You Say Tomato…. I See a Painting

Yellow tomatoes are turning up in the farmers’ markets here. Before getting wisked away and guillotined into a sandwich, this one made it into the studio.

Tomato Parasol 8 x 10 oil/panel

It sidled in next to an old, brown apothecary bottle that was rescued from the back of a cabinet where  reverse size places relegated it to status of invisible. It’s good to clean forbidden and frightening areas of the kitchen every few years.

I was trying for a ” study ” here, rather than a finished piece and taking the advice of admired artists Theresa Rankin, Mike Rooney and non-artist, my husband, who has also been encouraging me to ” just paint ” and not anguish over each canvas as though it was making its’ debut at the Jeu du Paume ( he didn’t say that, I did ).

Getting the reflections on the brown glass was a challenge. Doing it in one sitting, or standing, was my goal. And the tomato- well, it was a little ” dice-y”.

Almost as soon as I cleared the area, one of the studio assistants occupied the void.

Life, still.   5.5 lbs, on drape

Everyone has a recommended way of cleaning and storing brushes after painting. This seems to work very effectively:

I read about this method on Carol Marines‘ fabulous blog ( the queen of still life ) and tried it. After cleaning in solvent of your preference, I use OMS, and then follow with a washing in water and ” B&J Brush Cleaner, a white paste in a small jar, I gently squeeze the excess moisture out and sort of  mummify each brush in a small square of paper towel. It tames those little errant hairs that zing up like brush cowlicks and ruin the sharpness of a good brush. Excellent.

And because I expect some of you miss those wonky categories of ” What IS that? “, maybe you’d like to contribute your best guess as to what this is before I identify it.

Hints:

I have them every day.

Because they keep coming back.