Glory

As I finished up this painting I was taken back to high school English (my tattered, 1,398 page textbook still takes up real estate on my bookshelf). Thinking about what I might want to express about this painting Wordsworth's poem came to mind; Intimations of Immortality, and the famous lines:

What though the radiance which was once so bright 

Be now for ever taken from my sight, 

Though nothing can bring back the hour 

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; 

We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind

Glory © Lissa Banks 2019

Indeed, what does remain? I'd say quite a lot.

I often think about those days. We wore uniforms: plaid jumpers, saddle shoes, peter pan collars. Any individuality was tucked underneath in the form of ruffled bloomers, leopard print bras and snazzy underpants. We were offered an excellent education if we were willing to pick it up. I think we did, for the most part. We graduated, scattered. Some of us married, some are now grandmothers, too many are gone.

But back then we were rebels under those plaid jumpers. We chaffed under the constraints of the school's rules, of the world's rules. The year we graduated students marched in the street to protest the war and one was shot and killed by a National Guard soldier in Ohio. We expressed our shock by wearing black armbands over those white short-sleeved blouses. We lost our innocence; we found our voices. Despite evidence of the world on fire all around us we believed the world was changing, slowly, for the better.

Wordsworth laments the losses of childhood but comes to recognize the richness of the world that he knows now as an adult. It's a powerful image and one reason I think I'm so drawn to paint these beautiful flowers. It takes me back to my childhood home and the tulips my father refrigerated all winter so they'd bloom in our California spring. It takes me back to my "flower child" adolescence and the idealism we held so dear.

Yes, time passes. We lose some things and people we love, but we gain some things also. And we have all those memories that we can gather up like a bouquet of our life. And we have tulips.

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)

Aglow

I met Alicia online. As in an online dating app. But I wasn't looking for a girlfriend, I was checking out the competition.

After countless profiles of women my age in v-neck dresses looking lovingly toward the camera with alluring smiles and dreams of Mr. Right holding hands on the beach at sunset, I came upon her profile. I laughed out loud and had to tell her what a great writer she was and to wish her luck, so I did. That led to a meet up which turned into a friendship. Shortly thereafter she met a great guy and eventually I moved across the country.

From Alicia's Eye © Lissa Banks 2019

Now we are Facebook friends. She posts pictures of her remodel. She posts pictures of hummingbirds at her feeder, her brooding plumeria and moonlight over Los Angeles making me a little homesick. I salivate at the chicken mole she memorializes at a local spot. She's still in love with her man and I'm happy for her happiness.

Then one day she posted a photo of some cut citrus and I asked if I could use it for a painting. Being the generous soul that she is, she said yes. And so I painted it.

There are people that come into our lives and move right on through, like ghosts through a wall. Most of the men I met online were that sort. Others stay and have long lasting influence, both good and bad. And then there are the Alicias whose bright light shines like a beacon now and then, as bright and tart and sweet and aglow as the fruit in her photo, and now, hopefully in my painting. 

Thank you Alicia first for your turn of a phrase and now for your eye for something extraordinary. Please keep sharing that moonlight.

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.

Heading For The Barn

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it was dark and it was raining.

We had been wine tasting down in the Willamette Valley on a cool autumn day, our teeth stained gray by the luscious pinot noir we'd tried. After a prudent break in the action, and a meal to fill our stomachs, we headed back north to Portland. I sat in the back seat.

The best place for me is always in the back given my penchant for dramatic air-driving to assist the actual driver from steering us into certain death. From there I can mutter exclamations, grit my teeth and hold tightly onto myself in phobic peace. On this drive there was little to see. It was pitch black even on the major highways as we hurled home.

Dark Driving © Lissa Banks 2019

When I was at camp--a horsy kind of place, just right for this little tomboy--we rode trail horses of all colors and sizes. And also of personality. First year campers were given the older, more experienced horses who were slow to rile and, well, just all over slow...with one exception.

At some point in the ride they knew, having traipsed these trails much of their lives, that home was nigh. So with the scent of the barn in their nostrils they perked up their ears and picked up their pace. We were warned to not let our chargers break into a trot, let alone a gallop, lest we newbies loose control. So we plodded on. How we all longed to let them go for it and make like Annie Oakley along with them.

