A memory of how something or someone looks can be inaccurate, and so very stubborn. Maybe I keep that 'edited' memory for sentimental reasons, or maybe the memory is a composite of multiple exposures to or interactions with what is visualized, or maybe memories can come from first impressions. Whatever the reason, it shows up in my art. This is not to say that's a bad thing, in fact it's probably what makes every artist's work unique. This is only to say that a stubborn memory can be problematic at times.

I've been trying to paint water lilies with watercolor this week. As I've move through my varied renditions I noticed some key problems. Not in the colors, or the brush load, or the paper. They aren't even in my ability to create imagery of petals or lily pads. 

You should know I have been using a reference photo... several in fact. The flowers I have been trying to represent aren't only in the misty recesses of my mind, filed with sweet memories of summer visits to the water lily ponds of Longwood Gardens, Pennsylvania. I had pictures... many many pictures. My husband and I took dozens of photos, giving cover to the other as they lay flat on the sidewalk to capture the sun illuminating the pale pink petals, or hang ten at the edge of the pool to shoot down to snap shimmery reflections of blooms atop stems skimming the surface of motionless water. 

It was somewhere around the fifth iteration when I noticed my orientation was confused. The flowers had been painted as if I was peering eye level across the water at the spiky bowls of color. Meanwhile, the lily pads beside them looked like they'd been painted from overhead. Okay. Now we were getting somewhere I thought, providing the encouragement to try again.

The next was better, yet something still wasn't working. The petals seemed off kilter. After staring back and forth between my photo to my painting to my photo in vain, I walked away. When I returned with fresher eyes my expectations were revealed! I'd been anticipating the blooms to look like the lotus flower held in my mind. It was a side view, as if often seen on yoga posters or mindfulness memes. The flower in my photo was nothing at all like my automatic association with "lotus" although, by definition, they are the same flower. My perception was tilted. I'd been seeing, but not really accepting, the actual shape of the flower.

These competing images were disorienting to me and my painting. I couldn't see the flower the way it was. It was a bias, actually. Bias is usually considered as a societal issue, or a researcher's worst nightmare, but I'd never thought about it as a stumbling block in art. I took a new approach. Pulling out paper and pencil, which feel quite uncomfortable in many ways, but are much more solid and seem to require intentionality. I tried to study my photo gain, but this time with fresh perspective. Finding the shapes, proportions, and shadows, I scratched them out slowly, one petal at a time. I wanted to get to know the flower better. How are the petals related to the center? Are they all the same length? What is it's anatomy? I laughed out loud to realize what was tripping me up was me, and I continued to fill page after page with water lilies! Finally, having let go of the unconscious insistence that a water lily always looks a specific way in spite of photo evidence to the contrary, it was finally possible for me to more closely represent one on paper. It wasn't perfect or very artistic, but it's more accurate. My painting is still not 'there' yet, but it is getting closer.

Seeing first hand how my inability to represent this bloom was caused by a rigid impression was very powerful and, because I have a tendency to over think things, I wondered where else bias was influencing my perception and judgement. Maybe I don't know my own biases as well as I thought I did. How often do my perceptions masquerade as what is?

​Art has a way of shining light into shadows I didn't even know were there.

bias (v.)
"giving a bias to, causing to incline to one side," 1610s literal; 1620s figurative; from bias (n.). Compare French biasier. Related: Biased; biasing. https://www.etymonline.com/word/bias

August 23, 2019. 10pm.

​My morning practice doesn't just happen. It has to be prepared... a way must be made.

Tomorrow morning when I awaken there will be fresh paper, clean water and brushes, and six brand new colors waiting to strut their stuff carefully arranged in my studio. I'm not even sure I'll be able to sleep knowing what's waiting there

Everything changes in a sometimes sneaky way.
My mother used to lay out my clothes.
Now, I lay out my paints and think of her.
This life is new, even as it grows old.

Days before my husband and I moved more than one thousand miles away to south Georgia, leaving our young adult sons to hold down the fort in Pennsylvania and step into their lives, my Mom scolded Dad for warning me I would not even believe how much I was going to miss them. 

"Don't tell her THAT," Mom said, giving him a look that stopped him flat. "You know," she turned to me. knowing full well what it felt like to be far away from your own children, "Everyone said I was going to be miserable in an empty nest," She paused, smirked and patted my hand. "I'm still waiting."

​We all laughed and although my dad looked shocked, I felt so comforted by her confession. The truth of the matter was I was kind of looking forward to discovering who we all are on our own, to watching our sons blossom as we got out of their way and they learned to take care of their own lives, and to seeing who I am without my hallmark kneejerk caretaking and constant planning. It was not an easy adjustment, but it was necessary.

Yes, I miss my boys so much it hurts. I can feel it deep inside.

But, that's not all there is. Surprisingly, I am also not miserable. Mostly.
​There is joy. Often.

It makes me happy that Mom had time to discover things she wanted to do and then do them - to travel with Dad - to meet new friends - and especially, to develop her art. At times I mourn the fact that I never really discovered watercolor while she was still here to share it with me.  I could have learned so much from her. 

But that's not all there is. Surprisingly I am, in many ways, meeting my mother for the first time in the paints. This is such a gift. 

Good night. Sleep tight. I will try to stay in bed 'til the morning light... but oh those paints are already giggling in the pallet.

9.30.2019 MONDAY FAC ​ - 10.4.2019 FRIDAY
​I was going to say I didn't manage to  meet any of my intentions. I could neither find or remember my Monday intention, either... but I went searching.... and there it was: I intend to view the Fall Foliage videos (a la Angela Fehr) and work up a new version of Three Brothers, my tree friends from home. So, I half did it. I did not watch the videos because I got distracted by getting the entries ready for a show in November... but I did work up Three Brothers again, and I really like it. :)

I've recently joined the Fearless Artist Community for watercolor artists under the guidance of heart led watercolorist Angela Fehr. Angela's stated vision is to empower watercolor artists to become their own favorite artists by learning how to lead with their own hearts. She invites us to set weekly intentions on Mondays, and offer up reflections on how we did with them on Fridays. ​This is a record of those intentions (FAC), and any others that come up along the way. I realize these intentions are probably only of interest to me, but this seemed like a good place to keep track.