From THIS to THAT...a wildflower painting by Sue Scoggins, North Carolina Painter

It's time to share.  Find a great song.  This one was "Oh Happy Day."  Sing it in your head. (If the doors are closed, you can sing it out loud!)   After toning the canvas with yellow and magenta ink, I dried it with a hairdryer. Then wrote the lyrics all over the canvas.  Once dry, I brushed on gesso for texture and toning down the background. While all this was going on, I could see wildflowers beginning to appear.  The rest was envisioning fields and using intuitive colors and shapes and negative painting around the shapes.  Give it a try.  You'll like it!

Oh Happy Day

36x48 original oil on gallery wrapped canvas

contact:

The Little Art Gallery

Raleigh, North Carolina

Fields of Wildflowers - abstract florals by North Carolina Painter Sue Scoggins

36x36 original oil on gallery wrapped canvas

SOLD

Can't get enough of these things.  After dropping someone off at the airport the other day, I did the round about onto I-40.  As I "rounded about" a huge field of wildflowers almost caused me to run off the road.  Planted by the North Carolina Department of Transportation Wildflower Program, these fields are all along the sides of the roads.  What a great gift to see!

FLOWER CHILD - Abstracts (sort of) by North Carolina Painter Sue Scoggins

30x40 original oil on canvas

contact:

The Little Art Gallery

Cameron Village

Raleigh, NC

Finally have settled down in the happening city of downtown Raleigh, NC.  It has taken me a while to get my brush moving again.  The beach was a tad lonely, so city life seemed like a nice change.  New town.  New studio.  New vision.  Here is a new piece that is headed for The Little Art Gallery in Cameron Village in two weeks.  Seems fields of wildflowers have taken root. Can't get them out of my head! 

FRENCH PAINTING PRICES - more in days to come

Around My Corner

14x14 original oil, canvas on board

unframed

$750

DECOR!!! ONWARD AND UPWARD - a traveling art blog by Sue Scoggins

Bye bye salmon, onion, goat cheese bagel and little red motorcycle!

The long awaited day has come.  For weeks I've shoved to the back of my brain how I was going to get everything back to the good old USA.  As a former airline employee, it was shunned if we checked a bag.  We were so proud to say, "I can go  10 days to Europe with just one little rollie!"

WELL! Three suitcases, a backpack filled with 11 French hats, and a tube of rolled up paintings later...I'm here to say that I definitely looked like the tourist on John Candy's European Vacation. By the way, the bus drivers do NOT help load your bags. When the taxi driver dropped me off at the station, it was quite entertaining for all to watch as this elderly woman (ME) meticulously strapped these pieces together,  attempt to walk two steps, only to have them  tumble down again over the crowded cobblestone walkway.  I could see, out of the corner of my eye, an indifferent little Frenchman in his Persol sunglasses, leaning against the railing as he watched me struggle. Frustrated,  I whispered under my breath..."you could help, ya know" ...  after which he reluctantly stepped toward me.  "Oh no...don't bother." I thought as I raised my seething head, made the sign of the cross as if to scare away the demons, then smiled and said, "That's ok. I'm fine.  No thanks."  (ooo.  That didn't sound nice.)  I MUST PRACTICE MY DAMSEL IN DISTRESS ACT!

AND for the second act:  getting the bags into the belly of the bus.  It was a true grand finale when I pulled back, grasped the handle and slung my body with all it's might to get that 50 pound bag onto the bus; throwing my delicate frame into a flaming arabesque twirl off the curb and back on again.  The people cheered an ovation with their hidden grins.  BUT,  I was once told by a well respected co-worker..."never let 'em see you sweat!" So, with head held high and a laugh at myself, I stepped onto lyne 40 for the last time to the Marseille airport.

Not for one minute have I regretted this trip; traveling solo, learning curves, new cultures, conquering fears, silent nights and overcoming anxiety..finding out that I could do it. Friendly people, not so friendly people, goose legs and black pudding (blood sausage), goat cheese and olives, ancient fountains and foreign films, eating alone but drawing the scene, lovers and tourists, bus ventures and caves full of art, ochre  cliffs and lavender fields....those are a few of my favorite things.....
when the dog bites...when the bees stings....when I'm feeling sad......OH....THAT'S A SONG!!!!  (sorry)  Well....I simply remember my favorite things..and then I don't feeeeeel   so bad.

