Terrill Welch by herself - issue #8 Living Deliberately
With the exception of the occasional commission, I only create for me while following specific questions or intentions. I share work-in-progress, experimental work and finished work. I even share ideas I am thinking about exploring and then might abandon as they didn’t offering enough to continue. I share considered details about my personal life that are related to my creative process such as reference gathering or maybe a vein of study or exploration like the red line series. I like to go deep into both life and my painting process. These become the content for many of my social media posts and my newsletters. It works for me. Now, do all the paintings, experiments and explorations get into my online gallery? - No not all. Some efforts just never make “a painting”. But I find that by being transparent about my creative process it helps when art collectors are considering acquiring a $5,000 or $10,000 painting or even a tiny 8 x 10 inch $600 painting sketch. The purchasers tend to know what that painting (or maybe a similar painting) is about and the work that went into the painting’s creation. They know because they have been with me every step of the way, some for over 30 years now. For me, this is living deliberately. This is how I engage with others in the world and create the story about my life I want to tell. We all do this in our own way. We all have multiple aspects of ourselves and we choose, even if it is by not choosing, which aspects receive our acknowledgment and recognition. I mean, even my grandchildren think of me as a painter and artist first and a grandparent second. It has had to be like this because I am still working and my time with them is organized around that work, not the other way around. In fact, my artist’s work takes the lead in most aspect of my daily life and then I organize everything else around this priority.
To give you an example, every morning for days, I have made coffee and sat down to send out five personal emails about my special 65th birthday savings. My coffee is for courage as these are the most challenging of all the art market activities that I do. The only way I can do them is to limit the number of emails I send out each day and not let my bum off the seat until they are done.
I count them off to myself - “that is two, only three more to go. You can do it!”
This is living deliberately. I know what I am afraid of doing and I know it still needs to be done. Therefore, I find a way that I can get myself through it. By my second cup of coffee, the five emails have been sent and I am ready to move on to less mentally and emotionally challenging tasks. Does it ever get any easier? Not really. It is challenging to have courage and be bold on the canvas and it is challenging to have courage and be bold about finding homes for my paintings. It is work, real work! I wake up each day with a set of tasks that must be done if my art business is going to flourish…. and, for the most part, I love this work!
WHAT I HAVE BEEN PAINTING
I have this larger painting on my easel that I am working on and have it nicely roughed in. It was so warm that the oil paint became tacky after one day so I had to wait for it to dry to the touch. I am now ready to continue working on it.
While I waited, I have worked on a few small plein air paintings. The first has wonderful negative shapes…
“Trees and Shore at Oyster Bay” by Terrill Welch, 8 x 10 inch acrylic on gessobord plein air.
Artist Notes: It is midday at the end of June. There is a breeze in Oyster Bay on Mayne Island and quickly changing filtered light that make for ideal plein air painting conditions. I take it! Knowing where the sun will be in an hour and that the tide is on its way in helps to brush this fresh view lightly into place.
The second is a painting of golden plum tree on a farm of friends. It may get a couple of minor adjustments yet but likely only I will notice.
“Golden Plum in Morning Light” by Terrill Welch, 8 x 10 inch plein air acrylic on gessobord.
Artist notes: I have been to the farm many times and know that this is the tree with the sweetest golden plums. It is old enough to have witnessed many family and friends gatherings and it is the counter point it a large arbutus tree which is much grander in stature. Still, what painter can resist those curves?
The final plein air sketch is an experiment in discovering abstract shapes while painting from life. This one too might get an extra brushstroke or three. We shall see.
“Down at the Docks” by Terrill Welch, 8 x 10 inch acrylic on gessobord plein air.
Artist notes: Summer evening in mid July can be warm on the Miners Bay dock. I tucked down on the lower float and chased an otter away after setting up under the purple marten nesting box. Then I looked for colours and shapes to render in the quickly changing light.
As usual, I will hold these back for a week after this newsletter is published and then post them publicly for others to consider. Right now they are not yet in the inventory listings but you can write to me directly if you are interested and I can share the link when I have them ready to go.
