Author: virginiacmccoy

Today, I decided to set up to do some painting while on a zoom meeting. I didn’t think I would be able to do much, but I was surprised. I like my little pear painting. What say you?

This little painting is oils on an 8×10 stretched canvas. I painted the canvas with purple acrylic paint before starting with the oils. I think it worked.

There are only ten minutes in the life of a pear when it is perfect to eat. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Who does not like a good vegetable soup?  I love it.  It is one of my favorite foods.  As I am writing this, I am eating a bowl of vegetable soup.  Surprised?  Well, neither am I.   The one that I am enjoying, as I write, is heavy on potatoes, peas, and black beans, but it has corn, okra, green beans, and all kinds of other goodies, too.  Sometimes, I like a tomato-based veggie soup, like Grandma’s.  Grandma’s soup is the first one that I remember.  It was home grown, home canned, and home enjoyed.  It was different almost every time I had it, but it was always good.

I remember the pantry where the soup was kept.  It was a long narrow room, painted white, with a window on the left and shelves, floor to ceiling, on the right.  Although it was a small room, I enjoyed spending time there.  I looked up at the shelves filled with all manner of things, including snuff in plastic tumblers which would one day be used to serve beverages, rows of vegetable soup on the shelf at my eye level, and many other jars of garden produce.

Grandma always had a bucket on her kitchen counter to collect the scraps for use in the garden.  It was always open and there always seemed to be coffee grounds and egg shells in it.  At the appropriate time, and I don’t remember exactly when that time was, she would take it and put it in the garden.  I don’t remember if she just threw it on the ground or if she buried it, but, she was composting long before it was cool.

I grew up and moved out into the world and ended up in Florida in the first house we had ever bought.  We also had a new garden.  We bought a new-to-us truck, which we christened Bertha The Faithful Truck, and took her to a dairy out in the country to get a nice big load of aged cow manure to fill the raised beds that we had built in our backyard.  Bertha handled it very well.  At the dairy, a front-end loader scooped up a load and dropped it into the bed of the truck.  I was not expecting the blow and almost jumped out of my skin.  For the next scoop, I asked him to take it easy, please.  He did and I was on my way.  A friend and her son went with me to get the manure and they helped me to transport it from the driveway to the garden with a wheelbarrow.  It took a while, but with all three of us, it was done that day and what a beautiful sight.

I got some plants and some seeds and soon I had a genuine garden, like Grandma’s.  I was growing tomatoes, corn, green beans, okra, zucchini, and who knows what else.  A few months later, when things were ready for harvesting, I got my canning materials together and called Grandma for her vegetable soup recipe.

“Hello!?” Grandma answered the phone with her high-pitched southern drawl.

After the usual pleasantries, I got down to business.  “I am calling to get the recipe for your vegetable soup.”

“My what?” asked Grandma, with puzzlement.

“Your vegetable soup recipe.  My garden is ready and I need your recipe so that I can make your soup.  I love it and want to make it just like yours.”

“Recipe!?”

“Yes, your vegetable soup recipe.”

“I don’t have a recipe.  It has vegetables in it!”  Grandma sounded like she was worried that I was a little soft in the head, after all.  And, with her being hard of hearing, we were both yelling.

“I know it has vegetables in it, but I want to know which ones and how much.  Basically I need a recipe, Grandma.”

“Well, it just has vegetables in it!”

Okay, I was pretty sure that this was as far as I was going to get, so I thanked her, told her I loved her, and called Mom.  I had called Mom before I called Grandma, probably for another reason, and asked her if she had the recipe.  She had suggested that I call Grandma for it.  So, here I was, again, begging for help.

After some thought, Mom said, “If I remember right, Mother’s vegetable soup was just what was left in the garden after she had canned all the individual vegetables.  It was different every year, due to how the garden did that year.  I don’t even know if she added salt or anything else to it.”

