A Diversion

The finished product.

I've been going through an artists' slump. Just not inspired. Being someone who doesn't like being idle I realized that I now had the time to finish a long, put off project to paint a "headboard" for the second guest bedroom.

Inspiration image.

The "guest" who would most likely be occupying that room is the indomitable Charlotte, my granddaughter. As a matter of fact, even if I hadn't yet determined that it would be her room there was little chance it could belong to anyone else. She has claimed it, loudly and definitively. She is two and a half years old after all.

Like many of my home improvement projects, this one came as a result of the previous one, revamping a dark, nasty basement that had sprung a leak. I turned that into a bright and (hopefully) childproof playroom; to accomplish that, I'd poached the small sectional that used to be in Charlotte's room, leaving her with pretty much nothing except her Pack 'n Play. Having spent enough money on the basement I looked for ways to save on the guest room and came up with a painted headboard...like painted on the wall headboard.

There was a ton of inspiration on the internet, but I got mine from a Ballard Design catalog. The clipping sat around in Charlotte's room while I put off the project. She saw it and claimed it as hers too. Well, I guess it was.

I have done other murals in the past, so kind of knew the ropes, but learned some new ropes too on this project, they are:

Chalk was my friend.

• Chalk is a great thing to mark out your design! How did I ever do those things before without it?

• A level saves you a lot of grief. I have a good one that I love. Might request that it enter the crematorium with me at my demise.

• Double the time you think it will take. Yup.

• Don't trust drop cloths. I put my water, paints and brushes on a tray. No chance, well, maybe a small chance of disaster on the white carpet.

• Take pictures of the work as you go. Helps to see what's wrong and lets you write a blog post about painters block!

Charlotte hasn't seen her room all finished yet. Since she's already the proud owner I suspect she won't be particularly wowed but at least I filled a couple of days with a worthwhile endeavor. If you're interested in knowing how I did this I've created a crib sheet. Please feel free to email me with questions if you get stumped!

Step-by-step Instructions: Making a Headboard With Paint (And Without Wood)

A Ridiculously Long Time

People often ask how long it takes me to complete a painting. Not having a ready answer I decided to do a little digging and find that I'm astounded at the range. Depending on the size and complexity of the work I've completed paintings in as little as less than three hours to what amounts to as long as 16 eight-hour days of work. Since I average about two and a half hours per sitting, that would mean nearly two months soup to nuts!

All this calculating confirms what I already know, I'm slow.

I just finished a seemingly simple, albeit large (24" x 48"), painting that has taken me now more than three years to finish! I worked on it back in 2015 for a little over a month. I liked it, didn't love it. It just didn't sing, and so it sat propped up on a table in my studio, a nagging reminder of the zing of inspiration and the fizzle of stagnation. 

Clark © Lissa Banks 2018

Twenty-five paintings have intervened. Last week I had enough of looking at my failure and dug back in with abandon. Not sure it was the skills honed from those past few paintings and the increasingly ease I've found in a looser style but I set upon the painting with a devil may care attitude.

The result (after a few short hours of work) is definitely a departure from my recent paintings but I love the freshness. That's what I loved about the image to begin with and I think I've achieved it here.

I invite you to visit my website where you can sign up to receive now and again emails that will keep you up to date with where I’m showing, when I post these musings, and when I am offering special sales and promotions! My site is secure and I PROMISE never to sell your information.

  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings to learn how to purchase an original. You can purchase prints for sale at  FineArtAmerica.com.

SaveSave

All Mixed Up

When last I wrote I was in the throes of an artist's block. Yes, that damn petal was driving me to blog. And in the end the blog turned out to be about letting go of expectations.

I'm not sure how I did it, but I nailed the hurdle (you'll tell me if I didn't) and finally finished the tetraptych or quadriptych, which according to Wikipedia are interchangeably used for a four-panel piece such as this. I vacillate between the two depending on which word I can remember to spell at the moment...but I digress.

