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The Fully Complex Scope of Being

1/26/2023

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The Fully Complex Scope of Being

"The Fully Complex Scope of Being" oil on art board, 16 x 20.  Available here and at Artfinder.


"It’s my nature to question, to look at the opposite side. I believe that the best writing also does this … It tells us that where there is sorrow, there will be joy; where there is joy, there will be sorrow … The acknowledgement of the fully complex scope of being is why good art thrills … Acknowledging the fullness of things,” she insists, “is our human task.” - JANE HIRSHFIELD

My wanders are taking me back to portraiture for a moment.

I've been fascinated with the many contemporary painters who use paint like a sculpting tool in carving faces into canvas.  Leaving rough, thick paint and harsh lines while still conveying the emotion and essence of a human.  


In both abstraction and portraiture, I wonder how much I can convey without spelling it out?  How little can I define while still helping your eyes see it fully?
The words of Hirschfield (some of her other words are literally tattooed on my body)  had me nodding and mmmmhhhhmmmmm-ing.  The more art I look at, the more images passing through my own visual, emotional and intellectual filters, the more I see the good stuff acknowledges the fully complex scope of being.  Our humanity, our very being, is complicated and messy and fraught with stumbles, trips and falls.  The pendulum of joy and sorrow.  The scales of fullness and emptiness.  Beauty and ugliness.  Despair and wonder.

Thank you, dear reader, for being part of the fullness of things.  Your very presence swings the pendulum toward joy. XO
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​About the art:  beginning with an old painting covered in white gesso, a notanized photograph and the images of heavily sculpted paintings in my mind, thickly sketching the darks of a face in colored pencil and then adding thin layers of oil paint mixed with liquin.  Using only palette knife, rubber wedge and fingers, adding thicker layers and stepping WAY back between them.  Does this look like a face from 10 feet away?  Yup.  Ok, keep going. Resisting the urge to overly define.  Resisting the urge to add colors other than my pre-selected limited palette.  Letting the highlights speak.  Letting the darks anchor.  Walking away with a smile.
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Coming Home

1/15/2023

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"Coming Home"  oil and cold wax on paper, 15 x 10.5.   Available here and at Artfinder.


“was always a strange thing, coming home. Coming home meant that you had, at one point, left it and, in doing so, irreversibly changed. How odd, then, to be able to return to a place that would always be anchored in your notion of the past. How could this place still be there, if the you that once lived there no longer existed?” 

― Becky Chambers, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy

Oh, what a lovely, craggy, cliff-hugging hike I'm having in the studio!

Cold wax and oil is the closest thing to the deeply organic, geologically-astounding, gritty and basalt-y layers of the Columbia River Gorge you can get while standing indoors.
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Coming Home
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And simultaneously reading aloud another book featuring a wandering monk and robot is the next best thing to actually wandering the countryside while being curled up on the sofa on a dark, rainy evening.

The meandering dynamic duo (the. monk and robot, not the husband and myself, though we are, indeed) have a way of tackling philosophy in the sweetest ways, often leaving me smiling and teary simultaneously.   Like today's passage and the idea that home is always part of our past, and then when we return to it we are never the same person who once lived there.  Whoa.

Which is exactly how I feel returning home from a hike, a walk or a wander, or after painting something  - creating a new world that wasn't there before, and being altered by the process of creating it.  The Lola who enters the studio is never the same one who exists.  

About the art:  beginning (as I am in 2023) with an old painting which has been gesso'd over.  In this case, the painting was also cut in half.  Jumping off from a hike-inspired photo and beginning to build the layers with thin washes of oil added with a rubber wedge and draaaaaagggged hither and yon.  Adding layers of thicker paint and paint mixed with cold wax with a palette knife.  Dragging the paint into vertical cliffs with a rubber wedge.  Carving back into the layers of paint with oil pencils and a scribbly hand.  Walking away as a new Lola.
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The best chance to be whole

1/9/2023

5 Comments

 

”The Best Chance to be Whole” - oil on paper, 22 x 30.  Available here and at Artfinder.

The courage to hear and embody opens us to a startling secret, that the best chance to be whole is to love whatever gets in the way, until it ceases to be an obstacle .  - MARK NEPO 
Oh, how things get in the way.

I mean, can I even imagine feeling "whole"?  Personally? Creatively? Interpersonally? In life?  Yes, I can nearly see it there, just beyond reach - like a word on the tip of. my tongue.  Elusive, but there.

