Greetings,

 

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.  We didn't get the storm we were promised.  I love those kind of broken promises :)

 

I am heading toward a show date:  February 15th, Iowa Memorial Union Gallery,  (on campus at Iowa State University, Ames, Iowa) 30 paintings.  Hunh.  Just watch me.  And here's one of the most recent that will be loaded into the art-van soon:

 

  High Heel Attitude, an acrylic painting on a big (really big) canvas, as in 40 x 40 inches.  Yes, it's in my portfolio. I will possibly give you that link shortly, but you could also just go to the menu bar and click on portfolio ---at this time of night, it might be faster.

 

Yawn.  Later,

KC

 

Oh.  And have I remembered to tell you?  The exhibit of my paintings at ISU is being called "Living Relaxed"

Greetings, 

 

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.

 

Did you read that title?  Aach!  Another artistic voice stifled. Oh, the tyranny of it all!

 

Wait!

I have three important things to say:

 

1)  Stay focused, so you don't walk off and leave your acrylic paint palette uncovered :)

2)  Have a spouse who when you DON'T stay focused, and you end up trying to scrape the mess off, WISELY interjects  "why don't you just THROW AWAY THE PALETTE and get a new one?!

3)  Take the daily headlines (er, the title line) with a grain of salt.

 

So supposedly there's a blizzard heading for central Iowa.  What a great day to have an in-house studio, complete with a new palette to squeeze nice fresh paint onto...

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

 

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.

 

What did we do before Google?  Or it's less-quick-off-the-tongue-counterparts?  Seriously, what did we do?  How did we find things?   and worse yet, how long did it take?

 

Let me outline the search of the evening:

 

Wanted:  a barely running school bus, preferably a short bus, preferably currently residing somewhere in central Iowa.  Preferably cheap.  Hey, we can even set up a trade:  donate a short bus, and we'll get you a week's worth of free advertising during the last full week of July.  Let's see how many follow along on that line - because any biking aficionado will know the last full weekend in July is RAGBRAI week...

 

And now you'd like the rest of the story?  Here goes:  Jefferson, Iowa will be hosting the (brace yourself) IOWA BICYCLE FESTIVAL!  We will be festival-ing on May 26th, all over the town square of Jefferson, Iowa. 

 

All things bicycle.  And to the state that hosts RAGBRAI, you know that's a lot.  We are having a bicycle parade, featuring nothing less than (we hope) a whole bunch of RAGBRAI buses and their crazy team people.  And after the parade, and everybody gets back to the town square, we need a bus to paint, in somebody's team colors, and then auction off.  Possibly we'll need to bribe someone to haul it off.  Whichever.  Guaranteed fun.  But we have to find a bus.

 

And so what did we google?  Iowa salvage yards.

 

That's what our generations have been reduced to, you know.  If you need something, just google it.  Need a painting?  Yeah, you can google that too. 

 

But here's something we need to explain to salvage yards:  if you want somebody to google you, so you can sell them a bus, you gotta give them the info.  How many buses do you have in stock?  Big buses, little buses?  With tires, or without?  What's the price?  What's your phone number?

 

Now being artists who like to sell paintings, we all know that kind of stuff.  We always give the info for the google searchers.  We always have a great online portfolio showing all our available paintings.  We definitely state what size those paintings are, big AND little.  And we certainly do state whether they come with frames or without.  And the price, absolutely, it's right there under the painting.  And a phone number?   But of course we give them that bit of info as well!  Right on our ever-so-perfect-website.

 

Umm, we do, don't we?

 

Just checking :)

 

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

 

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa, where I've just finished re-reading the article by Matthew Daub "Making Your Mark" speaking to individual artistic style.

 

The analogy he used is not all that esthetically pleasing to me, but here goes:  he compared artistic originality and personal style to dogs "marking" their territory.  Hunh.

 

Big Dog.  The mental picture of my golden retriever art causing the neighborhood fluffy-white-yapper art to shake in fear --- yeah, I couldn't quite fix that one firmly in place in my imaging process, but can you follow along anyway?

