I seem to have finally broken in my studio. Where once there were empty spaces, now there are stacks of canvases in various stages of progress and finish. Portraits, landscapes, still lives, street scenes peering out from various corners; it's starting to feel as though I'm a painter again. Part of me is frustrated that it's taken me this long; I'm eight days shy of being in Boston for a full year. But, to be fair to myself, there has been so very much contained in that year: I started a new life in an unfamiliar city, I moved three times, started three new jobs, climbed mountains, swam in the ocean, lost loved ones, found loved ones, travelled, spent time catching up with old friends, made new ones. It's somewhat amazing I've gotten any work done at all. In the year I spent without a studio, I found endless ways to fake it. I came across some photographs of my various "studios"--but I think, perhaps, that should be a separate post. So, to the meat of it: a sampling of various works now inhabiting my work space.
Pennsylvania Sunset, 30x22", oil on linen
(they always look more impressive framed)
Flower stall, Toulouse... oil on panel is growing on me
Street performer, Albi--one of many studies of the subject, hopefully leading somewhere (oil on panel)
Still life with violin? Okay, the working title is a bit dull. (more panel painting)
(my favorite bit, though I'm told that's terribly obvious from looking at the whole)
And what's a post without a Sebbie?
And just to prove I haven't given up on my quest to paint children's portraits well... I continue with my studies.