Well, I had what I had and had to make do.  So, I used tomatoes, potatoes, okra, green beans, onions, and various seasonings.  Somehow, it turned out very good.  It reminded me of Grandma, but it did not taste exactly like hers.  Come to think of it, Grandma’s soup never tasted exactly like Grandma’s soup, either.  It was always different, but it was always good.  The best part of it was that it was made by my Grandma.

Soft sunshine on lazy summer days, corny jokes and laughter, the big white bible that had such wonderful pictures and was smack dab in the middle of the coffee table, the spicy and comforting aroma of that snuff which came in the colored plastic glasses, a big beautiful garden, a telephone party line, and the best vegetable soup I have ever eaten are only a very few of the happy memories I have of Grandma.  She did not wear aprons all the time that I knew her.  She may have when she was younger, I don’t know.  She rarely wore dresses, but she wore capris, white socks, and sneakers.  She sang hymns and funny little songs, crocheting in her recliner with the spit jar next to her within reach.  She had comic books in her bed.  She loved Total cereal for lunch, which is a whole other story.  I will never forget her pineapple upside down cake, which she told me does not need to look good, which it did not, but to taste good, which it most assuredly did!  And, I have her wooden spoon, which is worn down from all the stirring that she did.  I use it to stir my soup.

I love my Grandma.  I miss her.

Mom was talking to Grandma on the phone one day, discussing plants and gardening, when Mom remembered a joke.  So, she asked Grandma what the difference was between a male chromosome and a female chromosome.  Grandma said, “Well, I don’t know.  Maybe you can take them back to the nursery and see if they know.”

Copyright 2020 Virginia C. McCoy

I sat down at the easel with the intention of doing something quickly with lots of paint and this poor girl’s reference photo was at hand. It was a learning experience, that is all. LOL! I used the paint that was left from the castle painting, plus lots of white.

Abstraction generally involves implication, suggestion and mystery, rather than obvious description. — Robert Genn

This is the Eilean Donan Castle in Scotland. I wish I could say I have been there, however, I have not. This is oils on a 12×16 white panel with brushes and knife.

My heart ‘s in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart ‘s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer. — Robert Burns

While Toby and I were walking this morning, my intent was to get some photographs from which to paint. I am inspired by Elbert Shubert to try plein-air painting, which is the fancy artsy frenchy way of saying painting outside with your easel set up in front of whatever you are painting. But, it has been rainy and I don’t want to get all set up and then get soaked while desperately trying to get my easel taken down again. LOL! That would be an entertaining sight for someone other than me. So, I took photos all along my walk. This one is from across the road from me. I was trying desperately to stay loose and not sweat it. What do you think?

Oils on panel with a large filbert brush, and medium filbert brush, and a palette knife. It is 9×12. I am rather nervous just thinking about painting outside where people can see me. Maybe I will find secret out-of-the-way places. Like my backyard. LOL! Below is the same barn, but this photo is taken from a very different angle at a different time of year, although why that matters, I don’t know, because I didn’t stick to the photo that I took this morning.

“Mix up a little more shadow color here, then we can put us a little shadow right in there. See how you can move things around? You have unlimited power on this canvas — can literally, literally move mountains” — Bob Ross

We recently went on a trip to Alabama, Florida, and North Carolina. When we left, the virus was not in the forefront of my mind, so when we got to Alabama and it was such a topic of conversation, I was surprised. I don’t watch the news. Mr. Beloved has to keep me informed. I had heard of it, but not a whole lot. Well, that was what our trip was mainly about. We stayed with my parents in Alabama and they got us up to speed on the hand-sanitizer thing. I have always washed my hands, but I am not a hand-sanitizer person. I also have always been a little shocked and angry at how many people do not wash their hands. People are learning about it for the first time! (I have my sarcasm and “told you so” face on.)

Anyway, we had a relatively good time. Here are some photos from our trip:

The above is from the Tennessee Welcome Center on the interstate (I don’t remember which one). It was very nice and they had walking trails with signs that said how long it was. There was also this interesting sculpture. I don’t know what it is about, but it is nifty.

