Still making a comeback.

For a few weeks now, I have been mostly engulfing myself in stillness.
Still life stillness.
Twenty years ago in high school I hated still life! Hated, Hated, Hated it.
Oh I hated it so much.
And charcoal still life was all we did for my entire 1st semester art; also, we were not allowed to have an eraser for the semester either (but that's a different blog writing to come later). Oh and I guess I also did a charcoal self-portrait. But anyways,
Sooooooooooooooooooo boooooooooooooooooring.
Cans, bottles, fruit and antlers (yes antlers....always antlers, it was a ranch town) sitting staged, place on a sheet with a light shining directly on it. Seriously?
Sooooooooooooooooooo boooooooooooooooooring.
I really thought I'd be making my master piece back then during my very first semester, because when you are an adolescent art student not only do you believe you are the next Picasso or Van Gogh, but you also create your master piece with little training and practice and very quickly, like by end of 4th period quickly. My master piece making self back then, did not appreciate that the still life studies are quite important in developing skill, patience, and experimentation. My master piece self did not realize that all good things take time, lots of dedication, practice, failure, and eventually a comeback.

Well, it's been a long time and the 90's are coming back! Antlers and all!
We got: No Doubt reunion, crop tops, High waist-low flare jeans, Birkenstocks (my personal fav) and a Point Blank remake for starters.
Hell, Bill Clinton might even be coming back to Washington.
Oh, and Still life (well, for me anyway)

Here are a few more of my stills from the comeback art class I'm taking and my practice.

Little Cuties (2016)

Oil on clayboard 6x6

Place a Bid

Still #Two (2016)

Oil on canvas board 20x24

Chatty Lemons (2016)

Oil on clayboard 6x6

In the words & wisdom of the great LL Cool J: 

"Don't call it a comeback. I been here for years." 

-Cheree 

Never say Later, Procrastinate Now

Back in November I signed up for some drop in art classes. These classes are taught by local professional artists and I have found them to be very relaxing, informative and quite beneficial. The class I signed up for is about using color, value and temperature in your paintings and we are painting different still life set ups.

I must admit that I am a VERY last minute kind of person. And even though I signed up for this drop in art class in November, I did not even look at the material supply list until the night before the class. (I don't recommend waiting this long to have your supplies ready).
This is when I noticed that on the very top of the supply list IN ALL CAPS it said:
OIL PAINT ONLY
Oh crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! I don't even own oil paint. Why didn't I look at this sooner?
I don't paint in oils because I have 2 small curious children, and oils are messy, smelly and well....oily. The solvents are sometimes toxic, plus they take weeks to dry. WEEKS!
Also, I was saving my oil paintings for later, much, much later, like my retirement; when painting in 900 square feet with poor ventilation and getting high on paint fumes won't make any difference.

Anyhow, since it looks like I (and most of my generation) will not have any social security to retire on, and therefore I will most likely die in front of my computer typing out a email to a surgeon, who most likely won't read it and then email me later asking for the information in the email I just sent them?!?!?!?..., I might as well bite the bullet and buy some oil paints ASAP and start now.

Still Life #One (2016)

Oil on canvas board 20x24

I should admit that I am head over heels in love with my oil paints and I'm not just saying that because I've been painting all morning with the windows closed.
I am glad I never read that class list early!
I take it all back, I would absolutely recommend this type of procrastination. It seems this is the key to great discovery.
Here's to making later, now & to my early retirement!
-Cheree

Fast sleds, Smiles wide, Laughing loud, forever.

Two years ago today, my cousin passed away.

It is still very hard for me to type this and fathom it all. 

It Still, 2 years later, does not feel real. 

It still feels like he will just crawl out from under the Thanksgiving table and sit down next to me to pass the potatoes.

When we were kids my brother and I could not wait for our Denver cousins to arrive for holy hell playtime. It was with my brother and my cousins that I could truly be myself. They were and remain to this day, my best friends. We were uninhibited to let our imaginations run wild (as well as our endless energy) and we had the parents to let us, as they were just to damn tired to control us after months spent apart. 

Our favorite activity of all time: 

Sledding. 

Winter sledding was fun, but not nearly as fun as stair sledding down our grandma and grandpa's old stair case. When we would stairway sled we would line the entire stair case with a fleece, wool, satiny blend blanket to provide good speed (these thin blanket blends work the best. If they are the kind that can repel water and are most likely flammable, you know they are going to be fast). We then would wrap ourselves into other blankets as tight as we could and down we'd go..................

Wait!!! STop!!! Wait!!!

I forgot the most important rule: NEVER, NEVER, NEVER sled into the door at the bottom. You must stop the blanket sleds before the bottom, because that's when one of the adult males would come and project their authority on the shenanigans taking place. 

