My best friend started growing a flower for me while I was in hospital.
When I came home it bloomed. I decided to paint it.
When you wonder about your dream home, you try to imagine how it would look like. What the interior will be and kitchen is important part of it. Kitchen is like a heart of every house. And traditionally it lead to perfect house wife too – what ever it means for each of us.
I am married for two months now. Usually I paint in my kitchen in weekends mornings while house is lazy as sleeping bodies in there. Children not running to school (or home works while schools are closed do to pandemic). My new husband who wake up tired after creative night in his music studio is sleeping or sleepy walking around home in underwear. In my mind I gently cuddle them all and smiling about my old struggles to be a perfect wife or mum.
For now I think that beauty is in imperfection and freedom as part of happiness is there too. But now I paint puzzle piece of perfect house wife kitchen wall to get that feeling from old childhood dreams of “my dream home” with love to my self not struggles to reach something imaginary perfect.
have you ever asked your self – why all beauty stays on the palette? I used “leftovers” to paint small 15×15 cm paintings. It’s like a dot at the end of theme for me.
But after all each of them have their own story. And they become valuable by themselves.
Dose the size matters when it become to good painting?
#art #artforsale #painting #painter #paintingoftheday #paintingforsale #forsale #acrylicpainting #painter #paintings #paintingart #acrylic #truelove #artgalleries #abstractart #artgallerie #abstractpainting #abstract #originalart #fineart #artwork #contemporarypainting
I always said that art is the place there everyone could be free, so we should paint that place golden. What does it means?
Freedom is difficult, it has a different meaning for every human. For example for some paid job is trap, for others its ticket to releasnes.
I met some new friend last year at coffee hose near at my home. He told stories about friends from study times who make carriers as presidents and go to wind tunnel at free time. This is quite expensive sport wich make Latvia famous as first flight show at the Olympic Games in Turin.
This summer I met my friend again and he told me how once he skied in Austria with speed 120 km per hour. Is it even possible? Do I remember it right?
He told me once that job is no more necessary for him, he have enough money to don’t care about it anymore, but he keep doing it because it is part of his personality. He is senior expert of what he doing and he enjoy that. That simple.
After few weeks he went to trip by bicycle all around Europe…. alone. We who stayed at home checked email to get some news from ur crazy friend and dive in to pure joy about his journey.
Last week he celebrate his birthday twice as old as mine, at the party there was 60 people with different ages, experiences and occasions. After exquisite dinner and wine degustation ritual we all dance around him singing “You simply the best!”
I think a lot about which one of my paintings give him as present. I know that he is not big fan of art world, his theme are numbers – clear and distinct world, and abstract paintings is always a bit challenge. For ones there is nothing, for others this is the place of free emotions and imagination.
I choose to give to my friend golden one – manifestation of all that keeps us free and live. He is such an inspiration for all of us. If he will like my painting or not, he knows value of ideas, of time and work, of excitement and dreams which came true. More or less it’ s all are golden.
I spent hours and hours with my flowers this summer. I had planted in the soil so many seeds and bulbs early in spring. We watched a garden of our own growing and blooming in pots on our sunlit terrace. Marigolds, nasturtiums, anemones, pelargoniums, a carpet of wildflowers, purple, red, and white swords of gladiolus. […]Magic Murals of Flowers in Tove Jansson’s “Moominpappa at Sea” — Sea Library
Beautiful blog by my best friend with main question:
The book I gave as present to Sea Library and flower is from my childhood that I forgotten. But that marked story about Moominmamma came right in time….
This was one of my first painting after my huge break up period with brushes and blank canvas. I wanted to put it all together – day and night, light and darkness, Latvian garden in blooming and palm tree who belongs in some exotic garden at far away country.
I didn’t want to tell about house much just rise imagination about what could be inside it.
Home was always a complicated symbol in my dreams. In real life I live in my parents home till 18 – at one place, at one garden with the same people. Very safe. But in dreams t was opposite. I was somewhere else struggle to find my way back home. These was serial kind of dreams with very different scenarios but with same message – I struggle to get home.
After I started my studies in Riga, my life got unpredictable. I moved from one place to other, have lost in relationships and my only safety place was work and parents home. I counted once that in last 20 years I moved to 13 different places and now I living at rent apartment with number 13 on it. Coincident? I started painting right here home, were I fought I never make to get in.
When I finished this painting I give this to my best friend as present. She loved it, I couldn’t believe that, I couldn’t even look at that little house. I said “NO” to it and try to put aside. It was like an old dream what never came true, never ended happy for me.
After my partner proposal me (and I said magical word with agreement in all what will came after that..can’t wait…) deep down in my self I go trough panic and fear attacks. What if I will wake up again until get in this coziness light of family and home as symbol of safety and love?
I saw a new dream last night…. It was a festival at deep night. We were part of it – me and my boyfriend. It all happens at banks of the dark blue sea. I holding hands with my loved one and rise my ayes on the sea and saw in the middle of that, my painted house with yellow roof and light inside it. I quietly started to go there. Sea parted aside and gave me dry road to it. I go inside and saw two people there – husband and wife – both artists, musician and painter. They where so assured , so self – reliant and peaceful. I felt like I don’t belong where and went outside and get very angry that my partner didn’t fallow me. He stayed there and seemed very happy about that. It took me some time after wake up to realize that couple in home were very similar with us.
I woke up thinking about how our own fears and struggles and how it pull us away from happiness. How we “know” what we deserve but never dear to take it, even it is front of us. How we said “no” to good things, because of bad experience, and how hard is to say “yes”. In dream I went out of my dream home… In life I said “yes” and learn how leading power transform in letting go and letting self to be.
If it’s not magic, call it art.
I read about #aborigines #art and how they draw their land. How they tell their stories of dreams trough lines and ornaments. I try to put together western perceptions of #meadow with their language but it more looks like a memories about world that we already forgotten…
Do we have what it takes to make our dream world come true?
“Meadow”, acrylic on canvas, 2021, 90×65
After I finished this painting my whole world changed. I get many proposals one of them very special from man I love, others was about a jobs like an empty gift box with glittering paper around them. “Join us, we will make you happy, you just have to done this or that…” I look at my flat that suddenly filled with kids loughs, two dogs and cat and said no to almost every offer. They didn’t want to make me happy, they want to use me to fulfil their ambitions and dreams. I have mines now. I look at “Meadow”. If one painting with aborigines ornaments can change my daily routine so much without planning or something, then whats will came next….? If it’s not art, call it magic.
I fought about sketches, other professional artist do this, I know… But sketches is like a plan, strategy what you must to realize. I rather choose to let process of creation led me. I watched short videos about aborigines women’s textile painting process, they never do sketches. They dream and create new world from their dreams.
I put my canvas on sunlight and look how lights and shadows moves on it. Nature is the greatest artist. It have it all.
I wake up early Sunday morning, sneak in my studio and painting the same canvas with no sketches. I listen to “The V̲e̲lvet Unde̲rgro̲und & N̲ico Full Album 1967” and almost felt honey in my veins. This is how feels inner pease – I fought… Let that sense become my sketch.
To day smart internet cookies offer me news about Elder Eunice Napanangka Jack – National Indigenous fashion award winer for the Textile Design Award.
Congratulation the winner!!! I took it as good sign on way to my dreams.