I made this painting just after The Poltroon Hard at Work. I wanted to express the idea of being consumed with thoughts of someone else. In this case, the girl sitting on the sofa is being haunted by thoughts of the girl on the ceiling. It's called Living Ghost to convey that she is not being haunted by a spirit but rather someone still alive. This implies a rift between the two girls, the possibility that renewal is there, but the presence of difficult circumstances, rendering the situation hopeless.






















Living Ghost
acrylic on canvas
2011
about 4'x 3'

Most people know this experience, especially when romantic love is lost. It can be agonizing learning how to let go of a relationship over time.

The same agony can happen over a broken friendship, and may even be worse because of how unexpected it can be to lose someone you never thought you could "break up" with.

The painting expresses the idea of this more than the feeling.

The magazine in the table is this:


















Judith Eisler made the painting on the cover. She was my drawing teacher one semester of art school.

And the Corgi is, well, I want a Corgi.






















The space reflects the type of place I'd like to inhabit one day.

Questions or comments about this painting are welcome, either via the comment section below or by emailing beth@bethmeadows.com.

I'm currently in New York City, arrived Wednesday morning and leaving bright and early Monday. I'm here with my friend Amanda, staying with Luke and Jess, friends who just moved here a couple of months ago, living the dream in Manhattan.


Beautiful Amanda

The first time I visited New York was by way of an RV with six other people. We stayed at an RV park in Jersey City. Great view of the Statue of Liberty from across the river and the most perfect spot to be murdered in a dimly lit bathroom late at night.

Together we spent 12 hours on Times Square on December 31, 2007. It was the worst, but we came, and we conquered.

The second time, I came with my friend Amelia. We did a lot of touristy things, visited friends, and ate a lot of good food.

This is my third trip and nothing like the first two.


Pratt gym

I'm here with a different perspective, taking in everything without the use of a hand held map or asking too many people for directions. I read on the subway. I eat delicious meals by myself and sink deep in thought and daydreams. I meet Amanda for an $8 afternoon beer to talk about our day. Later, we meet Jess and Luke for dinner at a restaurant they've discovered and want to share with us.

It's about time for that beer, but first...


Bobcat in Luke and Jess's bedroom on the Upper West Side

This trip is different because I'm trying to figure out if I could live here.

"Why?!?" my 23-25ish-year-old-self asks.

I never thought back then I'd be doing this, but I'm looking at art schools here. I've always thought about grad school, but never pursued it. I'm grateful this process has begun, to begin to figure out if this is for me.

It was a great decision to come here with all my questions. I've been given a wealth of information over the past three days by students, professors, advisers, and department heads of some of the top art schools in the country and world. I've moseyed through pristine, glittery buildings and crummy, gigantic, wonderful studios. I've seen woodshops, printshops, computer labs, darkrooms, and in-house galleries.

Common threads run throughout each school's spiel. Each wants to see a cohesive body of work from their applicants. They want students who are ready, mostly somewhere in between recent undergrad and a professional artist (this is me). They want to see great images of their best work. It's good to see work that spans across different mediums as long as it isn't too scattered.



They tell you how much you are going to work, how tight-knit the students become, how students dabble in their own curating, converting any space they can into galleries. They all speak of studio visits by established artists, curators, galleries, and how important those meetings are over time.

Most of the people I've spoken with graduated from an MFA program in New York. Some are honest, telling me they haven't painted in years. Some said they realized a long time ago they'd never make it as an artist, but are content working in an art-related field.

I've been given me a lot to think about.

The words that have resonated the most with me go something like this: It doesn't matter how fancy a school is or how much guidance is given. Once you are inside their walls, it's all about what you can do. Art school can't make a person an artist. You either have it or you don't.

My appointments are finished, so tonight and this weekend should be fun, relaxed, and inspiring. When Monday rolls around, I'll be ready to come back home, anxious to pick up with everything that needs to be done, and by that, I mean, I am dying to paint.

