Hi Everyone,
Welcome to my new and improved blog where you will learn about the answers to essential art questions. You’re here today because although you know how to apply a varnish to your painting you aren't sure how to remove it. It’s funny how little things such as this are thought to be innate for an artist but in reality, it isn’t! We learn so much in school such as how to paint properly, how to write, and how to explore alternative areas of expertise. But rarely do schools teach us fundamentals such as how to varnish let alone remove one. I’m here to make removing your varnish easy!

What is a varnish 
Before we discuss how to remove a varnish let's review what a varnish is. Varnish is a top coat layer that enhances the color of a painting while also serving as a protective layer for the painting. Paintings possess pocket holes similar to pores. When a varnish is applied it protects the surface creating a barrier coating that protects it from dirt, oils, UV rays, and yellowing. They’re two categories of varnishes (removable and permeant ) and various finishes (Gloss, matte, satin). However, the best varnish to use on your paintings is removable varnish for archival purposes in the future. 


How to Remove a varnish. 
Materials List: Gloves, respirator, mineral spirits, Liquitex soluvar varnish, Lint-free cloth, Plastic bucket or metal tray, plastic sheet the size of the rags. 

To begin we will prep all of your materials with your gloves and respirator on before removing the varnish. Pour the mineral spirits, enough to fill the bottom of your bucket or tray. Before removing the varnish from the entire painting start with removing the varnish from a corner of the painting. Starting with a test will familiarize you with the process and test the effects of removing a varnish. If this is your first time removing a varnish start with testing an area of the painting before removing the varnish from the entire painting. Starting with the text begin start with your mineral spirit solvent. 


Varnish Removal Test:


1.) After pouring the mineral spirits cut a square out of your lint cloth  and soak the square in your tray or bucket. 


2.) When the cloth is saturated wring out any excess solution from the cloth. Apply the square to one corner of the painting  with the plastic sheet over the cloth to prevent the mineral spirits from evaporation.  


3.)Smooth out the cloth removing bubbles allowing the entire cloth to touch the panting surface. 


4.) After two minutes lift a corner of the rag to ensure the varnish liquified. If the varnish hasn’t leave the rag on for another two minutes. 


5.) Using the cloth that is on the surface flip it over and proceed with folding it in half. Wipe the varnish off of the painting top to bottom once. 


6.) Using a second cloth repeat steps 1-5  to another section of the painting. 


7.) Repeat Steps 1-5 until the varnish is removed from the entire painting  
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Welcome to my virtual studio. I'm Brittany , a Houston fine artist that specializes in 3D artworks inspired science. My goal is to make one of a kind well crafted art accessible to everyone! Quality art should not only be available to the wealthy. All products created are inspired by youthhood nostalgia with planets, rainbows, and doodle art subject matters. Each product offered is shipped with eco-friendly materials that are compostable or recyclable. Every creation captures the spirit of wonder that is within us all. Imagine a time of the past where you’ve experienced listening to your favorite song which filled your heart with so much joy or even your favorite popsicle as a child on a hot summer day. That feeling is the feeling my artworks capture which becomes wonder that can be given. Tour my studio below to see where I create these unique pieces of wonder!

Once upon a time in a distant time far far away little Britt had two favorite uncles. Uncle Matt is my father's eldest brother while Uncle Miles is my father's baby brother. Britt both little and big is very protective over both uncles. Like a mama bear protecting a baby cub, I will maul anyone when it comes to either Uncle. But today’s tale is dedicated to Uncle Miles. Although my Uncle Miles is one of my favorite uncles he didn’t always start off that way. When I was 3 I met my Uncle for the first time after he retired from the Army. Oddly enough I can recall the day I met him (My memory is a steel trap ). I had just woken up from a nap at my Nanny’s house, my father's older cousin. As I began walking down the hallway I saw an unfamiliar figure towards its end.

Nanny: "Brittany come here I want you to meet your Uncle Miles. This is your Daddy’s baby brother."

Uncle Miles: "Hi Britt Britt."

In this instance I was silent and thought to myself they are all lying to me. This guy looks nothing like my dad nor is he close to my dad's skin tone to be his brother. After that whenever, Uncle Miles was around, and trust me he was around I would run away. He was at my grandparents' house, my nanny’s house, and even at my house. Eventually a few happy meals down and I became down for Uncle Miles. Uncle Miles equaled gifts! Fast-forwarding four years later I wanted a life-size Barbie after watching a commercial with my uncle.

Little Britt: "Uncle Miles! Christmas is coming up and I’m sure you have no idea what to get me!"

Uncle Miles: "Oh no Britt Britt I don’t! What might you want?"

Little Britt: "Well I would love that life-size Barbie we just saw!"

Uncle Miles: "That one? Ok, I’ll get that one."