 

Since most of us have seen doggies in action, we know that when the top dog goes in for his nap, there will be an adventurer or two who come in to inspect TopDog's territory and try to leave a mark of their own.  Kind of like copying his work.  So goes life.

 

I try to stay current with other artists at the Art Fair Insiders site, and think this discussion takes place there frequently - but on the flip-flop (the reverse) the growling "I own this patch of lawn" point of view.  "I'm the BIGDOG in this town, quit copying me."  To the point that they want art fair directors to chase out (er - remove from the show) the copy cats.

 

Oh.  Wait.

 

Did I just say "cats" in an article about the TopDog?  What a confused world we live in.  TopDogs.  CopyCats.  My art.  Copied art.  Sheesh.  What's an artist to do?

 

 

We all know that as artists we learn from those who've gone before us.  No sense in reinventing the wheel and all that.  But I also encourage you to remember that no two snowflakes are alike.  Wait:  now we've got snowflakes?  Dogs, cats, snowflakes, artists?  This is way confusing.

 

I think we need to pull out the key phrase from Mr. Daub's article, and consider it mandatory for us to re-read this morning :

 

"Being aware that an artist's work, ideally, should be as unique as the artist's own DNA, encourages us to hone our approach and sharpen our point of view."

 

Isn't that just the politically correct way of telling an artist, or an artist wanna-be, that if their work looks like somebody/everybody else's work that they are losers?  Isn't it saying we need to dig a little deeper, past the thought of this is a popular (common) look and will likely sell well?  That if what we are creating, looks like what some other DNA holder creates, we are probably doing something wrong?

 

I think this is the root problem of the discussion I mentioned frequently happening over at Art Fair Insiders:

 

(1)  copying what's popular, what's in the headlines, what the top dollar winner is doing, really just keeps you from working at your own voice and the potential there in

 

(2)  pacing the fence line and growling/snapping at all those from the above paragraph (1), is futile as well.  and it's just another distraction from the "sharpening our point of view" process.

 

I think the big dog, the top dog, has to have an attitude above and beyond all of that.  BigDog focuses on the art, and the next painting.  The next step, and the next possibility.  Worrying about territory lines is a time-consuming thing, and therefore a losing proposition.

 

Sure, we all want to be BigDog and own the lawn.  I'm thinking the only way to do that, is to create in the style of the individual you are.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

 

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.  Cooper - the - youngest just called home from Colorado.  He was biking.  WHAT?!!! we said, as our thermometer shudders along at 5 degrees.  Yeah, heheheh, sorry Mom, it's 58 here.

 

The pleasantest thing.  That is the title of this post, you noticed.  And as I polished off the painting of the same title, it occurred to me.  Every year at this time, as our Iowa thermometer skids to bone (at least mine!) chilling lows, I start imagining things. 

 

I imagine the pleasantest things

 

- sunshine

- warm breezes

- flip flops, no turtlenecks

- gardens growing

- lawn chairs with a glass of iced tea and a library book

- the bird bath in my backyard NOT frozen

- going without a coat.  And gloves.  And hat.

 

People often ask if I paint from "real life" and I always come back with a big, old positive "Sure!" 

 

But am I being deceitful to pretend my January-February painting episodes, where I paint imaginary things, don't really happen?  Is it wrong of me to gloss over the reality of the months of January and February --- when I have to pump up the sunshine value on everything I paint?  Inject warm breezes (or at least the impression thereof) onto every canvas?  Ignore the "real life" of a frozen bird bath outside my studio window and opt for the memories of my flip flopped feet stretched out in front of a lawn chair while I squeeze a chunk of lemon into my glass of iced tea?

 

I have an artist friend who paints the most amazingly beautiful snow.  But I don't want to.  I like yellow (cad yellow deep, like as sunshine yellow) way more than white.  And despite what you say, and despite what lurks outside my Iowa studio at this time of year, I have a good summer style imagination and I will use it.