The Poltroon Hard at Work (Athena and Cyclops)
by Beth Meadows
acrylic on canvas
2011, about 3'x2'

currently on display and for sale at Old City Java


pol·troon (pälˈtro͞on): Noun: A coward.

This painting features a girl and a boy listening to records. The male is in fact the poltroon, rendering the title sarcastic. The girl is turned away conveying distance, but she sits close, showing a hesitant affection. She is alone even though she is with him.

On the walls are two paintings, one of an owl, a symbol of Athena, and one of Cyclops with two cats.

The boy is Cyclops. He lives alone but has two cats, possibly the only creatures who can tolerate him day to day. He masks his insecurity and loneliness with pompous masculinity. He sees less with his one eye, making him unperceptive, ignorant.

The girl is insecure but it takes effect differently than the boy's. She longs for him even while knowing he isn't right for her. She is the owl, or Athena, unrealized. Over time, the girl will take on attributes of Athena as a result of experiences like this.

On the surface, all seems well.


Please contact beth@bethmeadows.com if you are interested in purchasing this painting or a limited edition print of it.

I'm currently showing paintings at Old City Java, located at 109 South Central Avenue throughout the month of June. If you're in Knoxville, please stop in and see them.



A little about how the show came about:

At the beginning of May, I self-willingly went part time as the admin assistant at Knox Heritage in order to paint more. As difficult as a decision like that is, it was also necessary and important for me to make. It felt like jumping off a cliff, and most of May was like a free fall where I wasn't sure if my parachute would deploy or not, or if I even had a parachute at all.

May ended up being great. I worked ridiculously hard, and it ended up being successful. With the beginning of each month, however, I'm afraid it will keep feeling like a free fall.

My grand plan regarding art was to take a break from showing in order to focus on producing, but after receiving an email in mid-May from Java's owner about potentially showing art there, I booked myself a show for June.



As stressful as I knew it would be to prepare for a show in three weeks is, it was necessary. Without a deadline, I am pretty worthless in the realm of art-making. With this deadline, I ended up making three large new paintings and several small ones in a short amount of time, most likely breaking a personal record. It made me slightly crazy, but it was worth it. After hanging the show last week, I took a break for a few days. Now, a week later, I feel lost without a deadline, so I'm figuring out how to handle that.

A little about the show itself:



If you go to Java, the first room you'll walk into holds paintings from this year, and the second room holds Mason Jar Paintings from this year as well as large paintings from 2010. If you like what you see, check back here for more detailed explanations of some of the paintings. And keep in mind; they're all for sale.



In the meantime, here's my artist statement:

THE ARTIST



Originally from Memphis, Beth has rooted herself as an artist in Knoxville since Attending the University of Tennessee. She received a Bachelor of Fine Art in Studio Art with a concentration in drawing. She is a co-founder and co-manager of 17th Street Studios, a work space for eleven artists in Fort Sanders. Her primary medium is acrylic on canvas.






















THE WORK

The Preserves Series:

Painting mason Jars on salvaged wood is inspired by my position as the Architectural Salvage Coordinator for Knox Heritage. Each is a tribute to the valuable work of historic preservation.






















Paintings on canvas:

My favorite time of day is dusk. It reminds me of being outside as a kid
    the way telephone wires and trees become silhouettes against a glowing blue sky
    how a train horn blowing in the distance is wonderfully haunting
    the emergence of tiny flickering lightning bugs
    streetlamps and porch lights switching on
    and how grateful I was to be called inside before darkness fell.
When I paint, I think about the connection between childhood and adulthood. Though circumstances change, we experience joy and pain with each day, no matter what age. We grow and mature but sometimes discover we are not very different from when we were young.






















CONTACT

Email: beth@bethmeadows.com
Website: www.bethmeadows.com
Blog: www.withbearhands.com
Shop: www.etsy.com/shop/WithBearHands

When people ask me what artists I admire or inspire me, I feel a little uneasy. For one, I remember work, but not always who made it. Two, the art that most directly inspires me isn't typically found in a museum but rather on my bookshelf.

