Tag: Oil

Whitby Abbey Cemetery Oil Painting By The GYPSY

The Artist Life: Technology and Art

TECHNOLOGY AND ART

Modern Technology Is A Wonderful Tool For The Artist If You Can Avoid The Gremlins.

Whitby Abbey Cemetery Oil Painting By The GYPSY

No Matter How Hard You Try Sometimes Things Don’t Go Right.

Modern Technology has been a God send for my art. Through the internet I can share my passion and creations with the world. Yet sometimes the Gremlin’s find their way into my best efforts and yank the wires that help my art fly and stay airborne. And so it was this past week.

Every Wednesday I present a FREE Painting Tutorial on Facebook live, One week I might present a watercolor tutorial, another wee acrylic and still another week an oil painting tutorial. This past Wednesday it was an oil painting tutorial and the Gremlin’s decided that they would have their fun with it.

I pre-record my tutorials so that I can go into live chat and answer any questions people may have during the live presentation. As I recorded last Wednesdays Tutorial., Whitby Abbey Cemetery, I soon discovered that it would be a long tutorial so I decided to break it down into two parts. I finished recording the creation of the painting and took it into my video editing software. Little did I know at the time that the Gremlins had already started their fiendish work.

As I was reviewing the final edited video I discovered that not only was a segment of the audio screwy but two segment of the audio were screwy. Add it that the final display of the finished painting pixelated half way through the presentation. At that point I am sure that the computer Gremlin’s were dancing with glee.

It is not like I can just go back in and re-record the tutorial. Spending another 5 hours on a painting I have already done is just not an appealing nor fun idea for me. I present these videos free for the first week after the Facebook Live presentation and the they are for sale for only $15 on the Artist Alley Studio website after that. I couldn’t very well expect people to buy a video that was not the absolute best I could present. So what could I do? Somehow I had to thwart the Gremlin’s dastardly sabotage, and I did.

I decided to make Parts One and Two of the Whitby Abbey Cemetery Oil Painting Tutorial FREE indefinitely. I would let people know of the Gremlin caused glitches and they could ignore those problems and still discover what I had to teach. I would also identify and remove the monkey wrench the Gremlins threw into my recording software and put up safeguards against their future interference.

I am happy to report that the Gremlins screamed in agony and departed to harass some other poor soul when I implemented my fixes. Now all is right with the world and you can forever have this tutorial for FREE.

We do not know whether or not the Gremlins will ever return to try and interfere with my art tutorials in the future but if they do their only reward will be that I again give you a tutorial that is FREE Forever and I am sure the Gremlins will have no satisfaction in that.

-The GYPSY-

The Arrival Revisited By The GYPSY

June 8, 1966

I SURVIVED THIS TORNADO

June 8, 1966 Burnetts Mound Topeka, Kansas

I was 10 years old and was playing on the front porch of our home with my friends. Grandma came outside with Lemonade for us children and stopped in the doorway, she was looking at the sky which had turned a sickly greenish yellow. She calmly said; “Children, let’s go have our Lemonade in the basement.” My best friend Bobby Boyce said that he had to go home. Grandma said; “Run, don’t walk. When you get home tell your parents to look outside and then go and play in your basement.”

Just as we got to the basement the sirens sounded. Grandma rushed upstairs to the second floor where she rented out 3 apartments. She got the tenants to the basement while my Mom got my dog Buster inside. We lived at 7th and Western, 4 blocks from downtown. When mom opened the outside basement door to let Buster in it sounded like a freight train.

As we huddled in the corner Grandma and Mom kept us children calm. They turned up the radio to drown out the outside noise. We listened to a reporter out at Ballard Airport describing the planes being flipped over.

When the all clear sounded Mom escorted my friend’s home. Grandma, who was the Manager of Pelletier’s Department store walked downtown to assess the damage from the storm and to see if the store needed to be secured. One of the tenants, a girl in her mid twenties, walked downtown to sight see against my Grandmas advise, and ended up being the first injury recorded at Stormont-Vail when she ended up stepping on a nail and driving it up through her foot.

