getting stuck into art and collage.

 

Great Expectations

Pip outside Satis House when Miss Havisham was in residence

When I was a child, my parents took me around a good many stately homes. Now, some children might find this a little on the tedious side - looking at a load of dusty old vases and portraits of the gentry in their best clothes. I on the other hand took each visit as an opportunity to disappear. Not out of sight of my parents (for that would have caused much angst and time spent on the naughty step).

No, with a suitably grandiose backdrop in place, I would lift the rope and climb into the realm of the imagination.

I would chase the ghosts up the back stairs and in and out of the bedrooms, explore the secret passageways and discover the treasure hidden by the family when the house was invaded by a secret Spanish force back in the days of good Queen Bess.

As I got older, there was a noticeable shift in fanciful daydream.... Then I would become the beauty of the house dressed in ballgown and elegantly sashaying down the grand staircase with my skirts sweeping behind me. Would the handsome hero waiting at the bottom notice me? You bet he would. Taking my hand, he would lead me into the dancing, gazing longingly into my eyes...

Another time, he may just happen to find me seated in the Elizabethan garden or once again visiting my childhood den beneath the weeping beeches... In the verdant seclusion he would fall under my spell....

Ah yes, I do love a good stately home. Yesterday I went to this one where the spirit of Miss Havisham lingers... although it looks a little more cared for these days!

 

Holdenby House, present day (no jilted brides to be seen - though you can get married here!)

 

Alas it was a little hard to immerse myself in fantasy land given that there were hundreds of people thronging the place visiting the Northamptonshire Food Festival. I had to swipe this photo from Google as the drive was chock-a-block with stalls selling chutneys and cheeses!

Seriously, how is a girl supposed to conjure up Mr Darcy with half the county there peddling sausages? Poor King Charles I was turning in his grave... (he spent five months in captivity here before Cromwell chopped his head off).

Who are these mysterious and shadowy figures in the Elizabethan garden?

Have you got your Moyo?

I'm going to write some posts about other people for a change. Especially those that inspire me.

To start this one off though, I do have to talk about me! It almost warrants a whole other post, so I'll try and keep it brief - but I have to tell you that I LOVE being an entrepreneur!

It's about freedom and the same time control. It's knowing that for every ounce of effort you put in, you're getting something personally out of it. It's the thrill of chase, the magic of adventure and the thrill of the unknown.

Don't get me wrong though, it's darn hard too. It's long hours, self-doubt, financial insecurity and tough decision-making to name but a few. And when, like me, you're a business of ONE, then it can be a bit lonely too. When there are choices to be made, you don't have a team around you to share opinion.

It's why I join Entrepreneur networks, devour business books and follow the goings on of those who inspire me - my entrepreneurial heroes whose determination to succeed, drive and creativity lift me from those moments when I fear I can't achieve.

Beth Nicholls and Rachael Taylor are two such ladies. I first came across Beth when she ran the Do What You Love retreat last May and I met Rachael there. Since then between them these ladies have run numerous successful online courses (sometimes together), collaborated with more of my heroes (Kelly Rae Roberts), moved to Japan (Beth), appeared in books, won awards, appeared in magazines, been interviewed here there and everywhere, given lectures and generally been a guiding light of entrepreneurial inspiration for those that believe that you really can do what you love for life and for your living.

And now... they have launched a new magazine that is quite possibly the most beautiful I have ever seen!

Read more about Beth here

Read more about Rachel here

Read Moyo right here!

Open publication - Free publishing - More color

Fortune favours

Gypsy Rose sees everything in the leaves. She listens to the changes of the seasons and hears the whispers of secrets that travel on moonbeams.

In the light of a dancing fire she'll predict your future, but are you sure you want to hear?

Gypsy Rose is herself a reincarnation. Shadows of her former self remain as layers beneath her piercing gaze.

Be wary of falling under her spell!

Gypsy Rose will be at Paint Party Friday in a few hours. She sits in her tent waiting to share her stories. It's up to you if you believe...

Rose is a mixed media painting and collage. She is indeed a lady of layers with the ghost of an older painting underneath too. She has much to tell - providing you grace her palm with silver first.

Would you like Gypsy Rose to share her stories with you?

"Imagination will often carry us to worlds that never were. But without it we go nowhere."

Carl Sagan

What's a Stook?

Today I thought I'd created a new word. I was very pleased with myself in an intellectual kind of way. It amused the left half of my brain to think in terms of dictionaries and alphabets.
It all came about from a simple typo (of which word, I'm afraid I forget). Anyway, Bill Gates drew his squiggly red line under my word informing me I was a spelling numpty. However, before I corrected, I stopped and stared. For was this not a great-sounding word? Did it not conjure up images of West African birds with enormous iridescent wingspans or mysterious doppelganger spirits that feed on the souls of those they resemble?
Sadly it turns out that a stook is already a word. There's a picture of one at the top of this post. Some kind of sheaf of hay.. Hang on though... there's more than one, and they are identical And, if it was black it might look a bit like a Dementor from Harry Potter. Watch out! It's after your soul....

stook (stook) Pronunciation: /stʊk, stuːk/

British

Definition of stook

noun

• a group of sheaves of grain stood on end in a field.