Family ©  Lissa Banks

Many years ago I moved from east to west to live close to my parents after a marriage, a divorce, numerous jobs, cats, dogs, and three children away. I was there to say goodbye to my father and to meet my mother as a whole human being for the first time in my life. She turned out to be an amalgam of strength and fear, hilarity and timidity, love and bitterness. And she had the softest hands I've ever been graced to have held. She was a difficult woman to be sure: insecure, needy and demanding but loving and devoted. She blesses and tortures me still. Even last night she came to me in a nightmare of sorts!

My first post about this four-in-one painting was how they had come to represent my three sisters and me. Each unique and yet cut from the same cloth. I had expected that's how I'd end up thinking about them in the end. But as usual, I didn't. Not exactly, that is. Expectations dashed once again.

In the end I couldn't put them back into place, I preferred to see them all mixed up. They shine in this way, I think. It causes me, at least, to look at them in a different way.

So maybe they do tell the tale of my sisters and me after all. Maybe I'm looking at us all in new ways now as we are all now solidly in the autumn of our lives... in the same way I had the privilege of looking at my mother in the years before she died. She's in there among the petals, you know, especially the difficult ones, the ones I needed to perfect, most likely just for her.



  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings to learn how to purchase an original, a print or to commission a painting...or find me on Pinterest. Or you can find this and other this and other prints for sale at FineArtAmerica.com.

Roots

Despite the snow falling outside on this blizzardy day, I'm thinking back to trips I took with my dad to the garden store; him passionate about plants and gardening, me loving sunshine, mud, worms and such. We would return home with flats of annuals and bags of cow manure and my dad would fill pots with petunias and geraniums. The station wagon would stink for days.

Red Geranium © Lissa Banks 2016

I remember my otherwise upright, Republican, pillar of the community father discovering creeping Charlie (aka glechoma hederacea) at a swanky garden party at an Admiral's home on Coronado Island. He surreptitiously pinched off a stem, hoping to coax some roots. I imagine him stashing his pilfered cutting in his pocket and feeling a little bit guilty at the transgression. As I recall my mother was not amused.

That little bit of green did take root. As my father learned, given the right conditions it really takes off. We had it cascading down walls, crawling through planters, threatening to take over our patio. His experiment was an astounding success. His shame melted into pride.

On spring days when I stroll the gravel paths between flats of annuals dripping with water, I find myself gravitating towards geraniums and petunias. But then I remember that maverick corner in my father's soul that led him to pinch a plant at a party. So I try new things. Sometimes they threaten to take over my garden, sometimes they wither and die. Sometimes they become my new favorite thing.

But always, ever constant are those old favorites, the stately red geraniums, the cheerful marigolds, the fragrant and delicate petunias. I imagine they are earthly reminders of lessons learned in the garden with my father.


  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings to learn how to purchase an original, a print or to commission a painting...or find me on Pinterest. Or you can find this and other this and other prints for sale at FineArtAmerica.com.

Painting is Terrifying

A sage teacher once told the class that you had to be brave to paint. As she passed on that terrifying concept, a loaded palette knife hovered over my painting. No truer words were spoken, I thought, sizing up my next move. Each moment your hand touches the canvas, the clay, the wood, the metal, you risk totally screwing up what, until that very second, you might have been pretty happy with.

There is a certain agony that goes along with the creative process. Unbidden, self-doubt joins me in the studio, freely critiquing my progress (or lack thereof), never holding back a negative opinion. Colors are scrutinized, shapes are criticized, brushstrokes are deemed too tight, too loose.  Focus is lost, meaning becomes foggy. Step by step, lessons, experience, choice and instinct are called into question.

My current project, eventually four pears will emerge on the windowsill.

So when I come to this point in the evolution of a painting I gird myself against this commentary and look for the silver lining. Yeah, I think I'm pretty happy with where I am. It'll do for now. There's a lot yet to do. I can always change course, change colors, start over. Sometimes the cheerleading works, sometimes not and I walk away feeling a failure.