Mom and I were always busy doing something. On this day, we had gone to the museum, but it ended up being closed due to a special exhibition that they had just had. So, we ended up walking in the park.

After spending a few days in Alabama, we went to Florida to see my in-laws. We had fun and got some stuff done in spite of the virus situation.

After a very hot and sunny time in Florida, we headed home. But, we stopped in North Carolina to stay at a bed and breakfast in Mt. Airy. The bed and breakfast is owned by Elbert Shubert and his lovely wife Linda. I know that most of you will remember him:

Yes! How wild is that? While we were planning our trip, we were looking online for B&B’s in Mt. Airy and discovered that Elbert owns a B&B/Art Gallery there. We HAD to book that one! LOL! I had such a good time talking “artist” with him. His wife, who does most of the inkeeping work was wonderful, also. It was very nice and I hope that, if anyone needs a place to stay in Mt. Airy, that they will look into The Vermeer Bed and Breakfast and Art Gallery. Here are some pics:

Mr. Beloved on the front porch of the inn, reading my journal, which I was writing in every day, keeping close track of everything that was going on while we were traveling.

Of course, we had to do some of the touristy “Mayberry” stuff, but not much was open. I had lunch at Barney’s Burgers and we did manage to get some souvenirs and candy.

And, finally, I did start a drawing before I left. I just finished it, today. Now, on to some more art and writing. I am still cogitating on Grandma’s Soup.

This is graphite and white charcoal on grey toned paper. I started out trying to be a little too realistic and as I worked my way through it, I tried loosening up. I think this Rhino is about as handsome as they come. LOL!

“Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.” -Gustav Flaubert

How exciting! I got the oil portrait that was done of me in the portrait swap. I think it is beautiful! What good work. I hope that someday I can get that good with oils. Does anyone think it looks like me?

“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself.” — Oscar Wilde

This is my most recent commission. Such a cutie pie! I actually had to draw this one twice, because I just could not get the likeness. I am relieved that I did finally get it.

“Little girls are precious gifts, wrapped in love serene. Their dresses tied with sashes and futures tied with dreams.” – Unknown

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And I am still doing head studies. Here is my latest one. I just do not have the hang of oil paints, yet. But, I am having fun.

This man, in the reference photo, looked an awful lot like an angry Yul Brynner, but I don’t think I got that likeness. He is from Nepal, I think.

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“Girls are giggles with freckles all over them.” – Unknown

I am in the process of getting a feel for oil paints. So many people say that oil paints are so easy and forgiving. I just seem to make a gloppy mess with them. I am hoping that just painting as much and as often as possible will help me learn how to deal with it. So, here is a study. An artist that I like to watch on youtube said to do monochromatic studies while getting used to oils, so I am trying. I must say that it is helping quite a bit with the values. If anyone saw my “first oil portrait”, you will see what I mean. LOL! Also, something that I did with this one that I did not do with that first one was that I drew the picture on the canvas with a pencil before putting paint on. That first one was “drawn” with paint. Not a good idea for my first…

“Sculpture is the best comment that a painter can make on painting.” — Pablo Picasso

Well, I bit the bullet and did an oil portrait. I know it is really bad, but I am very happy with how it turned out, because, for some reason, oil paints are very difficult for me. I need to use them regularly and after a time I am pretty sure I will get used to them.

This first photo is my initial underpainting using burn umber and white with solvent and medium. I learned that mixing a lot of white with earth pigments makes grey. LOL!

I also learned, from fellow artists, that the above was not a finished underpainting. I thought it was, but after doing another layer on the underpainting, I must confess that they were right. This layer is done with burnt umber and white with no solvent or medium, just right out of the tube.

After that layer dried, I applied color. I am still learning how to make skin tones, how to add medium, how to blend, how to shade. I guess we can say I am still learning how to paint with oils. LOL!

I like it. I do hope that I will improve greatly, however. I am pretty excited to have finished my first oil portrait (even if she is a little strange looking…) YIPPEE!

“When I paint a person, his enemies always find the portrait a good likeness.” — Edvard Munch