Standing on the Shoulders of Giants

I look at a lot of pictures of grain elevators. I have found that Google searches of "grain elevator" brings the most results, with "country elevator" coming in a distant second. "Canada grain elevator" pulls in some of the most beautiful offerings, and "Montana grain elevator" is also a good choice. I can switch out Montana for Iowa or Indiana and still have a worthy selection.

All of these searches have opened up to me a parts of histories that would have otherwise been overlooked -- by me, anyway. I've learned a bit about the importance of the grain elevators, the uses for these prairie giants, and the continued need for them. Even the many of them that are no longer in use fill a void. Like misplaced lighthouses, they continue to be a beacon of existence in otherwise empty fields.

I have just finished this small painting. It is one of my favorites. I like that these stoic buildings seem to be mingling with each other. It's called "Cluster."

Enjoy.

P.S.
I have my own shop on Etsy (tatestreet is the name of my shop). I have recently discovered a photographer who has her own shop and her work is stunning. For those of us who lust over photos of abandoned utilitarian buildings, her work is like romance.

Here is the link to her shop. Check it out: www.etsy.com/shop/MTPhotoJournal?ref=shopinfo_shophome_leftnav

This painting has sold!

Seeing is Believing

As I finished this painting, one of my kids said "I really wish it would snow." I found her comment odd because, up until then, this painting, in my mind, was of a sun-bleached grain elevator. It was not of a snow-covered field, but of a an arid, parched land. Not a chill in the air, but a white-hot stillness that surrendered little relief, even in the shade.

I call this one 'Grain Elevator 8.' No particular reason, except that I've done so many grain elevators, I'm losing track. It is the latest in my experimentation with suggested architecture, where edges become part of the background and foreground.

I'd like to do an entire collection in this style. Hope you like it.

How Hard Could This Be?

It's been quite some time since I posted a painting. I have to admit that I've been in a bit of a lull. But a creative block isn't all there is to blame. I began this painting on Oct. 5. I started with the red grain elevator and then spent a few days looking at it. I didn't like it. I gave a lot of consideration to painting over it. But then I added just a little shadow on the roof of the building. At first, I didn't like that either, but by the end of the day, I was glad I painted that shadow. It saved the building.
I added the horizon with little issue. The painting, as a whole, wasn't exciting me. I felt like it needed something. My plan all along was to paint the entire surrounding white. As I did this, I thought something was missing and planned to add a line of telephone poles that would grow smaller toward the left side of the canvas.
I finished the white portion of the painting -- which is most of it -- and waited for it to dry enough for me to add the telephone poles. Over the span of about a week, I grew to appreciating the starkness of the painting. The white really pushed across the feeling of a cold, wide-open land -- like some place in Montana.
Despite this growing appreciation, I painted telephone poles. I immediately regretted it. "What was I thinking?" I asked myself. I thought of tossing this one away. This is supposed to be relaxing and rewarding. I was feeling neither.
Once I calmed down, I let the ill-fated telephone poles dry and then eliminated them.
And, once again, I am at peace with my painting.
I hope you enjoy it. It's called "The Brisk Morning."

This painting has sold.

The Art of Suggestion, Part 2

   Have you ever gone out on a summer day where it was so hot that it seemed like the heat melted all of the color out of the sky, leaving just a white sheet of nothingness?
     That is the kind of day these sailboats are spending on the water in this painting I call "Noon Sails." The luke-warm water reflects the colorless sky to where -- were it not for the gradual rise of distant mountains -- one wouldn't know where the the water stops and the sky starts.
     I decided, again, to merely suggest the shape of the sails by having them cut their shapes into the horizon. One one hand, you can see the sails. On the other hand, you could see triangular pieces missing from the mountains.
     I see the sails. On a blisteringly hot day.
     I've enjoyed exploring this style of painting. I probably will not continue with it, but now and then it's nice to push myself in another direction.
     I hope you enjoy!

The Art of Suggestion

I decided to further strip down my already barebones grain elevators. In this painting I just finished, I experimented with using negative space as a means for giving structure to the building. The left edge of the grain elevator is suggested, but it is there, thanks to the natural tendency our brain has for filling in patterns.
I kept the sky white, and the grain elevator appears even more aged and washed out as a result. All in all, I'm pleased with this little painting. I call it "Grainery."

This painting has sold.

Red and Yellow

This latest completed painting is called "Red and Yellow." It's the second painting of a 'partial' building I've done. I like this one quite a bit, and hope that you will, too.

Since I'm hitting a lull in art shows, I'm going to post a few paintings on Etsy in the coming days. Please feel free to pop in and check out what's for sale.

Take care!

The Bluest Sky

I started this painting at Parisian Promenade. I'm really enjoying the look of it. Not only the modern feel of it, but the color and composition. There's no ground in the painting. It's a snapshot; a portrait of these grain elevators.
The colors are very bold. I usually have an idea of the colors I want to use for my paintings, and then I'll mix until I get what I want. But for this one, the blue sky is right out of the tube. The yellow is also a color I didn't have to mix. Only the green was mixed.
I'm really pretty proud of this one.

This painting has sold.