A Different Kind of Portrait

Hungry

Come December, despite the sensory overload of holiday lights, music, food and good will to all mankind, something like a lowly piece of fruit sitting alone on the table can reach deeply into one's psyche. The simplicity, the brilliance of a clementine reached mine.

It started innocently enough. I was hungry. I grabbed a piece of fruit, got half way through peeling it when something distracted me. I came back to see this lovely thing begging to be acknowledged. Vulnerable, half exposed, cradled by its shell. A photo snapped before it was devoured. The result:

Sunbathing Clementine © Lissa Banks 2014

The first gave me a taste for more. And the more I worked with the subject the more I found myself imbuing them with human traits. They were alternatively straightforward and welcoming...

Miss Clementine © Lissa Banks 2014

...generous and kind...

Open Hand © Lissa Banks 2015

...seductive and secretive...

Temptress © Lissa Banks 2015

...and jealous.

Gossip © Lissa Banks 2015

Yes, I was a bit anthropomorphic I admit. But they seemed to have personalities in their little bumps and dimples, blemishes and brightness. They became my companions and when I finished one I rushed to start another. I might keep going as they are imminently enjoyable. That is, if I don't polish off my subject matter before their season ends.

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.

Winter's Warmth

Among tattered sticky notes, phone extensions listings, memos, meeting dates and emergency procedures, round little faces of friends, family and colleagues' babies and grand babies colored the bulletin board beside my desk. I didn't put all I received up there, just the ones that made me happy.

Before the Snowball Fight  ©  Lissa Banks 2014

This one was a keeper. I've always loved Violet's expression, adoration and mischievousness rolled into one. And Richard, blissfully unaware of what might be forming in Violet's mitten, the big brother embracing his little sister.

I thank my nephew for allowing me to use his photo to create this painting. The bulletin board stayed with the job but these faces, and sibling love and rivalry, live on.

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.