In the days following the Tornado Mom, who was a PBX Operator working for an answering service over by Washburn University, put in long hours coordinating emergency calls for Doctors and emergency personnel. National Guard Troops escorted her through the devastation daily as she walked to and from work.
Grandma coordinated food and clothing drives through our church, First Church of the Nazarene. She also worked soup lines with the Red Cross and she urged other Pelletier’s employees to do the same thing.

Before the Tornado I had been taking Saturday Morning art classes at the Mulvane Art Gallery at Washburn University. But now that the roof of the Mulvane was parked in the parking lot our classes were moved to homes of the instructors. I still remember the unearthly feeling of walking to my art classes and seeing what had been being no more.

Our house did receive damage. A maple leaf blew through a storm window in the exact shape of the leaf. Our home got listed as the house that had received the least amount of storm damage. Grandma kept the piece of glass, leaf and article in a frame for years.

I do not think that there was one living soul who was a resident of Topeka at that time that was not touched by this monster in one way or another. I thank the Lord for those that survived and pray that he took those who didn’t into his Kingdom that day.

The days that followed were life changing for me. For the first time in my life I truly understood beauty from ugliness, calm from turmoil and peace from horror. My art in the days that followed reflected this. Even now, all these years later I see things in a different way and it translates into my art.

I have a healthy respect for the forces of nature and never take each day or moment for granted.

-The GYPSY-

“Art Must Evoke An Emotion In Order To Be Art. If It Only Evokes Indifference It Is Not Art It Is Garbage.”

End Of The Green: College Of Crows - Oil Painting By The GYPSY

The Artist Life: Topeka Spring Eve

Daffodils and Peonies lift up their scent from the garden below

Through the window their fragrance drifts poignant and ever slow

The sun settles towards the west drawing with it the last light

Shadows creep across the floor chasing the day from our sight

 

Soft breeze rustles the blinds, music swaying the slats and cord

Wood grain trails from wall to wall changing with each board

Mindless chatter touches the dusty air around the empty time

Coffee, tea and laughter fight on the screens electric vertical line

 

Images fade to a small gray dot as the oak box is shut off

Cracking, popping its protest as I exit the door of the loft

New leaves wave as I pass under their light green ceiling

Young grass dances upon the walkway blind and unfeeling

 

Houses of white, gray board and brick fade behind a tree

Structures of granite, marble, and stone loom ahead of me

Car radio blares out Broadway, a street in a city far away

As I step upon broad Kansas a street in this city today

 

Light glows green, mocking the color of Topeka’s Capitol dome

Autos suddenly stop their engines belching protest as I roam

Lines in a sidewalk try to jump forth and break my mom’s back

I dodge and weave counting steps so I may avoid each evil crack

 

Old people stare at women where men browse and children play

Searching for the news, fiction or just a thing too important to say

The smell of tomes, newsprint, candles, candy, ink old and stale

Fills the fluorescent glow of the interior where the world is for sale

 

Casper, Superman, Batman and Wendy reach to me from the rack

Richie Rich, Mighty Mouse, Flash and Spooky beg me from the stack

I flip the pages as the four colors explode into tempting allure

Nightmare, Green Lantern, Black Hawk, or Dot I’m just not sure

 

My choices are made held secure and close to my heart within one arm

The rest returned to their slant seat awaiting for the next soul to charm

Silvery coin to clerk, butterscotch stick in mouth I leave with my treasure

Turning towards home I direct my step anticipating hours of pleasure

 

The red and white machine looms ahead wherein the green bottle lies

Dime in the slot, Twist of the handle to hear the slide and out it flies

Cap popped off as the fizz escapes and tiny bubbles fill the dusky sky

Icy cold the syrupy liquid sharp and sweet burns the throat till I cry

 

In one hand the bottle kept intact for the two pennies it has earned

In the other hand the magic paper whose pages wait to be turned

Red sky turns purple as blue lights high above hum to dull glow

The cobbled walk tries to trip my step as it leads me home too slow

 

