I'll Have a Chardon-hay

"I'll Have a Chardon-hay"

After painting a purple cow and then a blue cow, I ran across a photograph of this gorgeous blonde cow with the most interesting crooked horns.  I love the beauty of the unsymmetrical twists and sizes.   I was also drawn to the color.  It was a yummy caramel mixed in with a good dose of a color which reminded me of chardonnay--a nice, generous pour on a sunny day is always welcome.  

When I started this piece, my daughter asked me why I keep painting cows.  I'm wasn't sure other than the fact that I sold the blue cow and the purple cow is hanging in my kitchen. (My husband won't let me sell the purple cow!)  A few days later, I was writing my artist biography.  I am trying to find a sells rep for my giclee prints, so I am working on a packet of information.  Any way, I found myself, as many people do, starting with my roots.  Here is what I wrote:

"Tracie is a Texas artist who lives in Rhode Island.  She is a Seventh Generation Texan!  She primarily grew up in Lubbock, TX, located in the Texas panhandle.  Springtime was abundant with sand storms with skies hued by the native red dirt.  And, yes, there were tumbleweeds in the streets--at least my street, because we lived near a large open field.  Oil pump jacks lined the highways.  One of her major sensory memories of Lubbock is the stockyard aroma on hot days when the winds of the plains would swoosh it into the city.  Not the most pleasant smell, but definitely a memorable one!"

I guess that rich aroma of those West Texas stockyards had more impact on me than I realized.  The cow represents home to me. Skies that glide along forever.  Dust devils dancing in the fields. Soul shaking thunderstorms with lightening to rival any fireworks display. Cicadas' songs on a summer night. Red clay dusting my boots. (Yes, I even wore boots.  Pink ones, in fact.)

I know it is an overused cliche, but it rings true for my cows:  "You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can't take Texas out of the girl." Which is probably why my daughter calls me a "Yee-haw Momma."

King of the Sketch

I was recently with a 13 year old girl whom I love very much and admire tremendously.   She is shrouded in privacy, so I can't reveal who she is to me.  But I can say that she is an amazing artist who gets better by the minute, because she literally draws every second she possibly can.  I've seen her even use a scrap piece of paper and the bottom of her shoe as a drafting table.  Whenever something is in her head, she just has to get it out.  I wish I could show you one of her drawings, but she is extremely protective with them and only lets a lucky few see them.  I am one of the lucky ones who are blessed and inspired by her tenacious drawing produces.
On a recent trip home, I found myself with a ton of time to on my hands.  I watched her no-stop sketching and decided to pick up a pencil and pad myself.  I haven't sketched in several years, even though I have been painting.  It was so relaxing to watch the pencil move quickly but cautiously across the page.  Scribble here. Line there.  Should this be darker?  Does that look weird?  His nose is too long.  The shadow is wrong.  It was a process that took me right into the present.
I don't necessarily think this lion sketch is the greatest.  But it does represent a moment in time where I let loose for an hour and just let the lead flow.  I have found myself sketching a bit more---mostly basic apples, spheres, bowls of eggs--mainly to study the importance of lights and darks to apply to my painting.  You can't feel the depth of a pig's eye socket or the meaty nose of a cow without the highlights and the shadows.
I guess there is something to that theory in life: putting together our bright times and dark times to create a whole, solid life that looks like you could actually touch it.  Enjoy your moment: now.  www.TracieSeedArt.com