WHAT I AM WATCHING
I have been intrigued as usual with how other people define and live a minimalist life. Recently, I came across this documentary that you might find interesting as well and it fits in with the theme of this issue about living deliberately.
I am curious hearing what you think.
WHAT I AM READING
“Obituary for a Quiet Life” is exactly what it says it is but I thoroughly enjoyed how the story is told and highly recommend taking a few minutes to savour what the writer has shared.
THE BITTER SOUTHERNER
WHAT HAS SOLD
These past couple of weeks this the milestone birthday special offer have exceeded my expectations. So far, over the past six weeks, ten paintings of various sizes have found homes. I decided I would give you the details in one visual below. This special 65th birthday offer that is available until September 9th and so there may be a few more paintings finding homes yet. We shall see.
Regardless, I am forever grateful to the art collectors old and new who have taken these paintings into their care for their enjoyment.
THRIVING IN PLACE UPDATE
It has been almost eight months now that I have focused on my “Thriving in Place” series so I thought I would take a moment and reflect on what I have learned.
Firstly, home is an incredible great place to be. We sometimes take part of a day for a “home holiday” and we do things like we would if we traveled to a cabin somewhere. These home holiday times are set aside and freed up from expectation. We are getting better at doing these times of “nothing” activities. Summers are a great opportunity to practice peacefully languishing around the house and yard. I will need a lot more practice if I am ever to get very good at this. 😉
Secondly, I have had a wee bit more time to go through memories and reference of past travels that have resulted in the “Morning in Paris” painting. I hope to do more of this reflection and see what it has to offer.
Thirdly, for the most part, I do not feel like I am missing out by thriving in place. I am happy to follow the travels of others and I am happy to watch shows about far away places but the longing I once felt to go places has eased over these past eight months. The more relaxed I become the more this life in this place on this small island feels just right, for now.
Fourthly, I am getting better at inviting people to come to me since I am not able to go to them. I find it an interesting reframe to consciously and deliberately extend invitation to my family, friends and art collectors to come and visit the island. I have people in our home regularly to visit and to look at paintings. This reminded me of my grandmother Mona and what summers were like at my grandparent’s farm… which reminds me of another story. Are you ready!?
MONA’S PAID PARKING
They came all summer long and into the fall, pulling trailers or hauling campers or boat. Driving slowly, past the old cabin on the river side and the barn on the field side, to pull up onto the stubby wild chamomile in front of the steps of my grandparent’s house. This was just fine because nobody ever thought of using it for herbal tea because this was where my grandmother Mona threw out the kitchen slop bucket (more formally called “grey water“ today) due to the lack of indoor plumbing.
At the sounds of a vehicle on the packed sand and gravel road to the house, grandma would peer over her horn rim glasses out of her kitchen window with her hands still in the dishwater that was held by a basin inside a sink that had a drainpipe with a bucket underneath.
“Stay here” she would say without looking at us as she dried her hands on her apron and untied it at the same time. Hanging the apron on hook at the right of the sink, she would then swing the screen door open quickly and slam it shut behind her to keep the swarms of mosquitoes out.
We knew enough to do exactly as we were told. From our chairs by the sink where my brother had been putting dishes on the drying wrack from the rinse water and I had been drying them and putting them in the cupboards, we watched out the window. My brother was only four so he had to climb up on the counter to see better. I was six and, if I stood on tips of my bare toes and pressed my arms straight with my palms on the plywood counter, I could see pretty well.
“Hello Mona!” came an overly cheery and hopeful gentlemanly call from a short stocky character getting out of his truck just as my grandparents’ old lab started to half-heartedly bark.
The truck and camper and small aluminum river boat on the trailer settled into the dust they had packed with them along the 43 km trip from town. We really couldn’t hear the rest of what was said but I could guess. It cost a dollar a day or five dollars for seven days to park in the yard over on the other side of the barn. There was to be no drinking and you were to pack out what you packed in. The outhouse was shared with everyone else on the farm but the luxury of toilet paper was provided… along with garter snakes but it was best to let them discover those on their own. If they were leaving their vehicle to camp up river then no valuables were to be left inside and grandma would keep a close eye on it but was not responsible for any thefts.