A few days later: me, my mother, and uncle miles were sitting in our living room. I sat in my favorite spot next right next to my uncle.
Uncle Miles: "Britt Britt I don’t know if I’ll be able to get your doll for Christmas".

Little Britt: "What! ahem ahem (clear through insert voice change to an innocent little girl) But Uncle Miles remember you promised me that doll. Promises are meant to be kept. Don’t you want to be a good example for me?"

Uncle Miles: "Wellllllllll Britt Britt".

This was the time I learned never to manipulate your uncle in front of your mother! In my mother's defense, she was only doing what was right. Which was reversing the effects of manipulation I learned from her mother, my heart and soul who's tactics I still use on a daily at work to this day!

Mom: "You are not getting that doll it’s too expensive! "

Uncle Miles: "Well Mary I did promise her".

Mom: "What is this she's six and you're letting her manipulate you. She is not getting it and that’s the end of it! She’s a kid Miles and you have to put your foot down."
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Christmas Day I woke up to tons of toys under the tree! That year I received a new Sega genesis, a microphone, a bop it, and my life-size Barbie! My uncle was able to find a loophole in my mothers' words. He didn’t get me the name brand Barbie I wanted he technically didn’t go against what she said because she said don't get that Barbie! Technicalities were the loopholes all three brothers used when it came down to me getting what I wanted when my mom was involved. Now they might not have lived at the end of the day after my mom found out but they thought at least I would be happy!

Which came first your interest in jewelry or art? Oddly enough this is the most frequent question I'm  asked when strangers find out about either subject involving me.  Luckily my age-old riddle is a simple solution unlike the story of the chicken vs the egg. Before I knew I had artistic abilities I loved rocks and minerals. According to my mother, my fascination with rocks began when I learned how to walk. Although I don’t remember the yesteryears of toddlerhood  I do recall my love for each specimen from the earliest age of 4. Their colors, formations, and variations captivated me filling me with such joy. Imagine that feeling you get when you score a deal on a sale or when you finally buy that purse or wallet you’ve had your eye on for years. Yeah, that feeling! That's the feeling I get when I find a rock or complete a new painting. My fascination didn’t stop with just rocks either it extended into cut gemstones as well. My paternal grandmother was an exceptionally glamorous woman that possessed an impeccable jewelry collection. At least once every day after tea time I would peek inside her jewelry box of treasures. Yes, I said tea time my grandmother ran a tight ship of classic etiquette values within her home.

Four-year-old Britt: “I drank my tea may I go to the bathroom?”
Grandma: “yes you may”
After going to the bathroom I would always make a pit stop to the jewelry box of wonders on her vanity. I would look but never touch.
Grandma: Brittany what are you doing?
Four-year-old Britt: “I’m just looking”

​Through her treasure trove, I became acquainted with aquamarines, pearls, and diamonds, my first best friends. The reflections of dancing light captivated me one stone at a time. Each stone was magical and glimmered differently within the light. My encounter with the glimmering lights inspired me to obtain a Bachelor of Arts and a graduate gemologist degree.  Long story short my interest in jewelry, rocks, and minerals came first but also influenced my interest in art.  Both art and rocks have a point of convergence throughout history. Organic and inorganic rocks were used to create paints before the creation of synthetic alternatives. The vivid colors in paintings captivate me in the same way as the glimmering lights of gemstones.

This week I will be unveiling a new rainbow painting for pride month. With this painting, I wanted to have fun and explore new aspects of painting. Art doesn't have to be serious nor moody. Sometimes the process of making art is more important than its meaning or message from the artist. I wanted to try to use a different color palate opting to use more pinks instead of my typical vivid blues color palate. Still striving to express the variations of memory and the connection of the past to the present I wanted to tap into the whimsical nature of youthhood it into adulthood.

It’s storytime Friday! 
Today I thought I would share a story with my dear lovely mother! One faithful Sunday in 1995 I played with my favorite toys as I always did on the weekends. As a child, I had a mixture of not only all of the popular toys in the ’90s. I loved fire trucks, the green power ranger, and barbies! My favorite Barbie was the cut and style Barbie! This was a magical barbie whose hair you could cut and re-attach using her hair extension. After a full day of cutting, I decided I wanted to be like barbie and took her mini scissors to my hair. I didn’t have her extensions so using my resources I used a barrette and re-attached my own hair. I thought everything was gold! I had a new hairdo and when I was done my hair was miraculously back like Barbies. The following Monday morning my mother woke me up early to style my hair for school. I sat at the dining room table on a high stack of phone books while my mom began to brush my hair. 
*BRUSH BRUSH BRUSH* 2 seconds would pass then 4 followed by 6. Suddenly each brushstroke began to be slower than the last until it stopped. The brush was replaced by her scurrying hand that swept across the back of my head. It was unlike my mother to abruptly stop doing my hair even though she hated doing hair. My mother couldn’t style hair to save her life. Anything she could have learned about hair her youth went out the window the moment she decided she hatted dolls. On many occasions, my father was my hairstylist. My dad could braid the cleanest braid in my hair compared to my mother. But this is Monday we're talking about! Dad left for work at 4:00 am along with my hopes for a miraculous hairstyle. After 10 minutes of silence, my mother began to speak. 