It's a life lesson too, you know, being brave. Living a meaningful life isn't for the faint of heart either. There are choices to be made and, sometimes, bonehead decisions to be reckoned with. And you never quite know how it will all turn out, until it does, or doesn't. We harbor self-doubt and listen to critics whose opinion may or may not be valid. We often make decisions that are self-destructive or hurtful to others. And we suffer the consequences. We don't always have the luxury of a do-over. We can't just paint over our mistakes.

But the sun rises the next day and again we face the shaping of our lives. If we're lucky we can stand back and say we did something right. We can look for a way to shape a new existence or at least better an old one. We can mend relationships, we can mend ourselves. We can learn and grow no matter how much we already know or how big we think we are. Life is like that. But it's sometimes terrifying and courage is almost always something you need to have on your palette.


  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings to learn how to purchase an original, a print or to commission a painting...or find me on Pinterest. Or, you can find prints of my work for sale at FineArtAmerica.com.

Out of Darkness

Sunbathing Clementine © 2014 Lissa Banks

I had been feeling a lack in the inspiration department. My drawings looked flat. My paintings seemed dull. None of my inspiration photos were inspiring. And the garden had been singing its siren song.

I wondered when my muse would return. Could I drag it back by force? What was this place I inhabited these days? Was this my bardo, the transition between death and rebirth,  or as Sogyal Rinpoche writes "the oscillation between clarity and confusion, bewilderment and insight"?

I was floundering and desperately looking for some insight.

Then last Wednesday I delivered a painting I'd submitted to a juried show. A painting that had once kicked off a flurry of inspiration (my clementine series) to a show I really didn't know much about when I'd sent in my entries. I realize I do this a lot. Enter first, ask questions last.

When I drove up to the Danforth I realized this wasn't a little suburban gallery, this was a MUSEUM! With a permanent collection and donors and everything! I signed their papers and handed my painting off to a woman wearing white cotton gloves. My painting was going to hang in a museum exhibit! It was amazing.

Something changed after that. My work took on a new life. I took on a new life. I'd been reborn into my studio. I want all of my work to be worthy of a place like the Danforth Museum. What a powerful motivator such a simple act of walking up some steps and walking through a door has proved itself to be.

The garden will still beckon and I'll continue to stumble through bardo after bardo but I've tasted this moment and I like it. I'll have another, please.


  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings to learn how to purchase an original, a print or to commission a painting...or find me on Pinterest. Or you can find this and other this and other prints for sale at FineArtAmerica.com.

Unfinished Business

I’ve spent the better part of the past couple of weeks or so out in my garden. There were raised boxes to fill and flower beds to turn, and amend and turn again. I dug up turf, lovingly relocating clumps of it to bare spots and divots in my lawn. And since there were more bare spots than there were bits of sod, there was seed to sow.

I scratched at that soil and harvested a barrel’s worth of stones then laid little kernels of hope into slim rows. I stood in the breezy April chill as the spray from the hose drifted back onto my face and watered more than the soil and its promise.

Nothing has sprung to life just yet. 

Eventually comes the point when I’m pretty sure nothing will come of my efforts. I’ve wasted time I could have spent in the studio, or writing to a friend, baking cookies or laughing with a sister. And even if something does live, it will surely be devoured by insects, or chipmunks or the deer that linger at the edges of my lawn.

Before I began on this horticultural tear I had begun yet one more clementine portrait. I’d come upon an image I’d forgotten and I did so love that series. I got just to the point where there is form but little substance. There is promise but also the promise of failure, of disappointment.

It wasn’t hard to turn away and to turn towards the earth.

With the hard evidence of the intractable soil under my fingernails, I recall the pleasure I get from plunging my hands into the dirt. Of prying out a big old rock that’s in my way. Of the smell of the earth. Of the wriggly worms. Of my knees bending on the damp soil. Of the act of hope that the marvel of creation can happen once again and that I could have some small part in it.

So while I wait for that moment to come, for that little miracle, I will return to that clementine that came to sit on my table and look so luscious that I just had to open it up and find it beautiful and want to paint it. And with paint on and in my hands I will once again hope for another kind of miracle and a different kind of creation.

