Monday, February 16, 2009
I had real trouble photographing this still life - but I had fun painting it.
These five - count 'em, five! - pots of flowers were sitting on the kitchen table, waiting for me on Valentine's Day. There was a card, too, that played music. Woodreau, the little bichon, was scared to death of the card. But then, he's afraid of me when I'm wearing a hat.
I set the flowers up on the dining room table, and painted in the afternoon sun. I shot my first batch of photos last night, and finally gave up, to try again this morning. Looks like this is the best I'm going to get, in spite of all sorts of Photoshop work.
Painting a still life seems to use a different set of skills, at least in me. Everything from setting it up, to seeing it clearly, to painting it - you'd think these might just be indoor versions of the skills I've been developing outdoors, but apparently, they're not.
But then, writing a play takes a whole different set of skills than writing a news story does. Why would I think art was any different?