Joy and Sorrow of Being a Prolific Painter in a Small Space

Interestingly my studio has all paintings that satisfy me and the rest of the house has more unfinished work that I  like seeing from many different angles and lighting before making changes.
I feel satisfaction and contentment and joy when I surround myself with work that satisfies me as comfortably completed. It need not be perfect. I like looking at work that over a long period time never says to me every time I walk by, "Psst, as soon as you have a moment, I need to be  touched up with a face lift. 

Being as prolific as I am, I  could quickly fill our home with art giving me the feeling that I am caught in an uncomfortable web. I  learned to withstand the sadness of destroying some of my work. 

Happy am I since I almost always keep space open.

To make space for both my husband and I to live comfortably, and welcome visitors, downsizing my collection of my own art is necessary even if it is like pulling teeth.  I go through my archives over and over again.

We need to keep space open for both of us to work and play. Conscious effort is made to display my art work,  improve storage. We keep only the stuff of everyday living that we need in addition to retiring some of my older work.  So various methods are helpful in reducing both excessive duplication in everything that surrounds us. Over the years I am always bagging stuff to donate. Many trips to the grocery store include dropping off a bag of donations. Last year I was lax and now I am back on track on donating.
Just working at  tackling  a little at a time giving me a feeling of accomplishment with each little step.  Happy am I that I have a few paintings that from the start all the variables fall in place.

Even if others do not like some of my alla prima paintings, they are among the ones that worked for me and I am fondest of them because I remember every time I look at them the experience of painting them.

Painted on a pea green background every color I put on was working with the whole right from the first stroke.  I kept the added patches of color open with the green threading through the entire painting.  Then just a few lines drawn  more from a muscle memory of a dance than thought out beforehand.  With the lines I decided the abstract was pulled together.

Hart Lake Creek  on a 1971 pack trip on our way to Lake Chelan, a sentimental painting! I treasure remembering our trips every time I look at these paintings. I do not care that some art critics would say this painting is two paintings, one being the tree trunks and the other being the creek.

 

I am a sentimentalist so my permanent collection is a diary of my life memories.