It was however, inevitable, that on one fast sled ride, the four of us would sled into the door and with this a large explosion would sound and four very loudly laughing children would rocket out the stairway door.
(This is the closest picture I found that resembles our stairway sledding).

We have a bond, the four of us. 

We have a bond that won't ever be broken. 

Little Sled Hill (2016)

Acrylic on canvas panel 8x8

Sledding will do that to kids, bond them for life. The excitement, the danger, the thrill.....

The joy of the wild rambunctious ride. Fast Sleds, Smiles Wide, Laughter Loud. 

Forever.  

-Cheree 

I told this story at my cousin's service. It is my most favorite time in all of my childhood. It's how I remember him.

Owl see what I see.

When I make abstracts it goes a little something like this: 

I take a picture of our Christmas tree close up (actually, I had the peacock take my picture because he takes better shots than I do) and then I turn the picture upside down.

Then I paint that. 

This is obviously a close up of our pink owl ornament.....

Too Close Owl (2015)

Acrylic on canvas panel 6x6

Either that, or it could be tits. 

We all interpret art in our own way. 

-Cheree 

An American in Paris

They say Paris is the city of Love...........

Well, the day we went to the Eiffel Tower for the first time, our family was not in love with each other. We were at each other's throats.
It was hot.
We were all hungry.
It was hot. There were crowds and the crowds were massive....I hate, hate, hate crowds. Especially when it's hot.
The 8 year old was upset that the tour bus was not an open top, but just a regular bus (Hell, I didn't know this when I booked the tour).
The goldfish wanted to roam free without restriction and didn't want to ride in the carrier (crowds don't seem to deter her in any way of what she plans to be doing).
The peacock was mad at all of us for whining and being so dysfunctional. (The following day he discovered the word "Hangry" while over hearing this group of ladies gossiping at the park....and then the day all made sense to him, but I digress)
IT WAS HOT!!!!!!

Thank God for the amazingly engineered fountain (this was all the peacock could talk about for days afterward) across the way from the Eiffel tower (Way to go Paris!) and the crepe cart.
And Thank God for the Eiffel tower at night (when it's not hot)
I'm in Love.

Night walk in Paris (2015)

Acrylic on Clayboard with 2 inch profile sides

Let's put the children on the next open top bus tour with some crepes and book it back to the hotel. 

-Cheree 

What's on your shelf

I must admit I painted this, and I'm at a loss for words with how to speak to it. I feel it speaks for itself. 

Here's the background story of why I painted this portrait. 

It began as a challenge from the peacock. 

He texted me this crazy picture of Trump and said

"I know it's not pretty, but I think you should paint this. It's just so crazy." 

So, I gave it a try. 

And it worked out, so I decided that the most fitting attire for Donald Trump by far would be an Elf on the Shelf suit. We call our's 

"Ass on a Shelf." (2015)

Acrylic on canvas panel 16x8

Every night he reports to himself and informs of who should be deported and who's fired. 

-Cheree 

International Trade Agreements

I grew up in a very small town and a wee bit redneck. This is by no means negative, but Jeff Foxworthy jokes make sense to me; either from personal experience or knowing someone with that experience. I find these jokes quite funny.
Well, I got a new one for Mr. Foxworthy.
A true story.
Gunnison is often the coldest spot in the nation and requires for most of us, a wood burning stove.
Well, a wood burning stove requires wood.....lots of it, (winter is really long and really frickin cold). So, every year we would head up into the mountains and gather wood in our old red 1970's International. Let me just say, this truck was a piece, but it mediocrely did it's job every year......very slowly, slowly, slowly, like a sloth. A slow, red, old, 8 track playing sloth, driving at 15mph up into the mountains, getting passed by winter turtles and 90 year old grannies doing cartwheels in snowshoes. (If you think this truck sounds cool.....you might be a hipster). 

To further paint the utter joy of the wood gathering ceremony, gathering wood is a lot of painful, time consuming work. (You'll definitely need to bring your Cooler along to keep mentally sane). It involves an entire day in the mountains cutting, hauling and stacking wood. You might think, Oh that sounds so nice to be in the mountains all day. NO, you're wrong. You get muddy, angry, sweaty, pissed off, sore, with splinters in your face and sometimes a black eye. This experience is why I don't do Crossfit. In fact, Crossfit should just go get my Dad's wood every year and then stack it up for him for the next 3 days.
Win-Win.

Anyways, one year, The International just had enough work and it just refused to go. It wanted to kick back in the garage, hang out with the dead elk heads (let's get real, who doesn't)  But, well, we still needed wood for the winter.
Therefore, my Dad decided it was time.

Wood Haul (2015)

Acrylic on canvas panel 6x12

If you trade your truck for a winter's load of wood.....
You might be a redneck."
-Cheree