The Best Husband

Christmas in June

When we were finalizing the new front yard landscaping plans he surprised me by asking if I ever did commissions. I said I did. He had an idea.

His wife was extraordinarily proud of the entrance to their nursery and greenhouses, and proud she should be...zinnias, catmint, marigolds, salvia, black-eyed Susans and more burst from the ground in an amazing array. People stop their cars on the side of the road to take pictures. I suspect Mr. Walsh was proud of the display as well. He asked me to capture it in a painting to surprise his wife with for Christmas. I think it was June.

Walsh's Greenhouse ©  Lissa Banks 2014

I have but limited experience with husbands of my own but my impression is that they seldom start shopping for the holidays in the summer!

Now that Christmas 2014 is beginning to fade into our memories (though probably still present around our waists), I'm happy to be able to share Jerry's gift to his wife with you. What a pleasure it was to be able to be a part of his thoughtfulness and devotion.

Madame

a tribute to her royal self

She was a particular kind of feline. Sometimes stately, befitting her name and sometimes ornery, well, just because she could. She was rather large, you see, statuesque. Not quite as big as her scale-bending sibling Otto but big enough to think twice about crossing her. She was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

Madame ©  Lissa Banks 2014

Otto seems to be overlording from the settee in this painting but don't be fooled, it was Madame who ruled the roost, except when she was being freaked out by ceiling fans that is.

We lost Madame this year. My daughter called me, tearfully detailing her demise, congestive heart failure. I hoped the painting, a Christmas gift, would fill that hole beloved pets leave us with when they depart.

What Value Art

What is the value of an artist's work? Probably the hardest thing they do is try to put a price on a piece of art. After all, it's not a widget. It springs to our soul from our eyes and through our hands to become something unique.

A nacent painting.

Today, while I worked on the initial layers of my most recent painting, Dennis, my handyman and all around go-to guy these days was painting the two walls in the hall my 5'2" body couldn't quite reach. He put in 6 hours and I paid him $360 for his time.

The paintings I've done this year have taken me anywhere from three to 70 hours to complete depending on the size and the complexity of the design, but I don't charge by the hour. Artists need to price their work more consistently than that. Sometimes a small piece might be more intricate than you'd think.

People generally expect that a larger piece should fetch a higher price. And often they are correct. It usually does take more time to complete and the materials that are required are also more costly. Similarly most folks would find it odd to see two comparably sized paintings priced dramatically differently so like most painters, I price my work basically by the square inch, rounding up or down if need be and taking a hit on the paintings that took longer and recouping some on the ones that took less. It all evens out.

Ah, freshly painted walls.

Which brings me back to my original question, what is the value of my work? If I were Dennis,  and charged his hourly rate my paintings would cost almost twice as much as they do now, and that doesn't include materials. Maybe I should change my trade and paint walls instead! After all, I know many people who will pay a painter a thousand dollars or more to paint a room or two but who consider paying the same for an original piece of art a luxury.

It's what you value, I guess. I'm just happy so many people value art.


  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings.

From My Soul, From My Hands, and From My Heart

The Critic

A happy Christmas circa 1977

Who is one's own worst critic? I own up to often being my own. When I find myself looking at old photos of myself I acutely recall how much I didn't like that image at the time, but years later find I didn't look all that bad after all (old perms notwithstanding).

"Hey, I was pretty cute", my much older self says through her wrinkles.

And when I look through old projects, I find drawings and paintings that, at the time, I thought were sub-par only to rediscover to be really quite decent after all...several of which I've come to pluck out of the

Impatient Impatiens
 © Lissa Banks 2010

darkness and place on a wall or two.

So what makes me think my work (or self) isn't worthy?

Sometimes it's the people whom we love (and who love us) who, out of some sort of misguided need to save us or themselves from ridicule, try to soften the inevitable blow by letting us know that most likely we're not the next best thing to hit the world.

Sometimes it's a teacher who makes an offhand comment, not entirely meant to discourage, that is taken to heart where it festers into something unforeseen. Those kinds of remarks often sit deep in our souls where they remain invisible negative yardsticks that stymie our growth. Teachers who discourage might be more powerful than those who nurture because they create an environment of self-doubt in which the seed of creativity has a hard time taking hold.

