PHILIP DEAL BOOKS
brighter, more colorful, less colorful, more like me, less like me, like I want it, like he wants it, if she wants it, when I want it, where it should be!
Snorkel Face Phil. Acrylic on wood board, balsa, sea shells, and eye pieces, with unpainted glass rods. Frame boards cut by Jennifer McCoy, then painted and assembled by artist.
My wife asked me to find a place for a new piece of furniture, so while she was out one afternoon I placed her new shelves under a painting in our living room, then covered the shelves with some of my art and photos!
Each of these pieces is finished in a beautiful two-part resin, a product offered by my good friends at Art Resin. I love using this resin because it adds a high-quality sheen to any kind of art, and because it is completely safe to use. I work in a carpeted room, with a large carpet remnant under my work table, and I feel completely comfortable applying resin there.
The above painting was done on wood. My sister cuts my mitered side boards for me, which I then paint and assemble into boxes. Art Resin pulls my finished pieces together nicely, and makes my art distinctive. The resin finish is very eye catching, and creates an instant subject of discussion: How did you do that? What is that?
I love using resin on acrylics. The finish works beautifully with acrylic colors, and it’s fun being able to tell people Go ahead and pick it up. You can’t hurt it.
I also use Art Resin for colored pencil pieces. I sometimes use inexpensive cuts of wood, or irregular cuts, to create unique shapes. A resin finish then turns the outside edges into attractive borders.
Art resin works beautifully with photographs, and by painting the outside edges of my underwater photos different colors I’m able to create interesting underwater art.
Here’s my next piece, set up before board assembly, or resin application…
and to wrap up, let’s go back to the very beginning, my studio and work table ready for applying resin!
Check out Art Resin to learn more. Their site is full of videos and photos and tips, and they have the most complete and helfpul FAQs I’ve ever seen.
Every painting takes away and gives. The taking from is always my fault, and should never be blamed on the art I’m trying to make.
I curse when my finger drags through chalky black pastel, forcing me to enter the always risky land of “removing.”
Each time I find paint smeared on the handle of a brush, or on the outside of my hand, which happens every single time I paint and should therefore be expected, I act as if an evil spirit has inhabited my studio for the sole purpose of keeping me from succeeding.
In the end, magically, all this taking doesn’t matter. I look at what I have done, and smile. Look, I think, even an over-emotional high-strung eccentric can make art. And then I thank art, for not caring about my deficiencies, for ignoring my imperfections, for inviting me back to the one place I have found that welcomes anyone willing to try.
When my daughter says Daddy a certain way,
as if tiptoeing my name into the ocean
to find out how warm I am,
I know what’s coming.
A game of What if My Name Was?
or Can You Do This?
No, Not Like That, I said
Whatever she does next,
her headstand from a crooked tripod,
that folded guru yoga pose
no one should be able to do,
I twist, gyrate, and contort
burning to shape This into