"Watching You"--completed November 5, 2009. This is my first completed self-portrait. I did one earlier but ended up "improving it," only to destroy it. I am very satisfied with this one. In addition to my usual materials--colored pencil, oil pastels, oil sticks, and oil paints, I also used a palate knife and even some acrylic paint in a thin tube. My favorite part of the painting is the scarf. I started recreating the scarf I had worn and then, out of the blue, it started changing. I stopped before I went too far and it works! The headscarf I had worn was actually a sarong purchased in Hawaii. The Roman sandals came from my trip to London. The background, of course, is the botanical gardens. And the guy in the background? He was a photographer who was following around a bride-to-be, scoping out places for photo ops on her big day. We kept running into each other and courteously yielding so that we could both get our jobs done. I used the timer to take my own pictures and did not realize that he was in the background of one of the photos (in a slightly different location and wearing different colors) until I went to edit them.
Self Portrait of the Artist
Cynthia Adams Losen, on a July, 2009 Visit to the Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens
Saturday, November 7, 2009
"Watching You"--completed November 5, 2009. This is my first completed self-portrait. I did one earlier but ended up "improving it," only to destroy it. I am very satisfied with this one. In addition to my usual materials--colored pencil, oil pastels, oil sticks, and oil paints, I also used a palate knife and even some acrylic paint in a thin tube. My favorite part of the painting is the scarf. I started recreating the scarf I had worn and then, out of the blue, it started changing. I stopped before I went too far and it works! The headscarf I had worn was actually a sarong purchased in Hawaii. The Roman sandals came from my trip to London. The background, of course, is the botanical gardens. And the guy in the background? He was a photographer who was following around a bride-to-be, scoping out places for photo ops on her big day. We kept running into each other and courteously yielding so that we could both get our jobs done. I used the timer to take my own pictures and did not realize that he was in the background of one of the photos (in a slightly different location and wearing different colors) until I went to edit them.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Petersburg Art Show and a first place award
I won first place at the Petersburg Regional Art Center's monthly show for my portrait of Deacon McCommodore Charles. The painting is called "Pilgrim Soul," a take-off of a Yeats poem and the fact that Deacon Charles is the longest standing member of Pilgrim Baptist Church. I also have a show at the Petersburg Regional Art Center--132 N. Sycamore St. Opening tonight, October 9, 7 p.m.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
New Painting and Opening Reminder
"Her Praise"I named another one after a Yeats poem. It's Renee and Alkendrick again. I signed that I had finished it in July, but when I brought it to church on Sunday, I saw a couple of things that needed fixing.
I hope to bring it to the show on Thursday (Frame Warehouse--Libbie Place at Libbie and Broad, between 5 and 8 p.m.) The other paintings will be up for at least two months.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Change on Date of Opening Announcement
Hi Everyone!
Recently, I have been giving people the wrong date for my opening at the Frame Warehouse (next to the Vitamin Shop atLibbie Place Shopping Center--Libbie & Broad). It will be on Thursday, August 6th, 2009 between 5 p.m. and 8 p.m. Please come if you can.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Art Show at the Frame Warehouse
July 15, 2009
My recent body of works have related to the Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens, so I thought it only appropriate to do a "self-portrait"--in the photographic medium--there. As you can see, I had some fun.
In addition, you can see my newest painting of my new friends, Renee and Alkendrick. Renee recently gave birth to Alkendrick III, and both mother and baby are healthy and happy. I hope to take the couple back to the gardens soon.
I think I'll call this painting "First Love," after a poem by William Butler Yeats. I also like the ambiguity of the name. "First Love" could refer to the relationship between the couple. Or it could refer to the love for the child that is to come.
The poem is not a particularly happy one--like many of Yeats' poems related to Maud Gonne--but the title is still appropriate for my subject. You might notice that poetry has inspired the renaming of a few other paintings.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Art Show in July
I do not have an opening date yet, but some of my work is currently hanging at Frame Warehouse in Libbie Place (Libbie and Broad--across from the Barnes and Noble and Pet Smart stores). I'll let you know when the opening will be. I'm still working on a piece that I hope to include.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
La Niña de las Orquídeas.
