Bay of Plenty is a metaphor for our world as artists. It is the greater world so filled with wonder and opportunity. To be alive like this in these times is such a privilege. To be functional artists we need to be sensitized to our world. This is no time for misery. In the great cities or away on lonely inlets, we are blessed with a miracle which we dare not miss.

What is in your head while painting? In my case I find that my eyes do the Wilhelm Barns #3
acrylic painting thinking, while the other parts of the mind are on the back burner, the farther back the better. It is believed that 70% of our sensory faculties are devoted to the sense of sight. My experience shows that the more accurately and actually I see the visual order that naturally exists everywhere around us, the better my eyes 'think.'

I live in a fairly remote village in South Africa about 2 hr. from Capetown, It looks like an old Untitled
pastel painting English village, tiny thatched roof cottages, donkeys horses and cows that roam the streets but less and less as some folk in the village forget the reason for them coming here in the first place and now want all the latest developments in housing structures and amenities.

My cow is called Wall Flower as she does not eat flowers and of course is on the wall and on her own! She dresses up for all occasions in the village and has to be the most famous cow in the world and most photographed one too!

The greatest joy of living with so many cultures here is the amazing talent joy and diversity that stimulates one, it is a challenge living here but it allows us to give help and uplift the less fortunate which is not always possible in a first world country and we live better than first world folk!

To savor this beautiful land even with the struggle of "are we safe" ?, we live a different life, perhaps on the edge but there is always beauty and laughter on the faces of the people and in the landscape so life is a joy and with your thought provoking letters I have it all . I am off to do a mural in a rural village where one white lady who is starting a library she lives among the folk, she is hated and loved and I have the chance of bringing joy to the little faces with a big tree a Wise Owl who I think I will name Robert and the rest is for the kids to paint, flowers apples, bugs, and butterflies.

OK I will share. Buy one Caesar salad at the café inside Costco… keep the container Blue bonnets
watercolour painting with lid. Eat lots of premade jell-o's from the grocery store or throw them away and keep the cups. Mix the paints you use and small amounts of water inside each cup. You can store up to 5 cups of paint inside a container with the lid fitting correctly. You can even tip the whole thing at an angle to some degree with no spillage. My paints last for weeks this way!

(RG note) Thanks, Odile. An abundance of yogurt cups is the top secret killer app of the acrylic world.

How my days are spent fascinates me. Somehow in reading other people's comments on their own, brings me an inch closer to my own. I spend an hour working on one sentence. Then two hours recovering from a difficult hour with a patient in psychotherapy. Then, hah, go on line and order an on-sale tote bag; lingerie; and a sweatshirt on sale for winter, down from sixty dollars to twenty. My red wine is handy. So is our dog, Annabelle, who, when I stay up, splits time between me and Mike, my husband. She is a caring dog. Ten years old. Now I head to WORD to try a first attempt at describing the mother in law I want to include in the memoir of MY Alcoholic Marriage. Quite a woman - good and not so good. I'd need lots of yogurt cups to capture her complexity.

I had an epiphany the other day while participating in a plein air paint out. Smallish St. Simon's Mood
oil painting canvas (9 x 12) but I realized I kept mixing new piles of paint as I moved from one area to another. And each new pile was different from the last. I was moving further and further from my color plan because I became wrapped up in the composition and values. Why not, I thought, pre-mix larger piles that--because I take the time before painting to decide my color harmonies--would not only speed my painting along but also ensure that I maintain my original color harmony decisions? And, it helps. At least for the feeble-minded like me.

When I first began painting I would have a preconceived notion of what I wanted it to look like, I even had drawings ready. As the painting progressed it mysteriously changed from the original plan. This continues with every painting. It's not my voice that's doing that ... it's the voice of our Source, the creator of every wonder around us, seeping into our brains, ready to access magically when the time is right. Others may find their voices through lessons and practice - I find mine just by listening to someone else's and recognizing it as the gift it is. And being thankful every day.

Yes, I always go back to rework a painting after several days, be it oil, acrylic or Forest Path
acrylic painting watercolor. If I'm not satisfied with the progress it will most likely turn into something or get the boot. It seems more interesting to me to think on this level, I hate the word "multi tasking." Is this a sign of a disorganized mind? I find it somewhat strange myself. But variety is the spice of life… even if you catch no fish.

Many artists talk about "getting into the zone" in order to paint. Painting puts me in the zone. Reflections on a Creek
oil painting This is what I love about it. I've done transcendental meditation. Painting is the closest thing I know to TM; for me, it's another level of consciousness.

My thinking stage is generally at the approach of a painting. Here are some of the conscious thoughts that went into Reflections on a Creek. 1) Here is a landscape with water in it that I might add to my documentary series of paintings of Eastern North Carolina. 2) This swamp is kind of creepy. Better ask a friend to accompany me. 3) The great blue heron on the bank up stream is beautiful, but he will become the focal point that I don't want, if I include him in the painting.

I consider myself an alla prima painter. Stopping and starting a painting for me is like being interrupted in the process of making love. Will I be able to go there again? I hate going back into a painting. However, I do admit, getting away from it for a while, is what we often need to do in order to better see what we have [or don't have]. Reflections on a Creek was done mostly en plein air. It looked much softer before I finished it in my studio. Finishing touches and crisper detail gave it some spark.