- Published on
Become Tidal
oil on cradled wood panel
12 x 12 x .75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
i no longer pray
to become unbreakable.
i pray
to become tidal.
to know exactly
when to recede,
when to rise,
and to never mistake
either
for defeat. - k.e. (Kocheli Poetry)
The words appeared after the art this week, crossing my path serendipitously during a random wander across the internet.
Imagine knowing when to recede, when to rise. Some days I do know. Others, not so much.
In the world, in conversations, in interactions, in art. Receding does often feel like defeat, and yet it is not. Rising sometimes feels like defeat (especially if I've taken the bait in a challenging interaction) and yet it is not. That I can recede and rise is proof that I am tidal. I break like waves to be reformed again. I rise like waves to crash again. The cycle is evidence of my tenacity and resilience.
In the art world I receded for a few years. Never disappearing (receding is still being, after all) but just doing less. It was necessary to focus on the art and my own creative development, and allowed the time to slay a few personal dragons.
And then the rise began. I said yes to a few things (including oooooh la la MONSTROUS) and art events and even learning some new (to me) technology.
But it is time for a mini receding, as this artist/writer/blogger/malarkey-maker takes a little break and hikes her way across the rugged coast for a few weeks. The blog will return in late September.
Where are you in your personal tide cycle these days?
About the art: beginning with a cradled wood panel covered with the new primer I've been obsessed with, I roughed in the big shapes loosely with a brush and thinned oil paint. This piece had a LOT of ugly stages as I went along. To the point where I nearly abandoned it. I had become to precious with the paint work and it lost all sense of organicness.
A lesson in sticking with it and letting go, because the last two layers really made this piece SING! A little bit of very wet paint at the bottom right to cause the drip lines for added texture. A palette knife at the end for some very sharp edges on the "rocks". I want to explore this watery landscape!
Watch and listen on YouTube!
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it helps the video be seen by more people.)
Thanks so much!
Here is this week's bonus malarkey!
- Published on
Choose Your Bread And Your Company
oil on cradled wood panel
18 x 24 x .75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
What women wander?
Not many. All. A few.
Most would, now & then,
& no wonder.
Some, and I’m one,
Wander sitting still.
My small grandmother
Bought from every peddler
Less for the ribbons and lace
Than for their scent
Of sleep where you will,
Walk out when you want, choose
Your bread and your company. - MARIE PONSOT
oil on cradled wood panel
18 x 24 x .75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
What women wander?
Not many. All. A few.
Most would, now & then,
& no wonder.
Some, and I’m one,
Wander sitting still.
My small grandmother
Bought from every peddler
Less for the ribbons and lace
Than for their scent
Of sleep where you will,
Walk out when you want, choose
Your bread and your company. - MARIE PONSOT
The incredible sensation of freedom and independence fostered by choice. Be it the path you wander, the bread you eat or the company you keep, the right to choose is something I hold onto fiercely.
Because women didn't always have choices.
I love the idea of wandering sitting still which is similar to wandering in the paint, which is where I live most days. I hold on fiercely to my right to wander from one medium to another, one style to another, one substrate, one genre, one inspiration to a whole other realm of muse-ness. Don't pin me down, don't make me settle, don't slow my roll. (Though I will stop for a hot buttered roll fresh from the oven. Yum.)
Because women didn't always have choices.
I love the idea of wandering sitting still which is similar to wandering in the paint, which is where I live most days. I hold on fiercely to my right to wander from one medium to another, one style to another, one substrate, one genre, one inspiration to a whole other realm of muse-ness. Don't pin me down, don't make me settle, don't slow my roll. (Though I will stop for a hot buttered roll fresh from the oven. Yum.)
"You must study the masters, but guard the original style that beats within your soul." - Traditional Art Proverb
Even the right to choose to tie one metaphorical arm behind my back when creating is an option I value. The right to choose less.
And so here we are at the art.
Some months ago, dear friend, the writing coach Thea Fiori-Bloom shared with me her favorite painting. It is called "The Chestnut Gatherers" by Georges Lacombe (1868-1926)
In a tradition I learned years ago when I was with a gallery in Charlotte, NC, I decided this was the piece I would skew this year.
I have "Skewed The Masters" many times in the past, including this piece called "A Murder Most Fowl" which is skewing "The Death of Marat" by Jacques-Louis David (1748 -1825). This was part of the chicken challenge between my artist husband and myself.
I have "Skewed The Masters" many times in the past, including this piece called "A Murder Most Fowl" which is skewing "The Death of Marat" by Jacques-Louis David (1748 -1825). This was part of the chicken challenge between my artist husband and myself.