The definition of and obstacles in the way of wholeness vary by person, I'm guessing.  There are real world obstacles which we all face in various combinations, but inner hurdles and obstacles - I'm guessing those are what Nepo is getting at.  Our own assumptions, beliefs, judgments, attitudes and flotsam.  Oy.
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The Best Chance to be Whole
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​There are so many obstacles on the creative path.  Time, for sure.  Education, experience, instruction, materials - yup.  But mostly, mainly, what I hear from other artists and musicians and writers and performers of all. kinds is that the big, bad obstacle is nearly always inside our heads.  Mine sounds like "I CAN'T".  (My inner obstacle is not verbose, just stern.).  It's different from my interpersonal obstacle voice, which sounds like "I'M AFRAID TO."

So I'm not sure exactly how to spread big love to these obstacles, but I think it begins with the sound of Thich Nhat Hanh's voice saying "I see you little one.  I see your fear.  I see your lack of confidence.  Come here and let's work through it together."  And so, as I hold hands with my inner obstacles and skip off into the studio, I ask you, dear readers, what the obstacles to your wholeness  and how can you love them?

About the art:  beginning with a thickly gesso'd layer over an old painting on 300 lb arches watercolor paper.  Laying in wet horizontal lines of oil paint with a rubber wedge and dragging  downward and at angles, creating a rough structure of "cliff and rock"  inspired by hiking photographs.  Varying many neutrals, creating mud and then bringing it back to color with some brighter paint and a palette knife.  Carving back into the layers with chopsticks and flat blades.  Allowing  paint thinner to run along some portions to create texture.  The requisite 80 million layers exist in this large piece, which is, by far, my new favorite.  
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Our Walls Crumble When No One is Looking

1/5/2023

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"Our Walls Crumble When No One is Looking" - oil on paper, 12.5 x 16.5.  Available here and at Artfinder.

Consider how the sun washes the Earth with its heat and then clouds dissipate, and grasses grow, and stones crumble when no one is looking to reveal a smoother, deeper face. It is the same with us. In a moment of realness, the clouds in our mind clear and our passion is restored, and our walls crumble when no one is looking. It all continues and refreshes, if we let it.  MARK NEPO, The Book of Awakening
And a new year begins.

Already I am wondering, how will I be different at the end of this year?  How will my heart feel?  What will the art look (and feel) like?  Where will my feet have walked in those 365 days?

​I have SO MANY IDEAS.  It's a bit overwhelming.
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Our Wall Crumble When No One is Looking
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Despite all the wondering, one thing is for sure:  I will continue to wander.

More than that, I will EMBRACE the wandering.

Now wait a minute, whoa, hold on there lady.  As artists, we're suppose to find our voice and STICK WITH IT, right?  Or at least, that's what "they" tell you.

Um, nope and nope.  I plan to let the art wander EVEN MORE than it has in the past, dropping all the inner critic voices and the anticipated judgment of others and just make the dang things.

Reading over this, that is a LOT of capitalized words.  I'm not yelling, dear reader.  Well, maybe I am a little.  I'm FEISTY about the wander.  

Raise your voice in the comments below, creatives!  Where are YOU going to wander?

Wonder Mike and Lilly are falling all over themselves with excitement!  They couldn't choose just one winner of the reader giveaway...they chose TWO!  Leslie M and Traycee, you're the winners of a free piece of original art!  Email me at imajenation@gmail.com with your address, and the shipping pooches will have your treasure on the way in a jiffy.  And thank you for participating!
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The Escalation of a Double Dog Dare

12/29/2022

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"The Escalation of a Double Dog Dare" - oil on crescent board, 12 x 16.  Available here and at Artfinder.

What is a triple dare? (slang, US) 
Used to denote compounding levels of dare "seriousness"; the escalation of a double dog dare. I triple dog dare you to jump. "I double dog dare you!" "Oh yeah? Well, I triple dog dare you!" - WIKTIONARY
The last post of 2022.  

Whoa.

I'm not one for resolutions, being overly self-motivated already.  But I am a fan of A Christmas Story and the dreaded escalation of a double dog dare.  This year, three intrepid souls will gather on New Year's Eve and issue a series of dares.
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The Escalation of a Double Dog Dare"
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Mind you, these are not intended to be "jump off a cliff" types of dares.  Rather, a series of dares (increasing in required bravery/hutzpah/determination/confidence) for the coming year which could have a transformative, positive, confidence-boosting badassery-building impact by completing (or even just trying) them.

Because often others see what we can do even when we cannot.

There is literally NO WAY my life would look like it does at this moment if a key few people had not believed in me along the way.

​So I am curious, dear reader, what could you do in the coming year if someone believed in you more than you believed in yourself?
Wonder Mike and Lilly say it's been way too long since a reader challenge was issued.  So I dare you, fierce creative, to leave a comment below with something you would secretly love to be dared to try in the coming year.  One commenter will be selected at random by a couple of pooches who love peanut butter and sushi.  That lucky human will receive a piece of original art in the mail. Woot!

