My Expensive Bottle Opener - watercolor

6"x9" watercolor

Whatnots, knick knacks, tchotchkes - whatever you call them, they have often worked their way into our hearts as well as onto our shelves. They hold memories.

This cast iron bottle opener belonged to my grandparents. It saw a lot of use in the days when it was a necessity for getting into your bottle of pop (or soda if you prefer). When I was young, it was a dark, mustard-yellow with dull, dark, red and green pops of color on its wings, etc. By the time I was in my 20s the opener wasn't seeing much use, and a lot of the paint had worn off.  Poor, ugly, neglected little thing.

I had the bright idea of giving it a facelift. I wanted it to be a Christmas surprise for my grandparents but. . .  how was I going to smuggle it out of their house? What if I was caught "stealing"? Would they believe me when I told them what I had planned? Would they act like they believed me, yet at the same time fear I was an up and coming kleptomaniac?

I enlisted my dad's help. It was his parents after all. I explained my intentions and gave him a wink as I slipped it into my purse. We then behaved nonchalantly like all good crime families do.

However, as we were leaving the house that evening, my grandma noticed its absence. She began to ask about it and look for it in earnest. My dad and I looked guiltily at each other and, as he didn't really want to see his mother in torment, he stepped back into the house, said "don't worry about the bird," and stepped back out. I've always wondered what they made of that comment.

I painted it up as you see above, and they were very happy at Christmastime.

Several years later, after they had both passed, the bottle opener ended up in a box of miscellaneous items for auction. I wanted that bird. I ended up bidding against a person who must have been a collector of some sort. It was a bidding battle. He was not going to walk away with my prize! 

Thankfully, he bowed out at $30. Who knows how far I would have gone. What would I have given? I do remember family members circling my children protectively just in case the klepto had come entirely unglued.

The parrot sits in my kitchen window to this day, and after 30 years I'm noticing that it needs another facelift. I promise to share the results here with you.

A few steps in the process:

 

Behind the Purple Door

 Watercolor - approx.  9 x 12"

My step-daughter and her husband travel. They're great at it. They love it. And they have a website where you can find her brilliant (and funny) articles on travel, along with amazing photos taken by both herself and her crazy-talented, photographer-husband. It's called Manifesting Travel. Please give it a click and check it out!

My jaw dropped when I saw this door it! (Look for it on their website. It was from their recent trip to London) I had to paint it! And write a poem! Haha! Here it is:

Behind the Purple Door 

Passing down a street unknown,

I spied a purple door

with polished brass, and marble steps

that lead to something . . . more.

But more of what? I asked myself.

Behind that hue sublime,

are all belongings dipped in gold?

To live, have they more time?

Are people here, in fancy clothes,

who sip their fancy tea,

with pinkies out, and elbows in,

much happier than me?

Their tablecloth so elegant

and made of lace so fine.

Mine’s old and from my mother,

with stains of tea and wine.

Twas handed down, like all good stuff,

and treasured all the more.

Do items have that kind of worth

behind the purple door?

Do candles here burn brighter?

Are the residents more kind?

Are they smarter, stronger, wiser?

Can they always speak their mind?

And those who live behind the door,

do all their problems cease?

They have wealth, but do they have

a deeper sense of peace?

Are their lives here that much better?

They have etiquettes and rules.

Their belongings may be shiny,

but the shine, it only fools

us into thinking we need more,

when truly we are fine.

And if I had to choose a door,

thank you, I’ll choose mine.

I like sharing my process, so here it is in a few steps:

I sketched the door, applied the masking fluid to the areas I wanted to remain white, 

and started the first layer of paint.

This is the fun part - watching the purple door pop off the page.

Getting more of the detail done.

Finished watercolor, before a bit of digital tweaking.

As always, thanks for stopping by!

Watercolor - Teacup

 I have always loved works of art in watercolor but haven't worked with it much myself. 

This year I've made up my mind to try to work more in this medium. 

It takes more patience: (Patience is something I have been greatly lacking lately in my work) It needs to be planned a bit more ahead of time - Where are the highlights going to be? Protect those areas. Where do you want the paint to flow and have its own fun? 

It takes more faith: that the drip and blobs will dry to satisfaction. 

It takes practice: Wet into wet, dry over dry. 

There are no undo buttons. I can't paint over mistakes like I can with oils. (I make a lot of mistakes)

I didn't begin this piece very carefully. I just sketched it up (with my reference photo) and dug right in. Mistakes were made. I cheated (if you want to call it that), and when it was complete, I put it into my digital app, Procreate, and fixed a couple things. Below is the process to where it ended up before I "cheated". 

     This bottom one is what the actual, physical watercolor looks like. My ellipse is skewed, and I didn't plan well for the highlights. For my own purposes, like putting my art here on my blog, or uploading the image to my yearly calendar, it works to do both the physical watercolor, and the digital fixes and enhancements.

     I'm not doing very many things anymore with the end purpose of framing and hanging on a wall. But, having said that, I'm aiming to actually have a watercolor or two, done this year, that are frame worthy.