In the past, I have recreated the painting I was skewing in some way, and then added a twist. But for this year's. challenge, I wanted to reinvent the painting in my own style and color palette - a bold re-invention of the original. Using the color and style influence of painters like Diebenkorn, Fritz Scholder and Frank Frazetta, I created today's piece highlighting the community of women, the concept of gathering and suffused it with a bit of sass from Ponsot's poem. I am quite tickled with the result.
Watch and listen to the blog on YouTube!
And please like and follow on YouTube if you enjoy the video version. Thanks a bunch!
Bonus malarkey!
Let's animate the art!
- Published on
Into The Woods, Alone
oil on charcuterie board
9.5 x 17.5 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
(Note: this is not a food-safe item. For decorative use only.)
"The wolf said, "You know, my dear, it isn't safe for a little girl to walk through these woods alone." Red Riding Hood said, "I find your sexist remark offensive in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional status as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to develop your own, entirely valid worldview. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way." - JAMES FINN GARNER
oil on charcuterie board
9.5 x 17.5 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
(Note: this is not a food-safe item. For decorative use only.)
"The wolf said, "You know, my dear, it isn't safe for a little girl to walk through these woods alone." Red Riding Hood said, "I find your sexist remark offensive in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional status as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to develop your own, entirely valid worldview. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way." - JAMES FINN GARNER
When the world is on fire, going into the woods is not recommended. And going alone? Well, lately the woods feel perhaps safer for women than the civilized world. But that is a digression for another time. Here in the studio, the woods on fire and the streets filled with smoke have this artist wandering in the paint and on some very lovely wood.
Some years ago, Malcolm and I stumbled upon a bunch of burl wood (which found its way home with us, of course!) The reclaimed lumber place where we found the burl wood gave us a gorgeous charcuterie board in thanks for our purchase. And it sat, unused, for a long time.
I've been gathering odd bits and bobs lately - discarded boards from a local handcrafted furniture store, vintage hardware, and so forth. The charcuterie board found its way into the "potential substrates" pile and ultimately onto the work table.
Some years ago, Malcolm and I stumbled upon a bunch of burl wood (which found its way home with us, of course!) The reclaimed lumber place where we found the burl wood gave us a gorgeous charcuterie board in thanks for our purchase. And it sat, unused, for a long time.
I've been gathering odd bits and bobs lately - discarded boards from a local handcrafted furniture store, vintage hardware, and so forth. The charcuterie board found its way into the "potential substrates" pile and ultimately onto the work table.
I had in mind a modernized version of Red Riding Hood, because the wood itself wanted to be part of the story.
After sanding some of the edges, I applied several coats of varnish to seal the wood. Once dry, I carefully created the basic form of the painting composition in gesso to prepare the surface for oil paint.
After sanding some of the edges, I applied several coats of varnish to seal the wood. Once dry, I carefully created the basic form of the painting composition in gesso to prepare the surface for oil paint.
Gesso added to sealed wood
work in process
After that, many painstaking layers of oil paint with small brushes and lots of drying time. And a final coat of varnish to seal everything nicely. I am rather fond of this fashion-forward version of Red. Now, what other kinds of trouble can I get into in the bits and bobs pile?
Watch the vlog on YouTube!
This week's bonus malarkey!
- Published on
Rock, Old As Eons
oil on Yupo
18.75 x 11.5 inches
oil on Yupo
18.75 x 11.5 inches
thick-skinned gloves
like armor
they bend
but do not give
gloved hands grasp
rock, sharp
rock, unyielding
rock, old as eons
I climb
not as a goat
but as a hesitant human
can I? should I?
will I?
probably
I should not
but I can
and I will.
- Lola Jovan
like armor
they bend
but do not give
gloved hands grasp
rock, sharp
rock, unyielding
rock, old as eons
I climb
not as a goat
but as a hesitant human
can I? should I?
will I?
probably
I should not
but I can
and I will.
- Lola Jovan
It is one month away. Our annual hiking boot-camp on the border of California and Oregon, where we test our mettle against rocks, briars, tides, sand and sun.
And so my head is filled with memories of what we did the last time, and the time before that - oh, and the others before that. Including the equipment epiphany that was climbing gloves. Don't get me wrong - we are not rock climbers, per se. We are scrambling over giant boulders to get to the next cove. And those gloves? They make old, arthritic hands better. And the woman wearing them more confident.
And so my head is filled with memories of what we did the last time, and the time before that - oh, and the others before that. Including the equipment epiphany that was climbing gloves. Don't get me wrong - we are not rock climbers, per se. We are scrambling over giant boulders to get to the next cove. And those gloves? They make old, arthritic hands better. And the woman wearing them more confident.