Upon my porch the round orb above casts it’s yellow and hazy light

As moths and their cousins dance and swarm within their endless flight

The brown, rusty springs stretch on the end of the porch swing chain

Screaming their protest as my weight settles in  the seat that I claim

 

Lost with Uncle Scrooge, Huey, Dewey and Louie within a vault

I sail away until mother calls me to bed, until tomorrow I shall halt

But upon the sunny morning I shall again be whisked far and away

As Hot Stuff, Green Arrow and Lottie jump forth and ask me to play

 

And when the magic has been used up within the pages faint and torn

Again shall I visit the World News Stand where my mind can be reborn

-The GYPSY-

The Scent Of Lilacs Oil Painting By The GYPSY

The Artist Life: The Scent Of Lilacs

Drifting on the breeze
A scent that puts my soul at ease
Lilac fragrance fills the air
Triggering memories of time without care

Delicate blossoms on the sprig
Not long they’ll last what joy they bring
One bush here another there
Signals of spring sight and smell to share

Grandpa loved the flower
In it’s color there laid such power
When I was just a child
The bush he planted grew so wild

Outside my bedroom window
The bush would bloom and ever grow
Never again to be shorn
As each spring its scent would be reborn

Now my paint brush
Tries to capture the fragrant rush
Of my own Lilac bouquet
Whose color and scent hold me sway

And when the canvas
Has taken my color within each crevasse
Then the scent of Lilac
Will be captured and kept intact

And I will have painted
Pure nature, perfect in essence and untainted

A scent that puts my soul at ease
Lilac fragrance fills the air
Triggering memories of time without care

Delicate blossoms on the sprig
Not long they’ll last what joy they bring
One bush here another there
Signals of spring sight and smell to share

Grandpa loved the flower
In it’s color there laid such power
When I was just a child
The bush he planted grew so wild

Outside my bedroom window
The bush would bloom and ever grow
Never again to be shorn
As each spring its scent would be reborn

Now my paint brush
Tries to capture the fragrant rush
Of my own Lilac bouquet
Whose color and scent hold me sway

And when the canvas
Has taken my color within each crevasse
Then the scent of Lilac
Will be captured and kept intact

And I will have painted
Pure nature, perfect in essence and untainted

Before The Storm Oil On Canvas Board By The GYPSY

Anatomy of a Painting: Before The Storm

“Before The Storm”

By Romani American Artist J.A. George AKA; The GYPSY 16″ x 20″ Oil on Canvas Board.

A Throwback Thursday offering. This painting from 2006 was my first attempt at painting a seascape. I had always shied away from seascapes but on this particular day I was feeling adventuresome.
I originally had not intended to make the clouds so bold and dramatic but as I started layering them I could not help myself. The sea was originally calm with gentle waves but with the boldness of the clouds I could feel the approaching storm. To offset the drama of the clouds I gave the water it’s own boldness as it rolled in “Before The Storm”.
I do a Christmas giveaway every year of one of my paintings and this one went to a sweet lady in Coffeyville, Oklahoma who had some health issue. She said of the painting, “I feel like I am the sea and once I get to shore I will be calm. This painting makes me feel peaceful.”
-The GYPSY-

Sealion Women and Mermaids Doing Autopsies on Things While The Bad Ass in the Corner Looks On - Oil Painting By The GYPSY

The Artists Life: Sea Lion Women and Mermaids Doing Autopsies on Things as the Bad Ass in the Corner Looks On.

The Artists Life

“Sean Lion Women and Mermaids Doing Autopsies on Things as the Bad Ass in the Corner Looks On.” By: J. A. George AKA; The GYPSY was inspired by the writings of artist Baroness Ampersand and the sinking of the Titanic.
 
