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.

Flashing Back

It was just past midnight on a damp June evening some 46 years ago. I was sitting on the floor with a sketchy black and white TV tuned to the California presidential primary election results. It's likely that I was working on a painting that looked something like this one.

Daisies 1969

I was 16-years-old and had been working on odds and ends of lumber, detritus from my dad's workshop that he let me have, encouraging my artwork. Some were stylized portraits of families — girls with big eyes and Victorian styled dresses holding bouquets of daisies. Others were baskets of flowers, or suns, or moons. It was the 60s, after all. I made a little money from commissions. Handmade versions, perhaps, of stick figures seen on the back of minivans these days.

On this night, however, innocence was lost once again. I looked up just in time to see a scuffle in the kitchen of a hotel. A woman, Ethyl Kennedy, reaching down for her husband Robert, as he collapsed on the ground.

What did I just see? What was real? There was no DVR to rewind. No instant replay. There was no explanation except for the chaos that surrounded the man on the ground. Sadly we'd seen it before. When would it end?

I remember the bright colors on my pallet, my brushes, my hands, the wood. I remember the black and white on the flickering TV screen.


  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.