About the art:  beginning with an inspiration photo from a recent hike and a painting which was previously demolished with gesso.  Loosely indicating a high horizon line and leaving the rest to chance.  Using only rubber wedge and paper towel, slowly adding layers of oil point in broad strokes to create a landscape.  Allowing the eye to fill in the details.  Carving through layers of paint with the wedge to expose previous layers.  Resisting the urge to refine details.  Adding a few pops of color and then walking away.  
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Consciousness Alone is the Most Exhilarating Thing

12/19/2022

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Consciousness Alone is the Most Exhilarating Thing
"​Consciousness Alone is the Most Exhilarating Thing" - oil on linen panel, 10 x 10.  Available here and at Artfinder.


“Do you not find consciousness alone to be the most exhilarating thing? Here we are, in this incomprehensibly large universe, on this one tiny moon around this one incidental planet, and in all the time this entire scenario has existed, every component has been recycled over and over and over again into infinitely incredible configurations, and sometimes, those configurations are special enough to be able to see the world around them. You and I—we’re just atoms that arranged themselves the right way, and we can understand that about ourselves. Is that not amazing?” 

― Becky Chambers, A Psalm for the Wild-Built
I'm lost in space again in the studio.  It's an exhilarating place to be.

Fueled by our most recent read, a delightful book in the Monk and Robot series.  Filled with tea-serving traveling monks, robots who live in the wild and philosophies that just leave me weeping with delight.  Life as imagined on this moon world  is something to be carefully sipped and savored.

What have I done this past year?  I've thrown purposeful productivity to the wind in favor of a more meandering existence.  I mean, I get the important things done, but maybe the most important thing is really simply existing.  Just being is good enough.  In fact, it's splendidly marvelous.  It does result in a very random path in the studio, with no less than ten paintings in various stages of exploration.  Each of them on top of a prior painting that has been recycled.  

And, thanks to the insightful recommendations of reader/artist Carol E, there is a huge container of cold wax and a new book of inspirational techniques waiting to become...something.  Atoms arranged in the right way, perhaps?

About the art - using the Afterlight app to insert an inspirational photo of a space helmet into a portrait reference photo, I created a jumping off point for a light pencil sketch on linen.  Choosing an extremely narrow color palette and adding thinned layers of oil paint with rubber wedge, brush and fingers.  Allowing dragged paint to become highlights and reflections.  Wondering what the woman in the helmet is pondering.
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The Power of Your Presence

12/10/2022

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"The Power of Your Presence" - oil on crescent board, 14 x 11.  Available here and at Artfinder.


Once you realize the power of your tongue, you won't say just anything.
When you realize the power of your thoughts, you won't entertain just anything.
And once you realize the power of your presence, you won't be just anywhere.

Instagram.com/prettygoodmindset
A wee little break from outer space in the studio, as a series of portraits decided to be interspersed amongst the intergalactic wanderers.

The end of the year is drawing near, and I don't know about you, dear reader, but I find myself both reflecting one the old year and getting ready for the new one.
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The Power of Your Presence
In the studio, that continues to look like buckets of gesso.

Painting over old work, creating backgrounds for new.  The more I paint over, the more I want to paint over.  You creatives may understand this - the weight of old work.  Don't get me wrong, I am proud of what I've created and shared over the years, but the feeling of old paintings around is like a dress with the tags still on it from three years ago - it's time to make room for things that SING, both in my gallery of work and in my wardrobe. :)

Most of the pieces being painted over get a little time-lapse video posted over on my instagram feed.  Today's piece is painted on top of one of those gesso'd pieces.  Already building the foundations of 2023.  Oh yeah!

About the art:  beginning with a rough portrait sketch in colored pencil and jumping off with a limited palette of colors in oils.  Embracing the way oil paint moves under the rubber wedge and exposing sub-layers with it.  As always, resisting the urge for perfection and allowing texture and peculiarity to emerge.

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It is the LAST WEEK of the first ever FULL-OF-MALARKEY WEB SALE!  Up to 50% off original art plus FREE SHIPPING!  Get 'em while you can!  The gesso maniac in the studio has her eye on most of them....muwahaha.   Click on the ART tab above to check them out.  And thank you HUGELY for your support!  Wooooooohoooooo!
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Walk OUt From Under Everything

12/6/2022

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"Walk Out From Under Everything" - oil on wood panel, 12 x 12.  Ready to hang.  Available here and at Artfinder.

“Sometimes the simplest and best use of our will is to drop it all and just walk out from under everything that is covering us, even if only for an hour or so—just walk out from under the webs we've spun, the tasks we've assumed, the problems we have to solve. They'll be there when we get back, and maybe some of them will fall apart without our worry to hold them up.” 
― Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening

The space odyssey continues in the studio.  

