Sunday With Ezshwan #5 & #6

This interview is more personal. An important part of my story as an artist. 

https://vimeo.com/565773437

 Sunday with Ezshwan #6 Ezshwan talks about her inspiration and technique for creating the series, 50 Faces,

https://vimeo.com/568696032

An Artist Can Only Paint What Is Inside Of Them

I have always felt that painters paint who they are. When I look back on the many years I have been a working artist, it is almost a catalogue of my life, experiences and emotions.

A friend, an artist ,who was my first encaustic student when I moved to Mexico almost 15 years ago, says he likes to paint chaos and uses mostly black on his very large paintings. One of his series is called Melancholy and the Lost. There are symbols that look to me like nuclear clouds. He was the one who told me that to be recognized as a Mexican artist, I had to paint angry art. That is never going to happen. The deeper I get into my spiritual, meditation practice, the less I want to bring more tension in my work.

I have spent a few hours going through images going back to about 1968 and almost got lost in memories of where I was emotionally when I made these paintings. Nothing stays the same and it is interesting to see my artist's journey following my physical and emotional journey. All of these images are figurative.

Since last August, 2018, I have been working on my series, "The Lightness of Being", all abstract. www.ezshwan.com (If you would like to sign up to receive my monthly newsletter, there is a form on the welcome page.)

I did not start photographing my work before the 1960's so the examples are all after that date.

about 1968

1969

about 1975

1978

1976

 

1987

The Circus Series, 1989

Every Woman Is A Goddess, circa 1991

Her Journey, A Woman's path to self-realization ,circa 1993

circa 1994

1995

1999

2000

The Love Letter, 2016

2017

2018

What Is An Artist?

oil on board 2016

pencil sketch, 1952

 oil paint sketch circa 1999

Is an (visual) artist anyone who makes marks on paper, canvas, walls, floors with paint, pencil, pen or anything else?
One does not have to have an official certificate to call oneself an artist. In San Miguel de Allende, where I have lived for 13 years, it seems anyone can step off the plane, move into San Miguel and call themselves an artist. I personally know several who have done that. People perhaps are re-inventing themselves from a career in accounting, teaching school, real estate, etc. and are inspired by the big, thriving arts community here. One woman, a successful writer of books on behavior of children told me, " I have decided to be an artist". I sat next to her in a life drawing session and could not believe what she was producing. In my opinion she couldn't see, draw or begin to understand the human body. She was happy and satisfied.

There is nothing wrong with that and I personally have taught hundred of people the encaustic technique. Almost all had fun, some serious ones took up encasustic painting and others were entertained by moving the colored wax with the heat source.

I believed that one needed to earn the title of artist. I loved my classical training where we were only allowed to work in black and white the first semester and draw, draw, draw, until it was perfect.

When I was five years old, I decided that I would be an artist. I drew every spare moment. Visiting the Chicago Art Institute as a little girl, I remember sitting in front of Flemish still life’s, enraptured with the sensuousness of the paint, the color, and the depth of feeling the paintings provoked in my young mind. I told myself that someday I would be able to create similar work. There was no doubt in my mind.

As a child I occupied my days with my own creativity – drawing, painting and writing stories. In grade school, I ignored the arithmetic assignments. The schoolwork wasn’t my reality. All I wanted to do was draw.

Oil painting classes started when I was a pre-teen, and I fell in love with the smell of the paint. I couldn’t imagine why other people didn’t see what I saw, or weren’t as ardent about making art.

I married before I finished my last year of art school and I began working for two publishing companies, making tiny illustrations of oil wells, haystacks and other symbols for school maps. I illustrated children’s stories for the second publishing company, but was fired when I became pregnant with my first child.

During my second marriage, I went back to art school and continued to paint. It was challenging. I felt as if there were conspiracies against me. My parents, husband, and various people in the community told me to get a real job,

The passing years tested my self-confidence. I wondered if I could really call myself an artist - could I create anything of value to humanity or even to my community? I judged myself harshly and “gave up painting forever and ever” at least once a year, but always came back to start a new series. To call myself an artist I believed was an honor to be earned with hard work, the ability of creating what has not been made before, sacrifice, dedication, and daily work. Learning to trust my inner direction rather than clinging to intellectual reasoning was my greatest lesson in art and in life.

It now is 62 years since I had my first professional art job and I am still learning. I make art, teach and sell my work. I believe now I am qualified to call myself an artist.

My first real abstract. Casein on illustration board, 1953

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fireworks at Dawn

 This morning I received a lovely message from a woman who had just finished reading my memoir.

