Jen Jovan Art Musings and Random Thoughts

I am Not Giving Up Pears

1/24/2022

I am Not Giving Up Pears

"I am Not Giving Up Pears" - acrylic on gallery wrapped canvas, 16 x 20 x 1.5. Ready to hang. Available here and at Artfinder.

If I go to the pear tree for a pear, I am taking care of myself by actively nourishing my body. If I sit under the tree and gaze at the last flowers of the garden, I am taking care of a deeper need: the need to respond to beauty. I am not giving up pears, but I am more richly expanding my experience of the universe by allowing myself to appreciate more of it....It is the gateway to grace, the complement of effort.
- DAVID RICHO

I think I've spent most of my life going to the pear tree for a pear. Maybe never noticing the tree, the last flowers, the sun on my face. I got a lot accomplished this way, but there was so little richness in the days.

Now I spend more time gazing than gathering. More time waiting than doing. More time feeling than pushing past or through. And boy oh boy have I learned to love naps. Now and again I am even late for something.

There is a terrifying amount of mental chatter that goes along with a shift like the one I've made (and am still making) - who's going to get all the things done? Who will keep track of the things that need to be done? What will people think when I'm not doing, going, making, solving, handling, communicating, taking care of (and so on) to my fullest ability? I am shushing myself a lot.

Thich Nhat Hanh passed away two days ago. I sobbed. His voice and words are in my ears, softly suggesting I just tend the lettuces and see the interconnectedness of all things. There is no hurry. There is only now. I think he might be right there, in the bark and fruit of the pear tree, in the sunshine and the clouds, in the rain and the soil, in you and in me, sitting there under the tree.

About the art: working from a notanized image and beginning with Stabilo woody pencils, sketching in the darks and putting a wet brush on the pencil to create a light value sketch. Slowly adding the requisite 80 million layers of light washes and resisting the desire to make hair something other than an abstract idea. Allowing sprayed water to move paint. For this piece I stayed with three colors (a warm red, a dark blue and a dark brown) plus white and titan buff. Liberal use of rubber wedge, a large, dry house painting brush and paper towels for blending.

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Only I Will Remain

1/17/2022

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"Only I Will Remain" - acrylic and charcoal on gallery wrapped canvas, 16 x 20 x 1.5. Ready to hang.. Available here and at Artfinder

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past me I will turn to see fear's path. Where the feat has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
- DUNE, Frank Herbert

Just a little progress is freedom from fear.
- Bhagavad Gita

Let's talk about fear.

It can literally freeze you in your tracks. Once, long ago, in a dark U-Haul parking lot late at night, a man pointed a rifle at a handful of college kids who were changing a flat tire. All the kids ran except me. My feet would not move. My body would not respond. I felt paralyzed by fear. I stood there, the man and the rifle behind me, and did not move.

Only I Will Remain

This is an extreme example, but still...

In smaller ways, fear freezes us in place, unable to take risks, feel feelings, try new things, set boundaries, change things that so need changing. It is no different in art, where the fear of taking creative risks keeps us stuck in a rut and reformulating the thing we already can do. Fear is the mind killer.

But a little progress, like taking one step when the feet really don't want to move, is freedom from fear. That first step is everything you need to take the next one. Ready? Set? GO!

About the art: using a reference photo notan in a four value study, creating a rough sketch with charcoal and dark paint on canvas. Building layers of titanium white and titan buff. mixed with the charcoal and/or dark paint, adding slight color with the addition of some blue and raw umber. Resisting the temptation to overly define, paying more attention to the movement and texture of the paint and the layering of shadows. Liberal use of water sprayer and rubber wedge.

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Rain, Sun and Their Wanting

1/11/2022

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Rain, Sun and Their Wanting

"Rain, Sun and Their Wanting" - acrylic and charcoal on Arches 300 lb paper, 22 x 30. Available here and at Artfinder.

I would like
my living to inhabit me
the way
rain, sun, and their wanting
inhabit a fig or apple.

- Jane Hirschfield

I didn't notice it until recently, but I am in countdown mode.

Feeling the next birthday (still 6 months away) because it is a big one. Though inside I feel more vibrant than ever, the narrative I associate with being a sixty year-old woman is untrue and unfair, but there it is, weighty and angst-filled. I have six months to change that narrative.

Hirschfield's words are a guide. I want to be inhabited by my living - by sun and rain, by mountains and oceans and paint. To be inhabited by the smell of loam, the taste of feta cheese and the sounds of a softly-strummed guitar. Inhabited by a morning snuggle and awakening crows. Mmmmm.

About the art: beginning with a rough charcoal sketch (photo right), then adding liberal amounts of water and titanium white to move the charcoal into various values. Adding thin layers of color and resisting the urge to complete all the edges...letting them remain in process. Focus on the eyes and mouth, the darks and lights. Adding geometric blocks of color and allowing paint to run and create texture.

After a couple of weeks with this woman, I feel like we k now each other. She requires nothing more to feel complete.

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Everything 'Round Us Big Burn

1/3/2022

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"Everything 'Round Us Big Burn" - acrylic on cradled wood panel, 18 x 18 x 1.5. Ready to hang. Available here and at Artfinder.

I'm still undone, not quite young
But I, I still try
Cross my heart, now I hope to die
Was the way we were
Just like you'd say, we'd turn?
Everything 'round us, big burn
- ORVILLE PECK

A new year in the studio and WOWEE, is there a lot of wild creativity happening or WHAT? (say YES! There IS!)

Beginning with this piece, inspired by a recent hike through an ice covered burn forest in the gorge, where the blackened trunks against white snow and ice were dramatic and so beautiful, but also a bit frightening as the weakened, laden branches crashed and fell under weight and wind.

Everything 'Round Us Big Burn

Add to a half-dozen paintings in process the two new members of our family, both guitars. Sounds of Johnny Cash and Donovan float throughout the house, along with my new favorite, Orville Peck. Peck's video artistry, voice and music are boundary-pushing and yet timeless (see video left).

It's been decades since a guitar sat nestled in my arms, not quite young, but I, I still try. With gratitude to my partner for encouraging me down this path, which finds me skipping merrily. :)

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I am Not Giving Up Pears

Only I Will Remain

Rain, Sun and Their Wanting

Everything 'Round Us Big Burn

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