And also in my life, where I am walking out from under a few things that have been weighing on me heavily.  Nepo's quote makes me cringe slightly as I realize how many things my worries hold up - better to let some of them just fall apart.
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Walk Out From Under Everything
I have a mighty will.  As I imagine you do, dear reader - spirited creator, deeply feeling human that you are.  A mighty will can get things done, can provide strength and endurance and tenacity and is good for triumphing against ill odds.  But a mighty will will also get you taking on too much, solving problems that are not yours to fix, making things more complicated (perhaps) than they need to or should be.  When your will is strong, it is hard to walk out from under anything, let alone everything.

But in facing away from and seeing other than the worries we are covered by, we have a glimpse of a sweet expansiveness - open to, available for, free from and rejoicing in the thing beyond that covering.  I'm going to point my spaceship that-a-way.  Wanna join?

About the art:  beginning with a panel of a gesso covered old painting, a quick sketch and then layers of oil paint to create a visage.  Painting over the entire thing with liquin- thinned color and pushing away the excess to leave a deeply textured surface.  Using rubber wedge to carve into wet paint.  Adding a paint thinner to allow some parts to run and create more exquisite texture.  Adding back a few lost details with a small brush and a steady hand. 

Want to see a video of the process?  Head to Instagram.com/jenjovanart and check out the reel!
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Building The New Empire

11/28/2022

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"Building the New Empire" - oil on cradled wood panel, 6 x 12 x .75.  Ready to hang.  Available here and at Artfinder.


When we hold onto the pieces of a life that existed within a chapter we’ve outgrown, we feel increasing pain and discomfort. This is not because we are meant to spend any additional time dissecting what went wrong and what we wish we would have done and what could have or would have or should have happened.

​ It means that instead of standing in the ruins, we have to get to work building the new empire, the new way, the new life. We have to think less about what’s gone, and more about how we will turn every regret into a plan for the future. We are meant to take every disappointment and learn to see within it the truth of what we actually desire, what we really want, who we are truly supposed to be. - BRIANNA WIEST

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Building the New Empire
I don't know about you, dear reader, but I spend a lot of time ruminating and standing in the ruins.  Some of the habit of rumination can be attributed to introversion, being highly sensitive, having survived trauma and abuse.  But I believe a good portion of it is simply habit.  My brain falls into replaying conversations, and dissecting what went wrong instead of working on building the new empire. Wiest's words are part of a larger writing which begins with this: Your new life is going to cost you your old one.  Whoa.

And here we are - art imitating life, as the old paintings are obliterated by gesso and the new empire takes form on top of them. And again, whoa.

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​About the art:  beginning with a rubber wedge and leftover oil paint on a palette.  Moving the paint until a composition and form takes shape, then adding color, texture, line and nuance with a smaller wedge, chopsticks, a soft cloth, fingers.  Allowing the geometry to emerge while encouraging hard and soft edges.

These mini galactic abstracts are beginning to form a lovely gallery wall in the studio.  Small pieces with big impact.  Big worlds lasso'd and held for view.  
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Soothed Into Remembering Our Common Name

11/22/2022

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Soothed Into Remembering Our Common Name
"Soothed Into Remembering Our Common Name" - oil on cradled wood panel, 12 x 12 x .75.  Ready to hang.  Available here and at Artfinder.
"It seems that the ancient Medicine Men understood that listening to another's story somehow gives us the strength of example to carry on, as well as showing us aspects of ourselves we can't easily see. For listening to the stories of others - not to their precautions or personal commandments - is a kind of water that breaks the fever of our isolation. If we listen closely enough, we are soothed into remembering our common name."  -- Mark Nepo 
It's softly raining here in my studio in the trees...surrounded by gold and orange and green and red and falling water.    And I am thinking again about stories.

I've been trying to listen not to their precautions or personal commandments but to the stories of those around me.  The themes under the words, the stories they tell with words and actions.  Which helps me, in turn, see my own stories in a bright, clear light.

​I believe we all want to be seen, heard and understood.  We want our stories to matter.  

​For me, when I feel understood, it is indeed a soothing balm that helps me feel connected and no longer isolated.  The little gem in Nepo's words regarding precautions and commandments really has me contemplating, though.  Which of those am I delivering in lieu  of a vulnerable, authentic story? Hmmmmmmm.  As I listen, so will I learn.
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A view from the studio window

About the art: another piece emerging over top of a prior painting.  Keeping to a limited palette and using mostly rubber wedge and palette knife and fingers, trying to capture mood and emotion.  Resisting the urge to overly define her garment or the background, allowing the paint to move and suggest.
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Here's the blue wild, where
tiny dreamers ride beasts, speak
​ birdsong, hold the moon.

(by poet Mary W. Cox)
​


​Art prints available on request
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