portrait of an artist

I cannot make Art when Im in love, when Im in love I want to make love…

when Im in  Art I want to make Art..

and when I’m watching the real housewives of Atlanta I’m there….

My routine is that Saturday and sunday I work in my studio.The rest of the week I work, give portion of my wages to my landlady, save some for my monthly rent of the studio.any leftovers feed us.

Us is me and Oscar my westie…

S is my significant other.

i drink i smoke.Ive partied…

i was born in 1973

im a woman of independent means, whatever that means

sitting here in my garret its perfect, the most perfect petri dish for Liz Neal the Artist

I love painting and i started painting last weekend.my first subject matter is a silver birch forest.silver birch is symbolically representative of fertility, according to google , there is something of the horses leg

each scar cut into the fragile skin becomes bloated and crusty, dying branches branches fall leaving wounds to cauterise in the air. the trunk if you can call its spindly stalk such a thing is scarred like a teenage arm and the sad pierot and mascapone clowns

I’m searching in this mess of image for the fertility,I’m not a tree person,although if i met one i would be content to spend an evening talk ing about it. I do love trees though they’re like upside down legs growing out of the ground, and then what is the ground made of.. like dead things

listen cupcakes, i was born in the countryside and did most of my growing up there, just me and nature,with a progressive increase of human interaction…oh the people Ive met!…lol

I chose an orange bedsheets for the silver birch painting, well there was red in the dead bracken

its a complicated painting, the contrast is subtle,it has horizontal and vertical stripes and the subject matter and cropping of this image is not in any golden triangle.the ultimate issue is how to resolve the centre of the canvas.i ploughed in there after a fag and a shandy and am now pulling back with more layers.does that matter, i am also saying goodbye to the orange sheet background. i have too many issues with inanimate objects,letting go is hard

currently,more studio time would be a red light area i need work outside of being an artist. in that outside area I’m a domestic cleaner, its very fulfilling , but private

i have to now choose some other pictures to paint, a smaller edition.

my embroideries are so near to completion ,I’m thinking about framing.first thoughts John Jones. its even sexy firing off those capitol J’s. my indecision  on finalising this project is a problem. I’m experiencing all kinds of neurosis and with a fertile imagination its carnage. i want so bad to avoid drama and just get the work out, but drama makes the work…sad clown face..

by the way, my landlady is my Mum, beer is like a substitute for something real and fags are fags/ciggorellos/cheroots etc

silver birch, the high and spindly branches are maroon..i will not use black,i will make it(donald trump manifesto)..im so gonna use a tiny brush get me some detail..the play of light on dark in detail

i need to make a habit of this writing, i always start and stop, perhaps when I’m dead some handsome young thing will collate all my data

i wish there were snacks

oh yeah, dreams i lik.i like my dreams

nine of cups

 

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