The funny thing about inspiration is that you have absolutely no control over it. You can have a multitude of great ideas in your head but there is no meaningful way to share them unless the moment strikes you. Over the past few weeks I have been unable to make any “good” art (this of course is a highly subjective statement, for who can truely say what makes art “good”). I’ve been stuck in that awkward in between period where my mind is flooded with obscure ideas but my eyes won’t visualize and my hands won’t materialize. It took another walk in the park to spark that undefinable inkling that it takes to make art. The bright yellow flowers that greeted me on my trek proved to be just the thing to shake my stubborn brain out of stagnation.
I had the thought the other night (at that most inconvenient time when you are about to fall asleep) that my artistic experience was sorely lacking still-lives. Now this is mostly because I hate them- but I decided (at that very late hour) that I should attempt one.
Now the official definition of a still life is a painting of carefully arranged objects, usually including fruit or flowers. I- having neither on hand at the time- decided to use some feathers, string and a nest decoration I had lying around .I set the scene and started to work. I used Windsor and Newton oils on gesso board. The next evening (I decided sleep was more important in that initial night) I finished the quick still life.I think my still-life-quota has been filled for at least a year.