I took Raquee to the botanical gardens on what must have been the coldest day in January. It's okay, I told her, we'll just spend most of our time in the orchid garden. It's always summer there.
Most of the pictures were taken there and the portrait at the top of the page comes from one of those photographs. I just came up with a name for the painting today (May 27, 2009)--with the help of my Spanish-teacher friend, Donna Bennington. I asked for a Spanish name in part to honor President Obama's choice of an Hispanic Supreme Court Justice nominee--Sonia Sotomayor.
The painting's name is La Niña de las Orquídeas. Or "Girl of the Orchids." I have just been teaching the poetry of Neruda and Lorca and Lorca uses a great deal of flower imagery, particularly camellias and orchids. Not only was Raquee a lovely subject in her blue-and-white floral dress, but she was also wonderful company.
Even though she was only eight years old, she knew all about how to act. We spent around forty-five minutes in the library, filled mostly with senior citizens. Raquee and I looked at a book on Japanese gardens. We whispered about the various pictures, and I explained to her what words like "asymmetrical" meant.
Raquee told me that the garden cafe served "the best chicken-salad sandwich I have ever had in my entire life." I brought her home later that day. As she got out of the car, she said, "and this has been the best day of my entire life." It doesn't get any better than that. Raquee videotaped some of the images from Easter Sunday. I have yet to upload those to youTube yet, maybe because she also took some images of me. I'm used to being behind the camera, not in front of it.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Pilgrim Soul, a Portrait of Deacon McCommodore Charles
The image directly above is a picture of the portrait I did of Deacon McCommodore Charles. You can also find his words of wisdom and his stories on youTube. When you get there, just type in: cynthialosenInspired by William Butler Yeats’ beautiful poem, “When You are Old,” I renamed the portrait of Deacon Charles, “Pilgrim Soul” because it is the best description of this ordained Deacon and most long-standing member of
When You are Old
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Self-Portrait with Aspiring Photographer at Church
This young man, Nicholas, seemed enchanted with my cameras. Nicholas talked me into using the camera's timer (something I had not done since I finished my photography class, and a reminder that if you don't use it, you lose it) and taking a picture of the two of us. Unfortunately, and because I was out of practice, I forgot to set it for indoor light, so it turned out a little orange and it is a little blurry. Photoshop helped a little, however.
I am drawn to certain faces and I remember Nicholas' face as one of the ones I photographed in those first two or three weeks of my attendance.
This photograph was taken when we were celebrating "Black History Month," and, more specifically, "Black History Sunday 2009."
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Story of Chelsea Hill
I moved this information today, so that the blog would start here.
When I first seriously took up painting—about 8 years ago, I began with a portrait of Patrick, a friend dying of AIDS. I followed with portraits of literary and historical heroes—namely, William Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, Collette, and Maud Gonne.
As I struggled with something I was writing one day, I gazed up at the paintings around my desk. I became conscious of how my colors and lines resembled the stained-glass windows from my Irish-Catholic childhood. I’ve surrounded myself with saints, I thought. Inspired, I finished an essay that would culminate in a National Endowment for the Humanities award to study Irish mythology at Harvard University.
I don’t consider myself a writer or an artist as much as a senachie (SHAW– nah-kee)—Irish for “Storyteller.” There are several in every Irish or Irish-American family. We’re always looking for an audience; we can’t help it. Everything I paint comes from a significant experience. Each painting has a long story behind it.
This story began as an article for the Regional Governors’ Schools’ annual newsletter. Our students had renovated a playground in Whitcomb Court, an area of the city with historically high crime rates. Uncomfortable with exploring on foot, I looked for a church as a segue into the community. Pilgrim Baptist Church stands at the corner of Whitcomb and Mecklenberg Streets, across the street from Magnolia Gardens, a public housing community. Three years ago, a woman was murdered there, within hours of Sunday school and practically in front of the church. I saw Pastor Moore’s name on the sign outside and wrote it down. When he returned my call, he said he did not think he could help me with the story. Pilgrim, founded in 1909, used to be a neighborhood church, the one at the top of one of Richmond’s seven hills, this one called Chelsea Hill.