Fat Cat
 © Lissa Banks

I also suspect that a big source of discouragement is the apparent success of others, the big splashy successes of the mass marketed. I don't cast aspersions to any of these folks. But sometimes the ideal to which we aspire, those careers of public figures, seem "out of our league", too fabulous, too not us.

Finding my paradise

So what to do?

First of all, people might not like what you do, and that's okay. I've slaved over stuff that nobody else likes but me. Gotta get to the other side of that. Not too hard since it's easy enough to think everyone else is nuts...nice nuts but nuts...and besides, I can always keep it since I like it!

Paradise
 © Lissa Banks 1975

The flip side: there's no accounting for taste...and by that I mean mine too! This past year I've posted images of paintings I've been reluctant to share because I thought they weren't so hot only to find that they been wildly popular! Who knew?!?

And finally, sometimes our loved ones are insecure about how our success might reduce them in some way. They love us but want us to stay who they think we are. This is a especially hard one for those of us whose work does not help support a household.

If I had one wish I would go back to that time when this challenge arose for me and realize that even though I would most likely not be the next John Singer Sargent or the next Georgia O'Keefe or the next Helen Frankenthaler, that my work was of value because it sprang from my soul, from my hands, and from my heart. And that someone might find that of value, and that I found it of value as well, and that that was enough for me to find my paradise.

  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings.

Calculations

Profiting

Not sure what got into me the other day. I usually leave these things alone until they nag at me incessantly, but I decided to update my Quicken files. Yes, I decided to get down to business.

As is often the case, I got a little surprise but this time it was a good one. As of the end of September it looked as though I was heading toward actually making a small profit in my new life venture, painting. This was gratifying news!

Taking Account

From sketchbook c. 1966-67

I remember that day in eighth grade quite clearly. With windows open towards the ocean, my art teacher was trying to open up our own horizons by talking about careers in art. All I remember were teaching and graphic design. I had a pretty good idea what teaching entailed, being a middle schooler and all, but little idea what graphic design meant. It sounded too constrained. Too robotic for my high flying dreams. Trying hard to catch her drift, I was smacked with the realization that making a living just painting pictures was probably not something that could be remotely possible.

I was a little crushed but not really surprised and left scrambling for something else I might like to do with my life. A state I remained in for quite a while (as in throughout most of my adulthood).

Adding it all up

From sketchbook 2014

The debits and credits of my life thus far most certainly land me in the black. I've been more fortunate than most in this way. Rich in friendships and family, I've had personal and professional success. And now even as I continue to wobble into this new aspect of my life I count my blessings every day.

My profits might not be able to buy me much more than a couple of pedicures and a cup of decaf but it is oh so rich to know that my investment in a long-held dream is finally coming to some kind of fruition. What a lucky woman I am to have been able to reap this bonus.


  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings.

Feminine Wiles

Last Thanksgiving I had the unique privelidge to sleep a night or two in a young ladies' bedroom. She was spending the night at her mother's house so I took up residence among objects most likely not long for her life. Dolls, stickers, posters, scraps of paper. Treasures all.

Cinderella © Lissa Banks

I wanted to read for a bit before going to sleep but the overhead light was a bit too bright. I turned Cinderella Barbie on. Surprisingly bright light, I thought, as I snapped this shot. Barbie illuminating the darkness.

As I look at this painting, I'm struck by so many lessons for the little girls who flick the switch to turn on their bedside light. Cinderella, the girl rescued from oppression by the proverbial prince of a guy who only recognizes her beauty when she's dolled up in her glass slippers. Barbie, the improbable and unattainable figure of womanhood clasped tightly by four-year-old girls across the globe. The girl-woman with no legs, a steely coil hoists her to hover over the desktop.

What lessons do we teach our daughters? Who illuminates their darknesses?

Note: I'm at a loss for a title for this painting. Suggestions? Put them in the comments please.


  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings.