Mom: “Did you cut your hair?”
5-year-old Britt: “No”
Mom: “Yes you did! These are cut marks what did you do?”
5-year-old Britt “I cut it yesterday but it grew back”
Mom: “No it didn’t!  you just clipped cut hair back in your hair with a barrette ”

Fast forward 31 years later
Mom: " I knew you cut your hair I knew it! When I began to brush your hairpieces of it started to come out. My heart began to sink with each brush. Each time I brushed your hair more hair would come out. I thought to myself oh my gosh I left the kiddie relaxer in her hair too long. As I continued to brush I realized there was a straight cut in the back of your head with a barrette." 

31-year-old Britt: "Technically it was all your fault. You gave a kid a barbie that tricked kids into believing their hair would magically grow back. In my defense, I didn’t think I cut my hair. I thought it magically was re-attached like the Barbies."

 As I continued to talk suddenly I felt my Spidey senses tingling. Mary otherwise known as my mother was giving me a death glare. You know the glare, the one in the photo above if you need a point of reference. Long story short I learned never to play with scissors in my hair and still haven’t learned how to shut my mouth in the face of danger. Freedom of speech might be free but there are consequences with the freedom of whats said. But hey at least I got to say what I wanted. Some things never change even with age. 

Grandma: What are you reading?
5yr old Britt: A book about the planets. I want to be an astronaut when I grow up"
Grandma: Really! That's good baby. Knowledge is the best way to prepare for that journey. 

Memories of my grandmother are moments comprised of extreme exciting entertainment. My maternal grandmother was unpredictable, unlike my fathers' parents! Think of the black-footed cat from Africa. It's cute and teacup size but also the wolds deadliest cat possessing a hunt success rate of 60%. Observing my maternal grandmother was like watching a movie with the most twists and turns you could ever imagine. When Martha was on babysitting duties you were guaranteed the recipe for the best thriller! 

Recipe: Martha thriller a-la mode 
1 cup of drama equalling 1 guaranteed flip out moment
1/2 cup of a mental breakdown sesh 
2 cups of an awww moment which cancels out everything you just witnessed while you ate your popsicle and watched the show.  

Every Friday or sick day was comprised of this recipe whether she was triggered by her uncle, my grandfather, Claude, or my cousins. Despite everything regardless of the chaos, my grandmother taught me the importance of knowledge, determination, and endurance. Although my grandmother wasn't as elegant as my father's mother she was the most resilient grandparent I had. My grandmother was a single parent of four children and managed to get purchase her own house, car, and pay for higher education in the '50s. Resilience endowed from my grandmother is the leading motivator that empowers me and my desires
“The room of astronomical knowledge”  will be the third artwork in the "Home Sweet Home" series dedicated to my grandmother. Within the artwork lies her living room as I remember it from my childhood. Her living room reflects the 70s esthetic possessing brown shag carpets, a golden couch, and shiplap walls. Although her home is different than I remember it I will forever be known as a place of sprouting knowledge.  My hope now is in viewing  "The room of astronomical knowledge” will bring you, the viewer feel the same magnitude of empowerment I first experienced in this room while I imagine the untold stories of space.​
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As a child, I always felt alone unless I was with my grandparents. My brother is eight years older and he had his endeavors, my parents were older when they had me, and I was the only kid in my neighborhood. When I think back on my childhood I was misunderstood and I was bullied my kindergarten year until third grade when I switched schools. While I was in elementary I never quite fit in with the boys or girls in my class. The boys thought I had coodies and the girls wanted me to conform to their demands. Demands such as give me your Lunchable sticker or I won’t be your friend go tell this guy I love them and then I’ll really be your friend if you don’t do what I tell you then we won’t talk to you. I refused to be their flunky so I opted to be alone. When I tried to tell my teacher what was happening the teacher would just say don’t be a tattletale. I genuinely for the life of me had no idea why these girls when out of their way to make my days at school miserable. I never told my parents or my family what I was going through. I thought if my teacher didn’t care why would my parents. The only adult I told about my situation was my maternal grandma.