Many of Pilgrim’s members no longer live in the adjacent neighborhood because many of the homes on Chelsea Hill were torn down in the late 1950s in order to make room for Whitcomb Court, Mosby Court, Magnolia Gardens, and the now defunct juvenile-justice facility that stands where the church used to stand.
Some of the older members of Pilgrim remain in what was probably the city’s first African-American--then referred to as “Negro”-- subdivision, Eastview, erected in 1954. Many of these residents either went to college or sent their children through college. Postal workers (many of them veterans of World War II and Korea) and teachers predominated. Many members live in other areas of the city or even the counties, scattered by the winds of “progress,” which was a nice word city officials used back then to cover up their racist intentions, intentions that were fueled by the impending reality of the Brown vs. the Board of Education decision.
Among the actions taken was the building of multiple public housing communities (segregated—whites were sent to the south side) and the juvenile justice facility. Erected in 1960, the courthouse and its housing units have been closed for 8 or 9 years. Pastor Moore, who is also a prison chaplain, and therefore has a lot of credibility, told me that the church had purchased the property with the intention of turning it into a community outreach center, one that would address the great needs of this area—for members and non-members alike. That sparked my interest.
“ I don’t know why,” I said, “but I still want to come to services on Sunday.” Pastor Moore called back the day before I was to come and I feared that he had changed his mind. Instead, he asked about the spelling of my last name. As it turned out, Pastor Moore had been a student of Dr. Carl Losen, my father-in-law, who taught for years at Virginia Union University. Carl had also been his academic advisor.
Besides Pastor Moore, the first person I spoke to at length was Mary Charles. She started talking about what the area used to be like, telling me about the house where she grew up and the church that used to stand where the defunct juvenile center now stands.
Then I met McCommodore (Mac) Charles, Mary’s older brother. As it turned out, Mac and Mary are related to a colleague, Irvin Charles, head of security at my school.
I started coming to church every week, and usually took pictures of various events. I even attended meetings of the Elizabeth Project, a program for pregnant teens.
The more I got to know people, the more I came to love them, and the more I learned about a history that has been largely ignored. Formal research has led to some amazing discoveries—confirmed in the stories I have begun digitally audio-recording and transcribing. I’m not sure when I will find the time, but I plan to write a book about this place.
The paintings just kind of happened, as they always do. I have taken well over 7,000 digital photos, and only 10 have translated into paintings—so far.
Because of the storytelling element, the titles are nearly as important as the subjects themselves. I tried to explain the reason behind some of those names here. Some titles are inspired by a subject’s name; others are inspired by the action. Several have Biblical allusions; one, “Covenant,” was inspired by a Sunday School lesson.
All but three paintings that have been entered into a show has won a prize—from honorable mentions to first place. As I have been transformed, so has my work.
This community has an amazing story to tell—one of strength, endurance, love, and forgiveness. Like Irish-American families, African-American families have plenty of storytellers and the stories are great—full of pathos but also full of humor.
And now some of these stories can be told by images. Committed Baptists refer to themselves as saints, and saints deserve an audience. Look at the images, look for the stories, and let them transform you as they have transformed me.
When I first seriously took up painting—about 8 years ago, I began with a portrait of Patrick, a friend dying of AIDS. I followed with portraits of literary and historical heroes—namely, William Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, Collette, and Maud Gonne.
As I struggled with something I was writing one day, I gazed up at the paintings around my desk. I became conscious of how my colors and lines resembled the stained-glass windows from my Irish-Catholic childhood. I’ve surrounded myself with saints, I thought. Inspired, I finished an essay that would culminate in a National Endowment for the Humanities award to study Irish mythology at Harvard University.
