Four years ago I took a break from illustrating to work for my brother and his wife at Bandito in the wonderful, not for the faint hearted, world of special effects. The experience, ranging from muttering incoherently at 3am at state-of-the-art computer technology to the dizzy Emmys, deserves a post of it's own another time. Except to say, I enjoyed it so much it's taken me until recently to drag myself away and back to painting. So in the past couple of weeks, paint brush in hand, I've been muttering incoherently at 3am in a state-of-the-artist-without-an-'Undo'-button manner to the buzz of a daylight blub.
In between Bandito contracts I've worked on the odd children's book but it's been a while since I painted a canvas. I wouldn't say I felt rusty, more Tin Man before he was oiled. Added to which I planted a small explosive under my oil can by committing to hanging my paintings at a friend's, interior magazine worthy abode, house warming party. Working out roughs, painting only in natural light and artist's block was not an option in the little time I had, so I lent on the subjects and style I used to do for Habitat and Ikea.
I barely, if at all, touched the canvas with a pencil before I started painting. I'm an illustrator who has every possible line down and perfected before picking up a paint brush, so I find this off-piste approach exciting and unnerving at the same time. I'd forgotten how much I love having only a loose idea where I'd like it to end up and less control in the process. Whilst I would have liked to explore a new subject or push these ones further, I met the deadline, and I can work on that next. Most importantly I've made a start, and I'm not feeling so rusty tin, more hop, wobble and skipping straw.
To Oz!
Elena Gomez
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