Dreamland
2012
Acrylic on Canvas
18" x 18"
$550
Sarah Curl-Larson
sarahcurllarsonart.com
Facebook Page
Blog
Out of the blue, an image will pop into my head. It startles me, and then I have to examine it from all angles. I turn it around and mull it over and all the while it keeps nagging at me to just do it already. I come up with a game plan, slightly apprehensive, because by now I have it so meticulously calculated that I'm nervous that I'm going to screw it up or it just might not turn out that well after all.
I start. The base colors are the most important part of the entire process. I do the sky, blend, blend, blend, and then the ground with more sharp edges this time. Inevitably, it will not look exactly like I had it in my head, but sometimes better. Sometimes frustrated.
I work in fits and stops. I stop, stare at it for a day, and change something. Add the next piece of the game plan. Decide this thing is melting into the background and what can I do to make it pop more?
Sometimes it is just over. I look up, and the painting has told me to quit. It is done. Other times I think it might be done, but then stare at it for a day, or a week, not quite sure what it needs. It is like writing the ending of a story, always the hardest part.
When it is finished, I am excited. This particular thing is done, but now it begs for a follow up. I may have opened up an entirely new realm of subject matter, or decide to do it again, but a close up. But still, I have to wait for that next unexpected image to come popping into my head.
sarahcurllarsonart.com
Facebook Page
Blog
Out of the blue, an image will pop into my head. It startles me, and then I have to examine it from all angles. I turn it around and mull it over and all the while it keeps nagging at me to just do it already. I come up with a game plan, slightly apprehensive, because by now I have it so meticulously calculated that I'm nervous that I'm going to screw it up or it just might not turn out that well after all.
I start. The base colors are the most important part of the entire process. I do the sky, blend, blend, blend, and then the ground with more sharp edges this time. Inevitably, it will not look exactly like I had it in my head, but sometimes better. Sometimes frustrated.
I work in fits and stops. I stop, stare at it for a day, and change something. Add the next piece of the game plan. Decide this thing is melting into the background and what can I do to make it pop more?
Sometimes it is just over. I look up, and the painting has told me to quit. It is done. Other times I think it might be done, but then stare at it for a day, or a week, not quite sure what it needs. It is like writing the ending of a story, always the hardest part.
When it is finished, I am excited. This particular thing is done, but now it begs for a follow up. I may have opened up an entirely new realm of subject matter, or decide to do it again, but a close up. But still, I have to wait for that next unexpected image to come popping into my head.