This leads me to confess something. I am a children's book buying addict.

I'm not addicted to just any children's book but particular ones motivate me to paint more than most things can. For one, the books I grew up with take me back to my shy and quiet childhood. Because most of my paintings are based on memories, this is important. Two, I enjoy the simplicity of line, shape, and color- the flatness of the pictures.

The quintessential example, the book that got me thinking about the paintings I wanted to make in college, is Space Case by James Edward Marshall. The characters, the colors against a nighttime sky, his attention to mundane details, the humor. It's wonderful.


^color against black


^characters


^This is the first drawing I did where I pursued this subject matter. It was 2005, and I replaced the characters with some characters I know. I apologize for the poor quality of this image.

One of my favorite things to do is go to McKays used bookstore and follow the little kid footprints to the children's section. There, amongst the moms, elementary teachers, and small children, I find peace sifting through colorful books, looking for treasures I've missed. I've found many by Marshall, and I buy them all.

One of my favorite finds is Yummers, a story about a turtle named Eugene who encourages his pig friend Emily to exercise more. They go on a walk, which turns into them stopping every few minutes to eat snacks. They eat so much, Emily becomes sick, has to lie down, and blames her woes on the walk. Eugene brings her food to make her feel better.

Brilliant.

I also love this book because on the back is the first photo of Marshall I had ever seen. Of course he would have a precious bulldog.

After this, I decided to write him a letter to express my gratitude to him, but when I searched online for an address, I discovered he had passed away in 1992. I dedicated my last show at the Tomato Head to him instead of writing the letter.

Some have asked if I'd like to write/ illustrate a children's book one day. I have an idea for one, and my goal is to write and illustrate it by the time I'm 55. (I've tried to sit down and do it. It's hard) Until then, I'm making somber, funny, color-against-black, simple yet complex paintings on canvas. I'm also dreaming of how great it would be to talk to this mustached man.

This blog has had one public follower (or what I like to call, a member of the With Bear Hands Dream Team) since almost the beginning, and her name is Alice Mayo.

Alice, because of your public affection for me/this blog. I would like to give you something. What do you want? A mason jar?:






















a drawing of you and your pretty red hair, done in a similar manner as this?:






















 (note: I'll probably end up drawing you anyway, even if you don't ask me to)

I want to say thank you, so show me how.

As for the rest of you nice people lurking in the shadows, may this be incentive to check back here in the future. I'm up to my ears in artwork, and I may just use this blog as a means to play out a fleeting moment of generosity.

I've been having trouble writing recently. I keep starting posts and not finishing them. My words feel forced, and I can't find the right words to express anything.

During this mental block, here is a list of some things I wish that I had the eloquence to write about, to hopefully ignite a journalistic flame.

1. my most recent painting about a man and a woman and their similarities to Cyclops and Athena

2. how I am about to go part time at Knox Heritage starting next week and how this makes me anxious, nervous, and extremely excited

3. how I hope that more time to work on certain projects does not turn into me lazing about my apartment with Juicy

4. my recent infatuation with intelligent, kind, and respectable men rather than my former infatuation with... the opposite...

5. how surprising the depth of my sadness is that my neighbor Hunter and his dog have just moved

6. how tornadoes have got me thinking about my masked materialism

7. how my last trip to the mall was transformational, how it resulted in me going on a jog instead of drinking beer, and how I can't get my mind off a particular purple BCBG dress (bizarre)

8. how I really want shoes that are "architectural" (also bizarre)

9. wondering if one can be fashionable and not materialistic at the same time

10. the BS that is existentialism

11. moving to a bigger city

12. how another friend moving away has gotten me thinking about my past inability to be honest with others/myself, and my current gratefulness to be in a healthier emotional state

13. how the selling of my grandfather's lakehouse feels like him dying again and also like closing a door to my childhood

14. how wanting to lead a simpler life has me wondering what that means for all the boxes I've filled over the years with the intention to make scrapbooks

15. how trivia night might be the most productive way to drink beer

16. The lore of Juicy- how she came to me, why I love her, and why she makes me not want to have children

17. the intricacies of being friends with males (and by friends I mean just friends)

18. How the moving away of friends means the probability of new people to enter my life. I wonder who the lucky ones will be...