 

Somehow, I, who have never attempted to memorize poetry-anything, can recite Robert Louis Stevenson's poem The Swing, without even trying hard.  I would guess it has something to do with that phrase " the pleasantest thing".  Up in the air, and over the wall, till I can see so wide,  rivers, and trees and cattle and all, over the countryside--  And then you get to look down on the garden green.  Hunh!  How much better can it get?

 

So I'm telling you:  if what comes from my paint brush at this time of year, looks like it needs a little reality check, well, that's just the way it's going to be.  Sometimes when a fan of warm breezes and sunshine gets hit in the face with a dose of January, remembering the pleasantest things from the summer previous is good.  And so here's the painting:

 

 

   The Pleasantest Thing, an acrylic painting on a canvas panel, matted to 20 x 20 inches. 

 

And yes, I've already loaded it into my website portfolio, which for your viewing pleasure has a zoom feature, that comes in ever so handy.  Be my guest, and go take a look:  painting portfolio  (click on that painting portfolio) and when you get there:  the zoom feature?  just click on the painting image you want to see larger.  Enjoy. And thanks for stopping by.

 

Later, Cooper

 

(oh, and if you need a poetry link:  http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-swing/ )

 

 

Greetings,                                                                                                                                                                               

 

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.  Considering it's 48 degrees in Jefferson today, I walked to the library - can't pass up an opportunity like that - three days from tomorrow it could be subzero and freezing rain.  Enjoy the balmy, I say. 

 

As I walked, I couldn't help but notice the train whistles.  And yes, I have written about trains before.  They are kind of intriguing - just think about the sheer mass of the things!  I'm certain I've mentioned this before, but Jefferson, Iowa is on the Union Pacific Line that runs east coast to west coast across our country.  A double track in fact, so that when I heard whistles on my walk north to the library, they were double whistles, one from the east, one coming from the west.

 

Now before you imagine that I notice trains too much, I'd like to remind you of a few things:

 

  1.  What do you call a project where the person in charge makes every mistake imaginable?

       Answer:  a train wreck

  2.  What's often said about someone who is so clever and productive in their work, that their career is definitely upwardly mobile?

       does the phrase "on the fast train to success" come to mind?

 

See, other people think about trains as well.  So it's probably not all that unusual that when walking toward the library and hearing double train whistles, it immediately brought to mind a mental picture. One of being at the crossing in my car, the lights and bells turning on, the barricades dropping down, and two of the beasts meeting right in front of me, one going east, one going west.  What are the odds of the actuality of that mental picture really happening?  One in a million say you?  You err.  I've seen it many times.  But then again, there are a lot of trains on those two sets of rails.

 

Kind of like people creating/exhibiting art, and people looking at art being created/exhibited.  Hunh.  You knew I was going there, didn't you?  Clever. 

 

What are the odds that YOU are the creator of a piece of art, and you are showing it, and someone who likes to look at art  (YOUR ART!)  meet at just the right place?

 

Hmmm...

 

1.  there have to be a lot of trains - wait - I mean art.  Trains roll down those UP tracks as often as every fifteen minutes.  Back in art speak, that's a lot of paintings.  Your studio better be a happening place, more than just weekends.

 

2. and there's that double whistle thing too - kind of like communication between you-the-artist and your favorite patron.  Maybe letting them know you're still rolling down the track, and setting up a place to meet them isn't such a crazy idea.

 

3.  and then there's the organization of the whole thing.  How on earth do you think those trains meet on opposite tracks (a successful meeting) rather than totally messing it up on the same track?  Someone is organized.  You've got to be in the right place at the right time.  And your paintings do as well. 

 

The right place at the right time. You with your art, and the people who love your art.  Getting on the right track, having a good meeting, with all the bells and whistles.  It can happen.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

Later, Cooper

 

written 1 9 2012

 

 

Greetings,

 

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.