Loosening Up

I'm at a bit of loose ends.

Started one project in oil but it needs to dry before I can move forward. Waiting for a call back from the collector to start working on a commission. Can you hear my fingers thrumming on the desk?

Not wanting to get into anything too ambitious I decided to aim to complete one canvas in one day. This is counter to my instincts. One day requires spontaneity. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I'm a ducks in a row kinda person. There is a list somewhere in every room of my house.

Enter Autumn Mist - Willamette Valley
© Lissa Banks

I turned to my trove of photos and found a shot from a memorable visit to the Willamette Valley wine country in Oregon. It was November so the crush was long tucked away and being transformed by the miracle that turns grape juice into wine.

Maybe it was the spirit of the spirit moving through me (we did enjoy some good wines that trip) but I think I've captured the atmosphere fairly well...mist rising over a nearby ridge, edging through the pines and onto the yellowing vines.

That was fun, think I'll do it again.

  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings.

Reality Check

We sat knee to knee in the living room checkered by Christmas presents and plastic bags full of wrappings when she coyly announced that he was taking her to a romantic inn in Maine for New Years. I wondered if she'd come back with a bit of gold wrapped around her left ring finger. Indeed she did.

A few weeks later my son asked if I'd be able to sit for the boys come August. The wedding to be in Jamaica, not child friendly. Confident that with an expert helper by my side I'd survive, I said yes.

Summer Boys © 2014 Lissa Banks

Fast forward to August. Four nights and five days full of Cheerios, diapers, kiddie pool splashing, tricycle riding, playground excursions, bumped knee kisses, emptied towel drawers, brotherly swipes, baths, more diapers, hummus sandwiches, ice cream making, Lego building, water coloring, turtle hunting and stories before sleep did not go by in a flash. Indeed, there were times I was sure they would never end. But end they did.

I am so glad for that time, exhaustion was gladly paid for the opportunity to be a mother again to two such small and wonderful creatures. And equally glad to have this image as a memory of those summer days.


  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings.

Melancholy

It sometimes happens that happy things are also sad things. That the innocence of children belies what the future holds for them. And life lives itself out in the way it always does, with gratitude jumbled up with loss for things once had. Pretty much sums up my feelings about this painting.

Max © Lissa Banks 2014

The boy grew more distant from us, veiled by the mysteries of the human brain. The beautiful boy. Sweet Max. His grandparents generously commissioned the painting for Max's mother, yet unaware of the life and death struggle one of them would be facing of his own. Body turning against itself.

We soldier on knowing we will meet our own day of reckoning, none of us able to squirm our way out of it. No excuses.

But until then there are bright days against which to squint, posies to pick, gravel to crunch under our tennies, small hands to grab hold of as if to keep them from ever growing larger and inevitably letting go and moving far away from us.


  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings.

Happy

Places and things

It goes without saying that people and relationships are the most important things in our human existence. Without them we are but stick figures, dimensionless, solitary. Like you, my family and friends are precious. And maybe like you, I also derive tremendous satisfaction from being out in nature, and particularly in my fledgeling garden.

My garden (though it struggles against the elements, deer, slugs and powdery mildew) brings me a great deal of happiness. There's something about getting my hands in the dirt or finding a frog under a leaf (always scaring the pants off me) that soothes my soul.

New Roses © Lissa Banks 2014

It's also the ultimate act of optimism. After all, each season is full of disappointment. The aphids that attacked, the tough little radishes that never grew succulent hips, the chipmunks who feasted on all and anything I attempted to start from seed. And yet each spring I dream of armloads of flowers and hope to get sick of zucchini as I peruse little seed packets, pile a wobbly cart full of six-packs of annuals and gallon containers of perennials. I persevere.

This year, in the hopes of establishing a few perennial gardens, I planted some roses. I was late out of the gate. Lowe's had some rather sad looking bare root specimens and I'd heard that they are a popular deer appetizer. Undaunted I dug my rocky soil and plunked them in. I was rewarded.