Thank you all for joining me on this trip.  It was great having the company.  Keep singing.  Onward and upward.

Next!  Maybe a little red motorcycle?

ALORS! - a traveling art blog by Sue Scoggins

Tree Line
6x12 original oil on canvas

These I left out the top of the buildings

I've noticed something through drawing. I never connect the lines. The lines are left  unfinished and n-e-v-e-r quite touch their next point.  I wonder what a psychologist would say about that.  Hmm. Where's the sofa?  It's not a conscious thing where I intentionally leave them unfinished.  It's definitely subconscious.  Does that mean I have unfinished business?  Or that my life is incomplete?  Or that I'm waiting for something or that there's more to do with my life?  Or am I lazy and undisciplined? How about ...it could just be my my astigmatism!   I mean...it's not just an occasional line or two....it's all of the lines!  So, I've tried to make sure now that I "connect" the dots now, finish my lines and I've gone back and tried to complete them all.  

 ALORS! (well..)

My bags are packed, I'm ready to go.  (A little bit of Peter, Paul and Mary)
In the last 6 weeks, my vocabulary has consisted of primarily one to three word sentences. Bonjour!  Merci!  Ca va bien? Très bien. Au revoir. Oui.  Non. Je suis en peintre. Je ne comprend pas. Vous ne comprenez anglais?  Un peu. C'est bon. C'est beau! Très jolie! Voila! Pardon. No problem.  Reservation. L'addition. Un billet. Expresso noisette, s'il vous plait. aperitif, pour manger, quelque chose a boire, vin blanc, vin rouge, vin rose, mojito! 

Oh yes!  Don't forget  "Ou est le bus pour Les Baux?" and "il est chaud."

My diet has consisted of (In order of importance)
Expresso
Bread, loaves of ...(which includes pastries and pizza)
Wine, bottles of...
Cheese - goat, ewe (brocciu), parmesan
Tomatoes - heirloom and grape
Olives - tons
Hummus
an occasional zuccini
white fish
shrimp

I've had no meat in 8 weeks accept
one goose leg (that was in Hungary)
one lamb (not the whole thing)
one filleted chicken breast
very little refined sugar  (that was a "creme glacee".  I had to do it.)
nothing processed or fried  (not that I don't crave a french fry right now!)

My jar of Nutella is empty now. (It was a small European jar.)  

MUSEE GRANET, the Pearlman Exhibit - a traveling art blog by Sue Scoggins

The right half of
La Montagne Sainte Victoire

My friend Catherine and I said our last goodbye yesterday.(That's Caterrreeeeene, with a rolled r).  She was such a highlight of this trip.  She'll be off in the country to teach next week.  I'll be heading back to the USA.  My easel now has a new home with her.  It's too heavy and takes up too much room for me to carry back and maybe this will encourage her to pick up the oils again.  Thank you, Catherine, I'll remember our heartfelt conversations.

Did you know that Cezanne painted his beloved Monte Sainte-Victoire mountain 87 times?  He died of pneumonia at 67 years old after being caught in a rain storm while painting it for the 88th time.  Now, I'd say that was a magnificent obsession.

After beginning to sort, toss, cut and finish up things, I decided to take one last visit to the Musee Granet to see the Pearlman Collection of Cezanne.  I don't usually rent those little recorded tour headsets, but I finally talked to myself and said, "Self.  How are you going to learn if you don't listen?"   I found myself mesmerized as it was told as a dialogue between Henry Pearlman and a questioning little girl.  Cezanne's first exhibition was after being "rejected" in the Paris salon show and his  first solo exhibit wasn't until he was 56 years old.  Pretty interesting.  He pretty much became a recluse and no one knew where he was...even thought he was dead.  I guess that's a common thing about artists....they get lost in their painting, become isolated, sometimes forget to even eat.  (Of course, that's not the case with me.  Eating, that is.)

In one room, I found myself completely spellbound by his most famous painting, La Montagne Sainte-Victoire.  I examined every brush stoke and every color against color.  I'd move from one side of the room to the other.  Other's did the same.  In fact, waves of people would come in and just stand as if in some sort of a dance trance, shuffling around as if hypnotized by it's movement.  Sketching them had to be quick. How could a painting of a mountain be so captivating?  Aix en Provence is very proud of their Cezanne.

Bye, bye Musee Granet.  Bye, bye Cezanne.  Bye bye La Montagne Sainte-Victoire.