19. How I've been incessantly listening to dance music, the reasons and implications of this (listen at your own risk/don't judge me)

20. How, like John Mayer (who I used to make fun of my freshman year roommate for listening to, but now I admittedly really like), I desire for myself and the people I love to be able to say what's on our minds and in our hearts.

On that note that makes me feel a little vulnerable, here's to future eloquence.

I'm not going to lie. The end of March almost killed me, but I asked for it. I had two art openings the night of April 1, one solo show at Magpies and The Salvage Show which was my first shot at curating. Although it was fun, I vow never to take on that much while also working full time.






















What made things even trickier was that a nine day family vacation to Colorado fell smack dab in the middle of the month. This meant a week not making work, but it also meant time to think and talk about being an artist at a distance from my studio. I had some great conversations with my family members, especially my "cousin" (I still don't really know what her exact relation is) Catherine who had previously bought a painting from me but had never had a chance to ask me about it.

It amazes me how I never tire from talking about making art. The older I become, the more immersed I am in it. I have to catch myself when I realize I've been going on and on, but I'm always happy for a chance to talk with anyone who has honest questions about the things I make.






















On this subject, I had an interesting thing happen to me on the way back from Denver. My sisters, brother-in-law, and I missed our flight to Nashville. We didn't actually miss the flight as much as we missed the doors being open to the flight. The plane was still there, but we could not get on it.

While my blood was still boiling from this incident, I noticed a familiar face in the line behind us at Customer Service. I had actually forgotten his name but knew he was an Art & Architecture professor at UT. I went up to him after I cooled down and found out he had missed his flight to Knoxville.


















This otherwise long story short is that we all ended up getting on a later flight to Nashville and the professor, otherwise known as Ryann, ended up getting a ride with me back to Knoxville.

This unplanned trip home ended up being a bit profound. It was like a prolonged college advising session, or what I'd imagine a psycho-analysis would be like. (All this happening after midnight is funny, too, considering I usually shut down around 10 most nights)

The point is, our conversation made a lot of circling thoughts I've been having straighten out. It usually takes bouncing them off someone else to do that. It also takes the right person kicking me in the ass every once in a while.






















So I returned from my trip, scratched most of the plans I had had for each show, and made all new work with the time I had left. The giving up part was hard- not being able to follow through on the things I had planned, but it was an easy decision to make at the same time because I was going in a direction I wanted.






















The result of this shift was also good for me mentally and helped me want to be more adamant about some things. I'd like to quit putting the work that is most important to me on the back burner. I'd like to quit focusing so much on what the viewer's response will be about what I make. I want to embrace not knowing exactly why I am making what I am making. I also realize that having my hand in art and fifty other things is killing all of them, slowly, but surely. And I need to be in conversation with others that can remind me to keep on track. What is nice is that all of this seems to have started a domino effect of good conversation in the past couple of weeks.


















So during this time of "introspection," these are the drawings I made for my show at Magpies. I don't have a photo yet of the building I drew, but below is the photograph of it that I also used in the show. In the meantime, here is the artist statement:

It has been six years since I last made portraits like this. Back then, they served as a necessary stepping stone toward realizing the art I wanted to create.

I see these self-portraits and drawings of friends in much the same way, reminding me to be more connected to what I am making.

For me, there is a similarity between looking at a beautiful old building and thinking about certain friendships. Each involves an appreciation, love, fondness for someone or something despite imperfections.