Maybe my love of gardening is connected to my love of painting. My paintings usually begin with some grand vision and a healthy dose of trepidation. Like my garden, there are risks and danger around every corner. If I'm lucky, I am rewarded with something I can be proud of.

This time I hit the daily double. My roses thrive (and have so far evaded our furry friends) and my newest painting stands as proof. Happiness.


  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings.

Chocolate and Ginger Ale

Celebrating a commission

I've just finished a project, a commission, that's taken me longer than I'd expected and has turned out better than I could have imagined. I'd love to post an image of it here but won't be able to do so until it's delivered, which will be a while. For now I'll just need to be content to celebrate with a few pieces of dark chocolate and ginger ale since it's a little too early for a glass of wine!

Working on commission is a different bird from working on my own. The times I've been so honored to perform such a task I've had to work from a photo that was taken by someone else. This presents a few problems. 

First, not being behind the lens removes me from the emotion of the moment. I must rely on others to explain to me their connection to the event if it's not immediately evident. In the case of the image that inspired the painting below, I was fortunate to know one of the subjects. It made it easier to grasp the melancholy that the patron was hoping I'd capture.

Ruth Mary & Callum  © 2014 Lissa Banks

 Second, sometimes the image is of a lower resolution or is a scan from an old snapshot. Lots of data gets lost in smaller images. To achieve the kind of realism that is often a part of my work small details can be lost or the speckles and "noise" can interfere with understanding object boundaries.

And finally, not all images are optimum. A good composition isn't just about where objects are, it's also about color, contrast, line and balance, for a start. A lack of contrast, for example, makes it difficult to represent depth and keep the painting from being too flat or boring. My most recent endeavor presented that challenge. You'll have to trust me for now that I believe I solved the problem.

Fishing © 2014 Lissa Banks

And sometimes I have the good fortune to be presented with an extraordinary image with beautiful light, color, contrast, composition and clarity, like the inspiration of the painting above, and all is well.

Possibly the hardest thing to do, however, is to try and imagine myself as the commissioner who has in their own head a vision of what they want to see. When I'm able to tap into that place and also work true to my own style the stars align and we have a success. I say "we" because it really is a collaboration. After all, the painting would never have come to light without the patron's desire.

  For more about my work follow me on Facebook or visit my website Lissa Banks Paintings.

Thoughts on Painting

...or the lack thereof.

Since this little tack I've taken in my life has been largely motivated by a desire to follow my bliss and paint, it seemed logical to me to also turn this blog around into something that focused more about my work.  It's morphed before and it can again.

Problem is, I'm not terribly adept at talking about my work. I'm great at talking about paintings, just not mine so much. So I'll just rip off the bandaid and tell the tale of my most recent work, Panhandle TX. Maybe I'll get better at this as I go along.

If you were along for the ride when I blogged about our cross country drive you might remember my July 31, 2013 post that featured the inspiration for this painting along with the only mention of the great state of Texas, with apologies to all Texans. We'd only crossed over a very tiny bit of the panhandle, after leaving spectacular New Mexico, and we found the place desolate and dusty. Believe me when I say that my painting is a verdant Eden compared to the drought stricken landscape we encountered.

But as is often the case, when I really dive into an inspiration image, I find so much more there than "meets the eye" to make a shameless pun. In my little iPhone snapshot I found life clinging tenaciously to the roadside, turned earth teeming with dried seed heads just waiting for rain to give them life, and a battered highway exit sign seemingly pointing the way the last truck took across an arid field. What at first glance seemed so bleak, became rich in meaning.

It is also worth saying that after witnessing the devastation of Texas, entering Oklahoma truly felt like entering the land of Oz. Like an instantaneous miracle, gray yielded to green and all seemed right with the world. So much so that I celebrated the experience with another painting earlier this year, Oklahoma.

You can see these and all of my paintings on my website: www.lissabankspaintings.com or on my Facebook page www.facebook.com/lissa.banks.paintings.

Romancing the House

Some hard work...inside

It took one day to get all the blasted boxes into the house but many more to settle in. When grime was wiped away (off the house and me!) I faced making this house my home.