Gone are those days for me. I'm sure that when we parked the car and dashed inside, I didn't even think twice about the intense fear I had experienced just moments before.  As annoying as my fear of being a passenger is to my fellow travelers, and I know this because they tell me, I long for those days of casting caution to the wind and spurring on the steed, wind in my hair and rain on my cheeks.

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.

What Linda Said

Linda said, "Well, it's either going to be really fabulous," she paused, "or really gross." She was talking about the trip to Costa Rica I would be chaperoning along with two science teachers, both men. I was told the school wanted a motherly influence to go along with them. What Linda and I were both a bit leery of was the fact that all of the students who had signed up turned out to be boys. High school boys.

Douglas - On The Road To Monteverde - © Lissa Banks

It started rather inauspiciously when, on our way to our first destination our van clunked to a stop along the road. Light was waning as our driver searched for a wrench to fix the tire. No luck. As we waited for rescue, Douglas climbed on top of the vehicle, his camera always at hand. Below him lay the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean. Behind him, to the east, lay the beautiful cloud forests of Monteverde.

On that trip we climbed hillsides as the looming volcano popped an occasional boulder out of its caldera. We zip lined through clouds, soaked in scalding hot springs, and explored murky waterways while caimans slithered off the bank next to our low slung vessel. We even nearly killed ourselves whitewater rafting for which we unapologetically celebrated our survival with a taboo beer at dinner.

Roaches the size of your hand, hordes of mosquitoes, poisonous vipers, ants whose pincer bites mimic the pain of being shot by a gun, testosterone fueled iguanas and the random gecko found in one's pillowcase (mine) were much more serious threats than any high school boy.

I made that trip three times in total and those boys were my favorite charges. Not gross at all, totally fabulous.

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.

Positively

I can count on my left hand the number of times I can remember her throwing a fit. Her mother will likely disagree. But I find this child one of the most positive people I've ever known...granted, I've only known her a little over two years, her being two years old after all.

Charlotte © Lissa Banks 2018

She's a bit of an old soul in that body. I suspect she is reincarnated from someone who in some way was denied the life they wanted and has been born into this one determined to relish each and every moment...the good and the bad.

While visiting her the other day we sat on the floor of the sunroom, the rug strewn with crayons and markers; boxes and paper marked with abstract figures (her specialty) embellished with a constellation of stickers. She proudly showed me another of her masterpieces, this done with pink pen on the white painted furniture. I tried my best to give her a disapproving scowl but I was powerless against her twinkle and her smile.

One day she may become a surly teenager or a busy woman, too busy for her old Grandma. But at least I'll have this memory of her, radiant, victorious over chastisement. Positively perfect.

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.

In Praise of Pretty

What's not to love about lovely? Why not want to surround yourself with beautiful things?

A while ago an influential individual in the local art scene remarked to me about an artist we both know. He said that their work, up to fairly recently, had been among the sort of "pretty pictures" that he often sees across his desk, but that recently the artist had "upped their game" to a new level. While I agreed that the artist had indeed matured in their medium, I was left with a sour taste in my mouth as I walked away from the conversation. What's wrong with pretty?

Death of Marat by Jean Louie David

Yes, there's a morbid beauty in David's Death of Marat, along with a healthy dose of political  commentary. And there is no doubt in the emotional impact Edvard Munch brought to the canvas with The Scream, especially now. I feel that way when I turn on the news these days.

The Scream by Edvard Munch

There are countless other noteworthy examples: Picasso's screaming bulls' indictment of war in his awe inspiring La Guernica, Michelangelo's pathos laden Pieta and just about anything by Francis
Bacon or Heronimous Bosch. All beautiful in their power and ability to elicit strong emotion.

But sometimes, actually most times, I prefer to surround myself with things that please me like a vase of dahlias or a bowl full of tomatoes or a cat purring on my lap. I thrill to the mastery of John Singer Sargent's palette.

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by John Singer Sargent

Or the meditative calm of Mark Rothko's intimate yet monumental canvases.

Blue Green and Brown by Mark Rothko

And I am calmed by the serenity of Jan Vermeer's interiors. I have not visited the Met if I haven't spent a few minutes in front of this painting.

Young Woman With a Water Pitcher by Johannes Vermeer

So please forgive my flowers, my happy children and the cloud filled skies of my landscapes. I rather like pretty.

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.