 

Now that we've all read several outstanding articles about the new year:

 

- preparing for the new year

- forecasts for the new year

- goals for the new year

- resolutions for the new year

 

I would like to take a minute and share a thought about the old year.  You know, 2011.

 

- WouldaCouldaShoulda

- arm-chair quarter backing

- hindsight with 20/20 vision

- remorse with a capital R about things you didn't get done

 

Are you an artist reading this?  And was the same painting on your easel 12/31/2011 as was 01/01/2012?  As in the last day of the old year and the first day of the new year?  And did that excellent body of work get completed before 2012 showed it's face?  Or maybe it's ongoing and ongoing is good?  You know, some things are just meant to carry on.  Continue forward.  But they usually have a common character:  they are positives. 

 

And while we're using the P word, have you notice how all those new year's resolutions-goals-plans-etc are POSITIVES?  (And of course all the logical folk out there are raising their eyebrows and murmuring "who's dumb enough to make a negative goal?")  Right.

 

But what about WouldaCouldaShoulda?  What DO we do with that critter?  Those resolutions lost?  The plans unaccomplished?  The goals not met?

 

 #1, we certainly don't let them overwhelm us, and wreck the next three weeks time in the studio.  But then Auld Lang Syne and all of that - we shouldn't just pretend they never happened either. 

 

I think there's an ongoing role for them called guidance.  If we use those 2011 goals not met (yet!) in small doses, surely they still bear some merit for direction in 2012.  If we take that canvas that we WouldaCouldaShoulda done differently out on rare occasions and gaze upon it momentarily, surely we can gain a bit of insight to future paint brush action?

 

Am I suggesting WouldaCouldaShoulda is not necessarily a case of Bah Humbug after all?  Sure, why not.  Keep it in small doses.  Maybe just a little bit of looking back will propel you forward in the exact direction you were meant to go.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

 

Later, Cooper

 

 

Greetings,

 

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa, where I have decided, that today we should talk about seeing.  Or maybe I mean vision.  Or maybe just another kind of understanding...  Wow.  I'm already confused, how about you?

 

I had the good old 20-20 kind of un-aided vision up until the clock turned 40-something.  I was good with "reading glasses" for quite awhile after that.  Last spring I made my regular visit to the ophthalmologist and he threatened to take away my drivers license (not really) if I didn't get the prescription (that I'd been carrying around in my billfold for two years) for REAL glasses filled.  Does "no-line bifocals" strike accord with you?  Dios mio.  After THAT little get acquainted period, I now get up every morning and put them on--it just makes life easier.

 

Okay, at this point, I will remind you this is an art blog.  And artists do like to be able to see. 

 

But here's something to think about:  sometimes as artists, do we try to see it all?  And end up seeing more than we need? Is it possible to overwhelm the piece of art we are working on with too much information?

 

too many focuses

too many objects

too many details

too tight of brush work because of too many details

Too Much Information.

 

Supposedly Ludwig Mies van der Rohe first said "less is more".  No matter if that supposition is true or just assumed, it's the phrase itself that needs to be basic stuff for the artist.  Simplify.  What a concept.

 

The two little circles of glass some of us put on our face each morning?  I said it up there at the end of the second paragraph:

 

"it just makes life easier"    And with it the painting.  As long as we don't put it all into one piece of work...

 

Later, Cooper

 

 

Greetings,

 

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa, where we've had a bit of a change.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.  But undoubtedly, you'd rather talk about BIG, right?  That IS why I put it in the title, so let's get started.

 

Big is kind of a cool word.  Usually.  "Big is better", we are told.  You can be a "big fish in a small pond".  You could also be a "big wig", hey, even in the "big apple".  Being a "big cheese" used to be an impressive status, but I think that one has lately been demoted.  We've got your basic "big deal", "big easy", and "big head".  (yes, we wonder about the status of the latter in that group as well)  Let's not forget the ever impressive "big dog".  (nothing canine there, I'm sure)  And by now, you are dying to ask "where on earth is this line of thinking going, puh-leeze?"