First Task: House Guts

I love my tractor

I knew the house had its issues. When I turned 30 my back went out, so why not this house, especially if it never seemed to have taken very good care of itself. So I had some inkling that stuff needed fixing. How bad? Hmmm, let me put it this way, my carpenter now enters the house announcing "Honey I'm home" and brings me vegetables from his garden.

The short list of things that needed doing immediately: new electric panel (the old one had melted), new furnace, new neutralizer (yes, I have a well now), all new faucets and shower heads, new water heater, gutters and facia board, exterior window sills, deck work, mold remediation and insulation. And a few dozen other smaller tasks.

I bought a tractor to handle the acre of lawn on my nearly two acre lot and started to clear the weeds, fallen limbs, dead trees, poison ivy and carpenter ants.

Second task: Studio

After: Studio with floor
cloth awaiting final
varnishing.

Before: Yellow walls,
woodwork primed,
carpet pulled up.

Determined to minimize down time creativity-wise, I set to putting my studio in order. Carpet had to go. The yellow walls had to go. Lighting needed to be installed.

I painted the walls, painted the floors to make plywood boards look like porch decking and painted shelving to match my other furniture. It was a paint fest for a room in which, hopefully, the painting would never end!

I also experimented with making a canvas floor cloth. Popular in colonial America, I thought it would be appropriate to my new home state and practical for my studio. I am so happy with the result I've pulled the carpet up off the stairs to make a black striped one to cascade down. Not sure when I'll get to it but it's on the list.

Third task: Guest Room

With my most excellent girlfriend, Tree, due to visit that summer, the guest room was second on the list. I was determined to make her room the happiest place on Main Street (Norfolk, that is).

Not sure what possessed me but I really wanted a funky wallpaper. After picking myself up off the floor from the wallpaper sticker shock, I thought why do I need any stinking wallpaper, I'll find a stencil! Etsy to the rescue.

I cursed like a sailor making it happen. It was 90° with 90% humidity for the two weeks it took to finish and I nearly expired in the process but I love, love, love the result. The guys installing insulation in the attic and the carpenter even liked it.  It really is a happy room.

Fourth, fifth...sixtieth tasks: 

Laundry now a slightly
less dreaded task

And then there was a new grand baby boy born in September, sweet William; a visit to California and Oregon, a half cord wood to stack; living room and study painted; family and friends visits; Christmas; snow, cold, snow, cold and more cold and more snow; three art exhibits; ten new paintings; and more.

My last projects were to paint the little den upstairs, spuzz up the laundry alcove and to try and make the guest bath look like I'd spent thousands of dollars on a major upgrade. The laundry room is now less of a drudge. It used to be a dreary beige.

New light fixtures, a snazzy new color, and a (fake)
marble countertop really transformed this bathroom

But the bathroom turned out better than I'd hoped. In addition to giving it a fresh coat of flannel gray paint I desperately needed to improve the rather drab Formica countertop. Ever the optimist, I thought I'll make it look like marble.

Hint: Rustoleum makes a marvelous product that sticks like super glue to the laminate! It stinks to high heaven but it works. To that I added coat after coat of paint and polyurethane and finished with a silky coat of car wax to mimic the smooth finish of polished marble. If I do say so myself, it's stunning. Now I want to marbleize everything!

And now for something completely different...

I'm going to hang up the scrapers and sandpaper for now. There is still plenty to do, but I'm planning to focus on what really feeds my soul: painting (like paintings). Today I launched my Lissa Banks Paintings Facebook page, like it, share it, tell your friends, I want to sell some paintings!

That and working in my garden, mowing the lawn, picking cucumber beetles off the plants and chasing the neighbor cat out of the yard.

Sunday morning I woke to find a horse in the back yard, grazing on my grass and switching his tail. It reminded me of why I love living here. I'm close to the things I love: one of my children, grandchildren, nature, my life work.

A little over a year ago I traded a paycheck for something you couldn't pay me to give up: love, serenity, clean air and the satisfaction of knowing that whatever my future, it's my own to make.

Next: Thoughts on painting