"...I think it is important to write about life, the reality of a woman's life. I really had a hard time putting it down. The thread of progressing into a deeper and deeper sense of spirituality based on living a fully vibrant life was like the gold thread. I think you ought to have a copy reader fix those few words and phrases. I didn't mark them, but I noticed small errors, such as a word I could tell you meant but it wasn't spelled exactly that way. I think it would be a best seller, meaning it would reach more people. I am 72 now and am about to sell my house, not knowing where I'll live yet. I also have discovered encaustic painting. Anyway, your story is lingering in my mind as only a really good book or movie does for me. Thanks for writing your memoir and I thank Spirit for leading me to your art and to the book."

https://www.amazon.com/Artists-Memoir-Fireworks-Dawn-ebook
 /dp/B008G371SC#customerReviews 

Unfortunately there are typos and breaks in the narrative. I  know that and I can't correct them. I do not have the manuscript on my computer anymore.  I spent years writing it and going to writing groups. It was edited MANY times by me and finally by a professional editor and there are still errors. I take responsibly for some of them, but manly the mix up in formatting happened when I put it into Kindle form. That took me 18 days to get it formatted, working everyday ; I got the "how do" book and followed it word for word. I least I thought I did.

One of the errors that still makes me shutter is that I wrote "it is never to late..." That is one of my pet peeves. I KNOW it is "TOO". SO,  if you can accept my apology and just read it for the story and see some pictures, it can be purchased on Amazon. See the link above.

It Is Never Too Late To Live Your Dream

Kai Winding, Chuck Mangione, me

Here is the link if you are interested in purchasing this digital book. It can be read on any device.
http://www.amazon.com/Artists-Memoir-Fireworks-Dawn-ebook/dp/B008G371SC/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1454935726&sr=1-1&keywords=Ezshwan+Winding

It is never too late to live your dream. This is the story of how I changed from an older widow, subsisting on food stamps to a recognized artist, living in joy, peace and fellowship. I moved to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico when I was 70 years old and started life all over again.

Fireworks at Dawn takes the reader on a journey of my life, that can appear like a roller coaster; through betrayals and blessings to this delightful last chapter of my life.

Years earlier, I had felt, If I weren’t me, I would be jealous of me! My husband, Kai Winding, was an internationally known jazz trombonist. The rough parts of the relationship were smoothed, and we relished our deep love and soul connection.
Then my life shattered like a crystal goblet thrown against the wall. Kai, who had been in radiant health, developed a severe and increasingly painful headache. He died five months later from a brain tumor.

Fireworks at Dawn is the story of the dramatic changes in my life and thinking that pushed me from a glamorous, colorful and prosperous life through the painful depths of despair and financial ruin to this wonderful last stage of life.
I yearned for a life rich with colorful experiences, where I could live an artistic life, in a place where I could afford to pay for my basic needs; it was up to me. No one was going to rush in and rescue me. I had to make drastic changes.
When I moved to Mexico, I was still in bankruptcy. My art career was stagnant. Leaving my family was the hardest part of the move. My daughters and grandsons mean the world to me, but I had to convince myself that they didn’t need me anymore. Materially, I had little to lose.
A fine water colorist told me several years ago that being a professional artist was equivalent to jumping off a cliff without a parachute. I agreed.
While writing this book, I have had to scrutinize my whole life – the plethora of choices I have made and resultant mistakes and triumphs.
I was encouraged to write my story. Several people told me that they were interested in what made me who I am. “How did you do it? Why are you now content and at peace?” Through the writing of this book, I had the opportunity to question and release my own judgment and self-criticism. If issues from the past still pushed my emotional buttons, it was time to let them go.
I sincerely hope that this account of my life will motivate others who think they are prisoners of circumstances and that their dreams can not be realized.
It is never too late.

A drawing I made when I was 19 years old, in art school

Cold Wax and Oil

I made 6 more portraits, but not for the show. They are cold wax and oil. A very different process. I hadn't worked in cold wax for ages and I had to re-think the process. I haven't seen many (or any) portraits done in cold wax and oil, just abstracts.
If you know of any artists working figuratively in this medium, please let me know.

The rest of this day, I will be working in the studio, cleaning and arranging for the show on Sunday. NO painting. I need a break.

Both Cynthia (Hamilton) and I will have our studios open Sunday and there will be a variety of work, sizes, techniques and prices along with champagne and pop corn

More from the Archives

Feeding the Chickens

These paintings date from about 1969. All were painting with acrylic. None are available.

The Dress Aunt Minnie Made

John

The New Shop

Going Back in Time

Maybe it is Mercury Retrograde that is influencing me to look at older work or just a space in time between projects.

I was once asked if I had ever had therapy, and it was then I realized that my art is my therapy, marking passages of my life, experiences and learning.

You Must Lift Yourself From Hell Alone, 1996

Other Realities 2002

The Earth is Expecting... 2000

I don't remember the name of this one. It was sold years ago and it was large enough to be a room divider. It is the back of this triptych.

Face #48, A beautiful Woman; A beautiful Friend

Yesterday's Face

I have all the photos chosen for the last faces and the thought came to me that after all the weeks of spending almost all day, everyday in the studio, it will be strange to stop, hang the portraits, clean the studio and get back to other work.