Art Therapy Helps Wounded Soldiers

When I saw the above headline, I remembered writing this article several years ago. I dug it out of my documents to post here. I've pushed a lot of paint the last 35 years, and I've been aware for a long time about 'The Healing Side of Art'.

The Healing Side of Art
by
Frances Bennett

Have you ever seen pink bulls grazing in the early light of dawn? Would you like to glimpse a pink world for a little whole and record it on canvas?
The sun is rising over our farm this morning, making its way through a colored fog and shedding pink light over everything it touches. The farm buildings have a rose colored glow, and two Charolias bulls grazing in a pasture behind our house look as if they are outlined in iridescent pink.
I am seeing this through the eyes of an artist. I find myself critiquing the Lord’s artwork, analyzing every cast and grade shadow, attempting to sear the image into my being.
There is one other thing I need to see before the light changes. I hurry to a front window and look across the field to my neighbor’s home. I know what I will see, but I never tire of this scene. Her windows are aflame with the reflection of sunrise.
After a while, the brilliance begins to fade, and I reluctantly let it go. I will tuck this memory away and call on it another day when I paint. I am comforted, imagining how this would look on canvas. I turn from the window to begin household chores. I automatically work, and my thoughts go back several years to the weekly adult oil painting class I taught.
My friend, Jeanette, was always the first one there. She helped me get things in order from the children’s class and put clean newspaper on the tables. We usually had a few minutes before the others arrived. Sometimes, she talked about the death of her husband in a nursing home fire, and how she looked forward to painting each Thursday. As the weeks passed, I watched her relax and become totally engrossed in her work.
During class, I made rounds periodically, checking the work of each person in order to catch mistakes in the early stages. I’d known most of my students for years, and one night as I stopped at each table, I suddenly realized how many tragic stories were in that room. I was grateful to have a small part in helping these people put their troubles aside for two hours and be in their own world, a world where color leaps out at you and things come to life on canvas.
Rubye had a heart condition and was diabetic. She came to class with red and swollen feet, but her smile was always there. When she died, one of her class paintings rested on an easel beside her casket. After the visitation, I had a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow. I cried all the way home. That lump wasn’t much better the day I packed her art supplies to send to her family.
Leon was the only man in class. We teased him and told him that he put a damper on our conversations. He was in constant pain, but this didn’t stop him from having a good time. It was painful for anything to touch his arms, so even in winter, he wore short sleeves. Several times during class, he stopped painting and exercised his arms and hands. I placed his floor easel by the heater where he stood to paint.
Every few weeks, the subject came up of how art had caused everyone to see colors differently, and how they noticed things they always knew were there, but had never really seen. They sometimes painted at home and brought their work for me to critique.
Jeanette had taken art for a year when her son died. We were on a holiday break, and his death was during this time. She asked if our Antioch Church of Christ group would sing. We gladly did so, and resumed painting after New Years. Jeanette was glad to be back, and told us how she wished for art classes following his death.
My students learned to paint wind-blown skies with ochre fields of waving grass. Their imaginations soared, sometimes adding an old fence, far-off birds in flight, or a hollow tree. I told them to be nervous as they added squiggly branches to the larger limbs. They responded that it would be easy, because they were already nervous. I noticed as class progressed, their hands were much steadier and they were more relaxed.
Now and then, someone created a happy accident. Although they didn’t have enough experience to recognize it, after I explained what they had done and why they should leave it, their self-confidence had a big boost. I assured them that with time, they would know instantly.
I’ve touched on the lives of three students, but there are untold stories concerning the others. There is great satisfaction in seeing the amazement of people as they realize they are actually learning to paint. But the greatest gift of all, is seeing the inner peace that comes through the healing side of art.

Paintings and Techniques

We just finished a snow scene in art class. Several of my students are new, but I was pleased with the outcome on all their pictures. I'll throw in a few tips, and those of you who are interested in learning to paint, contact me and if there is enough interst shown, I'll have a small booklet published with just basic stuff that will enable anyone to turn out a picture.
In this snow scene, we started with the sky and came forward. Notice how small the cabin is. It is not the focal point, but lets us know that we are in a remote but civilized area. The sky has a hint of yellow ochre, warmth, that we also picked up in the grass.The dark green stand of cedar trees bring the scene forward and is reflected in the creek that is partially thawed. If you listen real hard, you can hear the stillness of a cold winter day.