 

-One of North America's Tallest Double-Track Railroad Bridges-

-which is more than 2,800 feet long and 190 feet high-

-the new Kate Shelley Bridge in Iowa spanning the Des Moines River-

 

I live near that bridge.  And I can assure you someone was thinking big.  REALLY big.  You have to drive up over a ridge to get there.  When you top the ridge - well, I can guarantee breathtaking.  And trust me, topping the ridge gets you nowhere in height comparison to the bridge in front of you.  Look:

 

 

Did you note the big red truck driving up the road toward you?  I guess big can be relative, as well. 

 

However, are we in agreement on this?  That someone was thinking really big when this thing was built?  And are you wondering why it looks like there are two bridges there?  Because someone thought big twice.  Wow.  What a concept.  (a link for more info)

 

Maybe it's because the calendar says December 15th.  Possibly it's the bit of change I mentioned in the first of this rambling.  There's also a chance that it's because I just finished unpacking the van from the last art show of the season.  But ideas are starting to roll around the thought process.  And dare I use the "b" word?  Okay.  Yup - some of the ideas are big.  Maybe not as honkin' big as the physicality of that bridge, but as artist ideas go - BIG.  We'll see how this thing plays out.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

 

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.  It snowed in Jefferson this past weekend, therefore I posted an image of a Florida beach house on my facebook image.  Surely you can follow that train of thought, can't you?  The beach house has a stunning red roof, and the nearby water is a lovely (non-frozen) blue.  The sidewalk between my house in Jefferson and the library???--not so much like that.  But it was too slick to run this morning, which meant the alternative was a good brisk walk--oh yeah, that's what I got.  Why didn't someone tell me the wind was kicking like that?  Sheesh.

 

But the subject du jour is library.  Believe it or not, I got this post halfway written a couple of months ago, Vet's Day to be exact, and since libraries are good at any space on the calendar, I continue now.

 

And here's my confession:  I am a library junkie.  I was concerned that possibly I was a bit (ahem) weird in that way, but a moment this past Veteran's Day eliminated that thought.  At least in Jefferson, Iowa.  Possibly this town is the library junkie capital of the world?

 

Jefferson's public library is actually two buildings, one old, and one built more recently, with a long entry room connecting the two.  The long entry room has doors and windows on both the north and south sides.  I suppose because of Vet's Day, the school kids had the day off, so at just a few minutes until one when the library was scheduled to open for the afternoon, there were about a dozen of them lined up outside the south door.  The parking lot and the bike rack  (required by my mode of transportation for that day) are on the north side of the building, so I pedaled around there.  Whoa.  There were even more people lined up there.

 

 

Enter the library lady with her golden key to let us all in to those halls of book-filling knowledge.  Ha!  She opened the north door first.  But as I was close to the end of that line, I couldn't help but notice the kids about ran over that poor librarian as she opened the south door.  So eager for those books--is this town weird, or what?

 

On the outside of the older building, up near the roof line, are painted banners filled with quotes from notable people, about the value of a good book.  Among them:

 

"Life happened because I turned the pages"  Alberto Manguel

"The only way to do all the things you'd like to do is read"  Tom Clancy

"The more you read, the more things you will know, the more that you learn, the more places you'll go"  Dr Seuss

 

While my favorite books in the studio tend to be oversized, and filled with full color images, preferably created by people like Auguste Renoir and Berthe Morisot, I also take those three thoughts from the previous paragraph seriously, and consider them to be quite true in gathering books with lots of text. 

 

This past weekend was Thieves Art Market at Iowa City, Iowa, and always the last art exhibit I participate in each year.  It means winter is definitely here, and we'll soon be thinking about the next season, and what books can I open in the studio this winter to give me inspiration?  To learn from?  To expand those horizons? 

 

I am a library junkie, and what better season than winter to turn a few pages in a good book.

 

Later, Cooper