I don’t consider myself a writer or an artist as much as a senachie (SHAW– nah-kee)—Irish for “Storyteller.” There are several in every Irish or Irish-American family. We’re always looking for an audience; we can’t help it. Everything I paint comes from a significant experience. Each painting has a long story behind it.
This story began as an article for the Regional Governors’ Schools’ annual newsletter. Our students had renovated a playground in Whitcomb Court, an area of the city with historically high crime rates. Uncomfortable with exploring on foot, I looked for a church as a segue into the community. Pilgrim Baptist Church stands at the corner of Whitcomb and Mecklenberg Streets, across the street from Magnolia Gardens, a public housing community. Three years ago, a woman was murdered there, within hours of Sunday school and practically in front of the church. I saw Pastor Moore’s name on the sign outside and wrote it down. When he returned my call, he said he did not think he could help me with the story. Pilgrim, founded in 1909, used to be a neighborhood church, the one at the top of one of Richmond’s seven hills, this one called Chelsea Hill.
Many of Pilgrim’s members no longer live in the adjacent neighborhood because many of the homes on Chelsea Hill were torn down in the late 1950s in order to make room for Whitcomb Court, Mosby Court, Magnolia Gardens, and the now defunct juvenile-justice facility that stands where the church used to stand.
Some of the older members of Pilgrim remain in what was probably the city’s first African-American--then referred to as “Negro”-- subdivision, Eastview, erected in 1954. Many of these residents either went to college or sent their children through college. Postal workers (many of them veterans of World War II and Korea) and teachers predominated. Many members live in other areas of the city or even the counties, scattered by the winds of “progress,” which was a nice word city officials used back then to cover up their racist intentions, intentions that were fueled by the impending reality of the Brown vs. the Board of Education decision.
Among the actions taken was the building of multiple public housing communities (segregated—whites were sent to the south side) and the juvenile justice facility. Erected in 1960, the courthouse and its housing units have been closed for 8 or 9 years. Pastor Moore, who is also a prison chaplain, and therefore has a lot of credibility, told me that the church had purchased the property with the intention of turning it into a community outreach center, one that would address the great needs of this area—for members and non-members alike. That sparked my interest.
“ I don’t know why,” I said, “but I still want to come to services on Sunday.” Pastor Moore called back the day before I was to come and I feared that he had changed his mind. Instead, he asked about the spelling of my last name. As it turned out, Pastor Moore had been a student of Dr. Carl Losen, my father-in-law, who taught for years at Virginia Union University. Carl had also been his academic advisor.
Besides Pastor Moore, the first person I spoke to at length was Mary Charles. She started talking about what the area used to be like, telling me about the house where she grew up and the church that used to stand where the defunct juvenile center now stands.
Then I met McCommodore (Mac) Charles, Mary’s older brother. As it turned out, Mac and Mary are related to a colleague, Irvin Charles, head of security at my school.
I started coming to church every week, and usually took pictures of various events. I even attended meetings of the Elizabeth Project, a program for pregnant teens.
The more I got to know people, the more I came to love them, and the more I learned about a history that has been largely ignored. Formal research has led to some amazing discoveries—confirmed in the stories I have begun digitally audio-recording and transcribing. I’m not sure when I will find the time, but I plan to write a book about this place.
The paintings just kind of happened, as they always do. I have taken well over 7,000 digital photos, and only 10 have translated into paintings—so far.
Because of the storytelling element, the titles are nearly as important as the subjects themselves. I tried to explain the reason behind some of those names here. Some titles are inspired by a subject’s name; others are inspired by the action. Several have Biblical allusions; one, “Covenant,” was inspired by a Sunday School lesson.
All but three paintings that have been entered into a show has won a prize—from honorable mentions to first place. As I have been transformed, so has my work.
This community has an amazing story to tell—one of strength, endurance, love, and forgiveness. Like Irish-American families, African-American families have plenty of storytellers and the stories are great—full of pathos but also full of humor.
And now some of these stories can be told by images. Committed Baptists refer to themselves as saints, and saints deserve an audience. Look at the images, look for the stories, and let them transform you as they have transformed me.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)