Leap of Faith,, as in “What am I doing?”

Leap of Faith

Leap of Faith

This was THE hardest painting I have done. Leap of Faith? You have got to be kidding! Drawing two perspectives in one figure, the hips going one way, the shoulders going t’other, known in ballet terms as epaulment, the muscular symmetry of his arms, shoulders and torso, and the odd angles of his hips and legs, was hard enough, but it wasn’t until I started shading in the light and dark did I realise the drawing was wrong.  For those good with maths, here is some mental arithmetic. 3 – 6 hours to complete the back arm, 3 hours to do the face, 3 hours for the forearm, and the time taken to do the torso,, I  lost count. Notice I haven’t mentioned time taken to do the legs, feet, background and the ribbony thing around his hips?

Oh yes! The background, yep that was a botch up as well, but with a huge leap of imagination and instinctive use of colour it came together, but only just…..

It now hangs lopsided on the lounge wall, lopsided because I cant be bothered looking for eyelets and string, not that that is an issue, it wont be there long before it gets dumped into the pile of paintings already building a merry stack against the wall.

And so as not to forget the darned thing once it is lost in the pile, here it is on a T Shirt,

Leap of Faith Arty Tees

And as a print available from Fine Art America

Untitled Canvas Print – Fine Art America

And on my website: EB

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About Ellis Burgess

A number of people have said that ‘it’ (whatever ‘it’ is) is in Ellis’s genes and to some extent they may be correct. Her grandmother painted and so did her mother. Marge Barley started painting when she was 9 years old and achieved some acclaim in New Zealand. In turn, her mother, Ellis’s Grandmother started much later in life more from compulsion than conscious desire. Ten years ago a well-intentioned friend shoved a paintbrush into Ellis’s clenched fist, forcefully moving her hand between paint pot and paper until it moved of its own volition in a frenetic frenzy attended by a torrent of tears born of bewilderment and frustration, unaware of the wild colour patterning the fury within. Ellis’s mother had passed away three years earlier from Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. From these inauspicious beginnings Ellis began to paint, and for a short time attended classes at the Hamilton Society of Arts in New Zealand. Seven years ago, Ellis and her husband moved to the Gold Coast where she met Stephen Buntrock of the Gold Coast Art School. With his encouragement, painting became more than just something to do. It became a passion. Another passion is dance. Ellis loves the musical synergy of movement, the human form working with rhythm mood and emotion, sensing the freedom as the dancer soars across the floor with effortless ease. Like a lot of little girls, she was sent off to ballet in a somewhat desperate attempt by her grandfather to stop her stomping around the house. Eleven years later Ellis was selected to dance with NZ Ballet Company in a season of the Nutcracker. Did Ellis stop stomping? No. Ballet was to be her life; that was until she met the man of her dreams. Never the less, ballet has featured in much of her adult life by way of teaching and outlets of involvement. Ellis quickly discovered another outlet was painting. She spent a long time pondering on the skill set required to achieve her vision; how to portray the artistry of movement, the musicality and rhythm of dance, and the genius of the human form on canvas. Attempting different techniques, she learnt she is not an illustrator, but a painter who gravitated towards free movement. In her quieter moments Ellis often wonders what her mother would say if she were still here, left only with her paintings languishing against the wall. As an apprentice in the art of painting Ellis hopes the path ahead will be clear, perhaps meander elegantly at her will. Maybe it will broaden out to a huge piazza where she may sit for a long while, then later choose the many paths that transverse the piazza or continue again down the main road.

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