Flowers for my love

I pick flowers for Bill. Not just because I love him, but for him to use in his paintings. He likes to have the real thing around to look at in his studio. I was thinking this morning as I was walking Clover (our dog) along the Cardinal Greenway, that there's nobody I know who appreciates the beauty of nature the way Bill does. It also occured to me that he goes out to take pictures maybe two or three times a month. Bill makes it a point to be on the 8:05 bus to his studio, and he doesn't leave until after 9:00pm most nights. I, mean while, get to saunter along the trail and enjoy the scents, sounds, and sights of the beautiful place where we live. How fair is that?

Really looking at art!

I have found that I am not enough to critique Bill's art work any longer. I went to a great discussion given by some local watercolorists. They work as a group and are able to help each other out. I am not an artist and as Bill's only one to call for opinions I feel I am lacking. He needs a guild, a group , cronies, someone who is an artist to bounce his ideas off of. His dad would be great! There are some artists in his building, maybe we need to be friendlier so they come by and offer opinions. Maybe he should have a supply of cookies on hand.

Colorado Springs bound

Bill is busy painting for a show at the Broadmoor Hotel over Mother's Day weekend. He has been doing some beautiful aspen pieces, makes me a little home sick. But on the other hand, Muncie is in full bloom! The Magnolias are perfuming the air, daffodills carpet the ground everywhere. It's spring time in Indiana!
Those of you who will be able to hit the Springs on Mother's day weekend, head out to see Bill!

Where does it all come from?

Bill finally has all his stuff (see I didn't call it 'junk') to his new location. Now he is putting up a wall - a.k.a. giant easel. He's putting away all the boxes, canvases, magazines, and 3 tons of misc. How does a man who spends his time painting collect so much stuff? I have a theory, he doesn't go get it, it comes to him. It knows it has a safe haven in Bill's studio, it will never get thrown away, it will be lugged from location to location. Maybe I should count myself lucky... I know he'll never throw me away, he'll just keep lugging me along!

studio move

Bill is moving his studio. He found a beautiful space down town, it's much smaller, that could pose some problems. He's been quite spoiled with space in his current studio. It will be interesting to see how he manages all his stuff.
An artist shouldn't have that much stuff! Paint, brushes, canvas, right? Oh no. He has magazines from the beginning of time, books on every artist, living and dead. Books about flowers, trees, parks, Indians, flowers, shrubs, landscapes, flowers, and flowers. He has his TV and other electronic gadgets that he uses or tries to fix to use. He's got frames that are too ugly, cracked, or the wrong size that he'll be able to use someday. He has 1.83 tons of bubble wrap (that I'm not allowed to touch due to my bubble wrap popping disorder).
I think it may be easier to rent a uhaul trailer and make one (or two?) trip out of it. There's a 3 story climb to his new place, his current studio is on a second story, lots of stairs! All I can say is - thank heavens for all these kids! And especially for the infant! I have to take care of him, or else I'd love to help Bill move....

An artist's wife

I jokingly say I married Bill for his money, not so much his ‘cash in hand’ but for his potential earning power. On our first date he took me to The Hole in the Wall Gallery in Kalispell, Montana. We had looked at the art on the first floor and were climbing the stairs to the second, and there was his painting. He didn’t tell me, I had never seen his landscapes before, but I knew. At that moment I also knew Bill Inman was the best artist in the world.
After 19 years I realize he wasn’t the best then, but he is now! I enjoy watching him paint. It’s amazing how he pulls splendor from strokes seemingly laid half hazardly. It’s like watching a picture that’s out of focus slowly come into focus. I can tell his moods; thunderous clouds - frustration, dewy misty mornings – hope, strong vibrant reds and oranges – enthusiasm.
So what’s my job in all this? Support. Most people don’t realize how vulnerable an artist can be. Every piece that comes off his easel is him. Every juried show he doesn’t make is a personal rejection. Every criticism of his work is a criticism of him. It’s like an artist walks naked through a world of thorns. I can understand how an artist without a ‘cheer squad’ backing him can go a little crazy.
I used to wash brushes for him, but not so much anymore. I used to help him frame, but he’s trained Harrison and Eve very well for that task. For some reason Bill thinks I have an ‘eye’ for art, therefore he won’t call any piece done until I give it my OK.
I do try to keep him fed, which is hard because he doesn’t eat the normal American diet, but that’s for another blog….