Inspirations From A Baroness
 
My friend, artist Jana Jones AKA; The Baroness Ampersand has a way with not only the tip of a brush but with the written word. She paints with vivid color in both mediums visual and literary. I sit fascinated and enthralled by all she writes because she writes of The Artists Life, as she calls it and which we now carry on with our art blogs. I understand her ramblings and can relate to the depth of the soul from which they pour for I live the Artists Life daily.
 
Understanding her metaphors and similes (is that redundant?), is like deciphering a foreign language for the beginning student unless of course you are fluent in that language. Which I am! For so long I did not use that language, then one day I discovered Jana and rediscovered my artists tongue. So long unused I, at first, stumbled over the phrases, words and inflections. But I am again becoming fluent with that language of cryptic images and layered meanings.
 
I slowly fell out of use with the language during my relationship with my first wife. She could not understand and thought that it was crazy that I insisted that she not talk with me when I was creating. My concentration was such at the time that any disturbance killed the soul of my work. She was not an artist, she did not understand. Over time my art took a back seat to the desires of my penis. My brushes and pencils laid virtually untouched for years. Once in awhile I would pick them up, brushing off the dust and cobwebs but the passion was gone and I had forgot the language and they would, before long lay again untouched.
 
Oh if she had just understood and had not suppressed the language what art I could have made. She was an exotic dancer and was art in motion what paintings I could have created, what magic would have been revealed upon the canvas. But alas she had no understanding and I allowed her to engulf me in her desires instead of my own. After twelve years her needs became more than I could fulfill and she, like the Succubus she is, left me to drain a new victim.
 
As I began to recover and was starting to rediscover the language I fell prey to another Succubus. This one envisioned herself an artist, a decorator if you will, but never understood that lime green and burgundy are not complimentary colors. She continued the draining the first demon had begun and I started to shrivel and my soul started to wane. She drank and drank until I had no more to give. She drained my emotion, she drained my passion, she drained my bank account and when all was drained that she could drain she left me, as the first one had, for her new victim.
 
Oh, I fought her, I strived in numerous ways to regain the language, I did not succumb easily but in the end I lost the battle. I knew I had lost the battle the day she said, I feel nothing when you touch me. Her draining was complete. She left me with, I was looking for a good father for my children and I at least accomplished that. Used, abused and thrown away I lay crumpled, broken, drained. The language was, or so it seemed, forever lost to me.
 
Enter the next moment in my Artist Life; Debbie. One day Debbie said to me, I wish I could paint. With those words the lock was turned within the door that held her artists soul. That door was flung wide and Debbie discovered, more and more, her own artists soul. Yet the day came when Debbie had no more use for me and tossed me aside like an old rag used to clean the paint off your brush. I was old, worn, tattered and of no further use to her.
 
I was crushed, my artist soul wounded and in danger of being lost forever then into my life stepped a true artist that had suffered similar triumphs and defeats as I had, someone that understood the Artist Life struggle; Raychel AKA; Mad Hatter. Being a caring beautiful Native Queen she took pity upon this poor peasant nursed and healed me at a time when I felt I was forever lost. Though neither her nor I knew it at the time, she as an artist, nourished me with her artistic soul. She fed me small amounts so that I would not become greedy and engorge myself and slowly I gained strength and started to again understand the passion and language I had lost.
 
As Mad Hatter breathed life back into my artists soul Jana reminded me of my native tongue. And in reminding me of that language so long forgotten she has struck up, within me, inspiration with her words. One example has already come to fruition and started with this phrase;
 
“A series of narrow doors, painted green, still line the side of the building, and if you don’t look too closely you can see the whores leaning on the door frames, smoking Lucky Strikes, back lit by the dim light of the interiors, calling out into what was an alleyway.”
 
This phrase from a writing of Jana’s inspired my painting “Whores In The Alley Smoking Their Lucky Strikes.”
 
Musings by Jana are the inspiration for two works I will be completing in the near future and one already completed derived from the same writing;
 
“Miss America contest, circa 1950, when it actually meant something and I thought about Mermaids and Sea Lion Women, and wondered where they must live, in the ocean. – I also thought of my father he is the bad ass sitting in the corner, waiting for somebody to fuck up. – And I imagined two Sea Lion Women, pecking at the drama because they like to perform autopsies on things.”
 
