Archives for posts with tag: painting

“Dressed Right for a Beach Fight,” 2015, 39” x 29” (framed with a mat), charcoal and pencil on paper. The drawing will be in a group show at Ceres Gallery, 547 W. 27th Street, Suite 201, New York, NY 10001, June 20th-July 15th. The reception is June 22nd, 6-8 PM. The name of the group exhibition is “My Favorite Things.”

Originally, I did this drawing for a solo show. My work for the solo show was related to clothes and how much I crave them, remembering events in my life by what I was wearing at the time. Since, I have decided not to do an exhibition based on clothing.

Therefore when the Ceres group show came up, I wanted this drawing to be in the show because I still catalogue my memories in this way and it goes very well with the theme. The title of the drawing is strange, but if it confuses you or seems to evoke questions or need explanation, just think of it as “Drawing Number One.”

fullsizeoutput_2868 This is the finished “mixed media” painting-number 10 of my series of crosses. When I showed the series in New York last year, “The Cross Series”, I only showed nine. Actually nine was the perfect number for the gallery. I did this one this year. I think this painting reflects the political climate of the time. It is definitely more frenetic and complicated. It took longer to resolve.

There is a lot of work for me to do. I am planning on doing four smaller paintings, each assigned to a different venue. The deadline for these is in about six weeks. Sometimes, my best work is work done very quickly. Less overworked, less second guessed, more spontaneous. Hope I don’t have the same struggles with these as I did with the above work.

The good news, is, the freeway in Atlanta is fixed! Or will be by next Monday, therefore I will be going back into town more often to work. No more clogged surface roads, clogged sinuses due to bad ventilation in the basement. Everyone was using the backroads causing sinkholes. More blocked traffic. The world, at least locally will return to the way things were.


As you can see, the pallet is in shades of pink. My usual: Dark to light, bright to dull. I can’t say that this sojourn back into the metaphysical world of painting is easy. It’s incredibly hard work. But so far, after the struggle and the dread. The knocking over the paint bucket and the general awkwardness of it all, it is finally giving back to me. The work is giving back to ME! This is why I keep going.

Copyright Hollis Hildebrand-Mills 2015 All Rights Reserved

Above is a photograph of my art studio in town, all cleaned up and ready for work! The accumulation of wooden stretcher frames, at the far side of the big table on the right is waiting for me to stretch canvas over them. My next solo show is in New York, April, 2016.

This past year has been rough for me. My mother died four days before Christmas. The darkest time of the year. Our sweet daughter left for college in the fall.

I aptly named this section of my blog, “Piece Of My Heart.” And have written things such as “Vince Vaughn Bought My Daughter’s Prom Dress”, “The Shredding Skirt” and “Pie O Logy.” I did get carried away, and may continue to do so.

Even though it has only been a few months, I think, “Did I really tell the world about the mining accident?” (Now, now. I did not say it was I who had the relative who took one step back too far!) I could use some relatives now. Some relatives who will stretch my canvases and tell me what a good a painter I am!

I have thought about giving up the blog. But I enjoy it so much.

Although you might think i should post my painting in progress, ( and I may do so from time to time ), I would rather keep each post an artwork unto itself. Painting is totally separate from the keyboard.

I need to get back to work.

Copyright Hollis Hildebrand-Mills 2014 All rights reserved

I am about to tell you I have broken my planking record at the gym. I know I told you this before, that I could do “the plank” by visualizing being underwater, thus being nicknamed “The Scuba Planker!” And I was at two minutes then. As The Scuba Planker.

Now I can hold that position for six minutes! And I do not have to visualize being underwater anymore.

I expect to walk into the gym one day and I’ll see a plaque on the wall. or worse yet, as I extend my time, I wonder if there will be a Plank Off. Like a Bake Off. Or a Pie Eating Contest. I will be matched with someone and together side by side we will be tested to determine who can hold the plank the longest.

Day Seventy-Eight/Image Seventy-Eight

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

My daughter gets all dressed up for homecomings and parties. Everything is agonized over. Makeup for professional photographs done by a so-called professional makeup artist, only to be redone in the car mirror. Dresses tried on and captured by an Iphone from every angle to be reviewed and texted to her friends before considering. Hundreds of dresses to be hung up in the dressing rooms of many many stores. All nice, hip and trendy, smart, elegant, perfect, in fact. All fitting perfectly, but something not quite right each time.

Until the unanimous report comes in that alas! This dress is perfect (My daughter says, you have to be careful shopping with other girls because they will tell you a dress looks good on you just so they can look better than you at the dance. Her grandmother, who is ninety-two, agrees with her.)

I get tired of all her shopping and primping. Put raspberries in your hair, my daughter. You are only this young for a minute.

Day Seventy-Two/ Image Seventy-Two

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

This is a tuna steak. Raw. In front of a building in China. I did it only for aesthetic reasons. Don’t you get that? Loving the colors.The photographer who painstakingly took these pictures for my records knew it was a tuna steak. I don’t think I would know that.

He is a gourmet cook and therefore probably has it cooked on the grill or some other luxurious way. And doesn’t think of tuna the way I do. In a can or presented in the form of an ice cream scooped mold on a lettuce leaf.

I am highly impressed with people who cook. I used to cook. I made desserts from Northern Italy and I stuffed curried mashed potatoes into eggplant skins. I used to make my own spaghetti sauce and not ever used sauce in a bottle. (I think pasta companies put that stuff in see-through jars so we can see the finished product is not corrosive.)

Cooking used to be an elegant expression of myself. Since our daughter came into our lives, and the pediatrician told me, a shocked vegetarian, to feed her Gerber’s veal and lamb in a jar, we eat things I never would have begun to eat. Meatloaf and spaghettios. Granola bars and Nutella. Nuggets. Corn dogs. Even sloppy joes. On white bread buns.

Now that I am gluten free and our daughter is going off to college, I think I am easing back to more culinary ways.