Grandma: "What’s wrong baby?"
6-year-old Britt: "These girls are mean to me in school."
Grandma: "Really! What do they do?"
6-year-old Britt: "They won’t play with me and make fun of me in front of the other kids. They talk about my hair and things I say."
(One of the reasons I don't wear braids as an adult)
Grandma: "The next time they make fun of you I want you to tell them this...."
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The next day I said exactly what my Grandma told me to say word for word to the Regina George of the group. Although I was able to express the internal aggression I possessed I was sent to the principles office by my grandmother's words.
When my mother came to pick me up the teacher told my mother what was said.
When the girls came over I proceeded to say “ You know what I’m tired of your sh*t! You can go ahead and say what you want now but by the time you turn 16 you’ll be stuck with a sh*t load of babies in a dead-end job alone with no one”. Looking back it might not have been the best thing to tell a six-year-old but it sure felt good! The girls were segregating me and treating me as an inferior individual. My grandma taught me how to stand up for myself because no one else would. She might have had brash solutions to any altercation but she was a fighter being a single mother of four. My grandmother's resilience continues to influence me when things seem gloomy. Although I'm a little scorned I'm grateful that it didn't affect me as badly as other people who have been bullied. My imagination was formed from instances such as this and I learned how to judge a person by their actions and not by the group​. 

As a child, I always cherished and valued art and drew during the most inopportune time. One day during an alphabet lesson my kindergarten teacher Mrs. Moon, discovered I wasn't focusing on the lesson. "Brittany! Are you drawing again?" "No, Mrs. Moon" I replied. She glanced at me with piercing eyes and immediately stopped what she was doing to walk over and see for herself if I was telling the truth. Mrs. Moon discovered I was telling the truth, but I also lied. She found five pages of doodles under my alphabet page. That day a letter was pinned to my shirt. Although the letter was sent home my mother never received it. Although I was young I wasn’t stupid. I knew never to give my mother that letter and never draw again because drawing meant trouble. For six years I stopped creating until I switched schools. During my fourth grade year, I met Mrs. Grimes my art teacher at Presbyterian school.

Our first assignment was to sketch a still life of bottles. I didn't focus hard on drawing; my abilities were always overlooked so there was no need to try to gain attention I thought. After I finished, Mrs. Grimes asked the class who drew the bottles she held in her hand. Frightened I rose my hand and confessed to creating the picture she held. As I watched her put my name on the picture and put it in her bag I thought oh well it was nice to live to see fourth grade at least. After school, I walked to my mother's classroom at the end of the hall. When I arrived I could see my mother’s stern eyes as I stood in the doorway. " Mrs. Grimes came to speak to me about your classwork." My mother stated. "She believes you have an eye for art and that you should consider pursuing art as a profession."
Mrs. Grimes believed in me when no one else knew I existed. she made me realize the talents I possessed and the profession I wanted to pursue in life. 20 years later I still talk to Mrs. Grimes and meet her for lunch. Throughout my career, there have been four teachers who influenced and nurtured my artistic journey. Thank you Mrs. Grimes for giving me the courage to be an artist and to realize the phrase starving art is a myth. Amy Lorino taught me how to promote myself to institutions and how to take a chance and just apply. Carolyn Meyer taught me to be flexible and to absolve all fears about well what if I mess up the painting if I correct this or paint here. It's perfects so let's not mess it up. She taught me my art can always be better, your painting can always evolve never take the first stroke as perfect.
Kevin Moore taught me not only composition color, layout, and proportion but the importance of your compositional message of impact (how a piece looks from a distance) vs payoff (what it looks like up close). Thank you to all of these teachers for influencing me and for all of the future artists you will impact. You are the true definition of what it meant to be an exceptional educator.

I’m noticing a trend! Everyone seems to like my stories about my family and my childhood so I thought I would share a fun story. As a child, I was left with my father most often on the weekends when my mother ran around running errands. Babysitting + Dad = A unsupervised fantastic day! My schedule was as follows.
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Run around screaming in the front yard until I collapsed in the grass and observed the clouds.
Bike down the street to the neighborhood church.
Find leftover remnants of car Bondo in the driveway then smash it with a hammer.
Play with my barbies in the grass.
Dig in the dirt until I find clay.

Have playtime with my grandfather who usually would walk to our home by 2:00 pm.
If you can’t tell I was a very eccentric child whose parents allowed her to be weird. One faithful day I decided to forgo my original schedule and stay indoors watching Nickelodeon. Yes, Nickelodeon I was a Nickelodeon kid more than a Disney type of girl add that another eccentric tick mark. While I watched Hey Arnold I got the bright idea to have a snow day in the house. Just so happened we had a large box full of styrofoam left over from a delivery. Immediately I took out all of the styrofoam, ripped it into tiny pieces, and began to throw it up in the air. When I was done I sat in my mess and continued watching TV with styrofoam in every crevice of the living room. When my father finally came in he flipped out not because of the mess but because of the thought of my mother witnessing the mess Mother can be very very scary. The rest of my afternoon was filled with a vacuum in hand cleaning every square inch of the living room. Although this was my last time having a snow day in the house it wasn’t the last time my imagination got me in trouble.