If she really liked the people who found their way down to the river and along its bank for a couple of kilometres from the turn off at the main road to her front yard, then she invited them in for homemade cake or cookies or both and coffee. There was evaporated milk, white sugar or raw honey to go with the strongest and cheapest beans for boiled coffee one could ever imagine! But they drank it… and liked it!
However, mostly “the campers” were not invited in and we were instructed to not bother them and never to go into a camper or tent by ourselves. There were very few rules at my grandparents and this was relayed in the same tone as to not to go down to the river by ourselves without a life jacket on. We knew it was for our safety even if we couldn’t figure out what we were being kept safe from happening.
I think about it now and know that my grandmother was a person who liked to visit and liked having people around. My grandfather on the other hand preferred to communicate with others only as needed and he didn’t have a need very often. Over the years, to make a little extra cash of her own and for company, my grandmother developed her summer and fall paid parking business. She was good at it and people came back year after year and some became extended family friends and we all look forward to their arrival.
Charlie and Edna were two of my favourites. They arrived with a truck and camper and a little dog that bit my ankle one time. Charlie was about 6 feet 7 inches tall and Edna had to stretch to make 4 feet and 10 inches. Both were good natured and loved to tease each other and hunt for agates along the road for miles and hours of walking when the light was just right. Us kids would scamper back and forth around them like pups and sometimes even find an agate or two. One of my favourite memories was the year we moved to our farm up river from my grandparent’s place and we had Charlie and Edna over for a dinner of garden potatoes and a moose roast with green beans, carrots and a bowl garden lettuce (that was eaten with a sprinkle of white sugar) and there a tall stack of fresh cut homemade bread that was set between mom and dad so that we didn’t eat it first before the rest of our meal. Mom was trying to get us wild, excited and roughhousing three kids on the bench behind the table to sit down and wait for things to be passed around instead of standing up and reaching. She had spoken once and now she was frowning and less than pleased. It was starting to get a little tense as my mother did not have much of a sense of humour. We were suppose to listen the first time she spoke or else. We never really knew what the “or else” was because no one tested her that far. But our imagination was very clear about the fact that it wouldn’t be good. So we became nervously quiet.
Because there was company, all three leaves were in the old wooden table that rocked on its wheels on the uneven floor. I was just thinking about how long it was going take to pass everything around when Charlie raised all six feet and seven inches of his length from where he sat at the opposite end of the table from my father. Then, with the grace of a ballerina, he leaned slightly forward and, with one leg for balance sticking out behind him, reach out his long arm past my brother Jack. Then past my little brother Mike. And then right in front of me and over to that tall stack of freshly cut homemade bread. Plucking one thick slice off the top he nimbly brought it back to his plate and sat down with a simple remark…
“If you have one foot on the floor, it is considered a legal reach.”
With big eyes, our mouths hung open in stunned silence, even the adults! Charlie picked up his table knife and began to put butter on his bread. Next, my mother’s eyes started to twinkle and she began one of her rare laughs while trying to hide it behind her hand. At this, we all burst out laughing until tears rolled down our cheeks and we were holding our stomachs. From then on in our house - a legal reach at the table was one foot on the floor and this story is told to new dinner guests to this day… all made possible because of my grandmother Mona’s paid parking entrepreneurship.
UNTIL NEXT TIME
If you enjoyed this issue, feel free to give it a thumbs up and leave a comment, if you wish. I am expecting that we might dig deeper into my story bank during the next few months. I am looking forward to this as well as more time at the easel. Already, I am finding more hours for such endeavours and we are still in the middle of summer which is our island busy time. Feels good! I am not looking forward to the disruption of getting a new septic system put in but these things are necessary. The engineer has file the plan with the health authority but we we received a quote from the installer but no timeline yet. At this point we might be looking at early September which would probably be ideal for us to be able to find something affordable on the island to rent. I will keep you posted because I think I mentioned already, that the gallery pod will need to be closed during this construction. I will still be able to fulfill online purchase request and show paintings in person during the evenings but it will be limited.
Wishing you all the best as always!
Terrill 👩🎨🎨❤️
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