These phrases led to a work that I had, within my mind, “Sea Lion Women and Mermaids Performing Autopsies On Things As The Bad Ass In The Corner Looks On.” It took over a year to complete the painting. I kept getting blocked; my mind would not communicate with my hand and I could proceed no further. Outside of Jana’s phrases of inspiration I was missing the key element that would bring the work together. That element was found when I visited the Titanic Museum in Branson, Missouri.
 
The next inspiration came from one of Jana’s writings in which she states;
 
“The local Madame DeFarge laughs and knits.”
 
When I show off my knowledge of Dickens Literature with a follow-up comment soaked in metaphors from “A Tale of Two Cities” Jana shoots back with;
 
“GYPSY I wonder if you will paint a Madame DeFarge, knitting and laughing wickedly. Don’t give her red hair. But hopefully, you’ll paint black tights with a little hole in them, on her legs.”
 
This has inspired a future work which is bouncing around in my head as “Madame DeFarge Laughs and Knits as Madame Guillotine Sings.” I find black tattered tights sexy so they will somehow be included in the work and whether or not the antagonistic Madame DeFarge has red hair remains to be seen.
 
Last at the moment, but certainly not least is a inspiration derived from a quote in one of Jana’s writings today. It seems as though the Baroness Ampersand has lost a very dear friend whose pleasant memory is a piece of her artistic soul. The memory and force of the loss is evident within the writing as you read the cryptic passage from her past;
 
“I’d read a book during that time that talked about The Third Reich’s entry into France . The title to the book was, Is Paris Burning? I don’t remember the contents of the book, except for one particular fact. Hitler called his general every day and asked the same question, until he got the answer yes. Is Paris burning? And I linked the three questions in my head, at the time. Every day when The Art Teacher asked, Are you still a virgin? Have you been in his bed? I would answer, Is Paris burning?”
 
The work that is even now germinating in my head will simply be called, “Is Paris Burning.”
 
Mad Hatter breathed life back into my artistic soul and Jana breathed life back into my work. Neither of these women set out to intentionally help me to rediscover my artists tongue but just by their words and actions both have helped me to rediscover the passion that lies within the language of the “Artists Life.”
 
Who knows what future inspiration they will give birth to within my fertile soul but I anxiously await that next rush of creative erection that will climax in what I refer to as “A Mental Ejaculation Spewing Forth Creative Juices.” Thank you for the artistic ménage trios Ladies you both leave me spent and satisfied!
 
-The GYPSY-
“Art must evoke an emotion in order to be art. If it only creates indifference then it is not art, it is garbage!”
 

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Landscape Commissions

Landscape Commissions Available

LANDSCAPE COMMISSIONS AVAILABLE

Redecorating Your Office or Home? Have A Favorite Landscape Photo That You Would Like As A Painting? Do You Have A Vision Of Your Perfect Place? Then Allow One Of America’s Favorite Artists J.A. George AKA; The GYPSY To Bring Your Vison To Life By Creating A One Of A Kind Landscape Painting For You.

CONTACT THE GYPSY TODAY FOR MORE INFO:
(785) 571-9500 – ArtistAlleyStudio@gmail.com
Paint On Print

Paint On Print

Paint On Print By J.A. George AKA; The GYPSY

Paint On Print is a hybrid between an original oil or acrylic artwork and a canvas print. I order one of my oil or acrylic based prints on gallery stretched canvas. I then paint over sections of it with a lot of paint.

Each one of these Limited Editions Print On Paint pieces becomes a variation of the original work of art. It is my way to offer you an Acrylic or Oil variation of my original painting after the original has sold.

Paint On Print is not available for hand drawn art or watercolors. As a piece of Art comes available for Paint On Print it will be listed. Each Paint On Print is unique and comes with a certificate of authenticity.

-The GYPSY-


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