Christian Books set in the late 1800's.

To purchase The Winds of September, click on the book cover picture above and read this book before my next one comes out. For a signed copy,($23.00 includes mailing) contact me at francesbennett7@gmail.com, or Frances Bennett, 1359 Hwy. 3121, Spearsville, La. 71277. Enjoy following this family through their struggles to live in a wilderness and prosper.

Louisiana Art- Woods and Weather

Spring came last Saturday, March 20, a balmy morning. By Sunday,tiny snow flakes peppered down as we attended church. Back to the 70's Monday afternoon, and today supposed to be 75. I've already walked this Tuesday morning, going through a creek bottom that's on our land,not too far from my house. The beavers damn up the creek occasionally, and turtles plunge off a log as I go by. I'm constantly comparing colors, planning the next painting for my art class. A red-tailed hawk that I see frequently is busy flying among the trees. The hunting must be good here. I feel in my pack to reassure myself that my small pistol is there. Cougars are spotted off and on in our neck of the woods. I nervously look around as birds stir the dry leaves. This morning, among rolling hills, there is the distant blue on far off trees. I understand this is caused from minute bits of moisture filtering the sunlight and splitting the light rays, which in turn alters the spectral colors in the light. I accomplish this in class by painting wet trees into a wet skyline, then adding graduating darks and lights. Time to get ready for my Tuesday class.

The Art Part of The Winds of September Cover

Notice how the sky colors of yellow, pink, blue, and white bounce off the hillside. The dark and light patches on her face give depth and fullness to her features. Dark colors recede, light colors come toward you unless you are painting a landscape, then it works totally backward. A far off field would be light colored growing darker as it comes forward. Notice Judith's dress, the dark part of the ruffle signifies depth, the light blue gives fullness. The light is coming from the right side of her body,(to us looking on, the left) giving fullness to the puffy sleeve.
Her shadow and the dark places at her feet anchor her to the ground. To see this cover art, go to: http://www.bookstandpublishing.com/book_details/The_Winds_of_September

After two weeks of computer trouble and finally buying a new one, I'm ready to begin a combination of writing and art posts. I had painted a front cover for my first book, The Journey, but I decided it was too busy to work well with the title and information on the back cover. The scene was of my grandmother walking uphill from a creek that was nestled in a valley, where the wagon train had stopped for the night, surrounded by pines and cedars. She carried a bucket of water and a shotgun, unaware that a grey wolf on a hillside behind her was making his way down to drink. I studied what I should have left off, and when I finished the manuscript for my next book, I knew what to paint.
On the cover of The Winds of September, Judith Hodge stands in a prairie field with her home, a Texas soddy, in the background. In order to keep her sanity, about once a week, Judith puts on her best dress and goes for a walk by herself. I wanted to capture here the effect of constant prairie winds. Notice how her dress and sash blow backward, and how the tall grass bends in the same direction, the underside dark with highlights on top. I constantly strive for contrast when I paint, and here, the sky color reflects off her arms, and is even picked up in the ground cover. More about Judith in my next post.

The Healing Side of Art

Long before I became a writer, I was, and still am, an artist. At the present time,I teach a weekly oil painting class and have for decades. Years ago,as I walked and checked my students work before mistakes were too far gone to correct, I suddenly realized how many tragic stories were represented in that room. But for these two hours, troubles were put on a back shelf. We laughed, and rejoiced over what I refer to as 'happy accidents'. We introduced ochre grass against gray wind blown skies, falling wooden fence posts, with an old barn in the background that brought back childhood memories of farm work.
If there is enough response to my posts on painting, my plans are to have a small booklet printed with simple starting tips on creating a work of art at home. I'd love to hear from you. My email: (francesbennett7@gmail.com). I'll never forget that magical feeling when I first began to paint and watched as the colors came to life on my canvas. If you've never experienced that, it's hard to explain. Anyone can learn to paint. True enough, some are better at it than others, but it's as unique to each person as their hand writing.
I painted the cover for my latest book, The Winds of September, which is set in the late 1800's, and is a story about homesteading in an Appalachian Valley of Tennessee. In my next post, I'll explain some steps involved in creating this image. View it at www.bookstandpublishing.com/book_details/The_Winds_of_September.