And what the heck does this have to do with art?
Well, I am glad you asked. The right tool can be transformative. Put a rubber wedge in my hands and things I thought I could never do are right there - easy peasy. A rough chopstick makes organic texture like a precise instrument never could. That new primer I mentioned recently? Depth of color right there at my fingertips. If things aren't working despite your many attempts, a different tool (brush, pen, paint, substrate, paper - anything, really!) might just be the tipping point you need.
Well, I am glad you asked. The right tool can be transformative. Put a rubber wedge in my hands and things I thought I could never do are right there - easy peasy. A rough chopstick makes organic texture like a precise instrument never could. That new primer I mentioned recently? Depth of color right there at my fingertips. If things aren't working despite your many attempts, a different tool (brush, pen, paint, substrate, paper - anything, really!) might just be the tipping point you need.
Bouldering in the Samuel H. Boardman Scenic Corridor
About the art: another murder! (yes, it is early for murder season but I cannot resist!) This was a vertical, abstract figure painting in oils. It just didn't move me. So I turned it, grabbed a wide brush, a palette knife and a chopstick and worked quickly and intuitively. I deliberately chose a limited color palette and a "V" composition. Wanting to capture rocks and "rockness" without losting the abstraction, I roughed in large blocks of color. Working wet into wet, fat over lean, aiming for a balance of hard edges and soft, I began adding thicker layers to the shapes and literally carving into the paint with the chopstick. The texture of the underpainting shows beautifully as almost snow-covered map topography. Weeks of drying afterward, then a coat of varnish.
Watch and listen to the blog on YouTube!
Your bonus malarkey!
- Published on
Sustainable Waiting
(an exercise in patience)
26 x 32 x 1 inches
oil on linen canvas
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
Who would have guessed it possible that waiting is sustainable— a place with its own harvests. - KAY RYAN
(an exercise in patience)
26 x 32 x 1 inches
oil on linen canvas
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
Who would have guessed it possible that waiting is sustainable— a place with its own harvests. - KAY RYAN
My relationship with patience has been, for the most part, adversarial. Patience interferred with productivity, with meeting metrics, with getting things done. And patience made it more likely I would recognize the monstrousness around me. I was always in a hurry.
But when the life I had so fiercely and energetically cultivated fell to pieces some years ago, I thought hmmmm. Maybe I could slow down. And so I left space. I embraced unknowns. I waited to see what would happen if I did, well, nothing at all.
And those empty spaces (in my life, in my career, in my home, in conversations, in friendships, in love) began to slowly, magically fill with just the right people and things (including my husband, who is the emperor of positive procrastination and the grand wizard of patience - from him I learned how waiting to take action often allows everything to resolve on its own.)
But when the life I had so fiercely and energetically cultivated fell to pieces some years ago, I thought hmmmm. Maybe I could slow down. And so I left space. I embraced unknowns. I waited to see what would happen if I did, well, nothing at all.
And those empty spaces (in my life, in my career, in my home, in conversations, in friendships, in love) began to slowly, magically fill with just the right people and things (including my husband, who is the emperor of positive procrastination and the grand wizard of patience - from him I learned how waiting to take action often allows everything to resolve on its own.)
As in life, it is in art. I recall the incredible artist Stan Kurth saying something like "art is 50% doing and 50% looking." I began to slow down and look. At the art of others, at my own art, at dance and sculpture and whittling and metalwork and fiber art - just looking. Which requires patience. Especially when looking at things I may not appreciate and asking questions - like why? Why do others like this? Why don't I?
When I fell into oil painting a few years ago, the brakes were put on with a grinding (can you hear them? Train brakes on the tracks? Screeching and scraping, metal on metal?) HALT. Oil painting takes time. Patience. Endless, exhausting patience. Layers upon layers and no hurrying that drying time with a hair dryer, no sir! Slow curing. Slow hardening. Slow.
Something happened while I was waiting. (Impatiently at first.) I began so see what Kurth meant. When I looked (really looked) at the art sitting around just drying (the nerve! doing NOTHING BUT DRYING) I began to see parts of each piece that were way better than I thought, and also, ouch, way worse. I began to ask questions of the art and to offer it the time it needed to answer.
Now there are at least half a dozen pieces in process at any one time in the studio. Each one gets as much time as it needs to tell me what's next. And the more I look and listen, the more easily the answers come.
When I fell into oil painting a few years ago, the brakes were put on with a grinding (can you hear them? Train brakes on the tracks? Screeching and scraping, metal on metal?) HALT. Oil painting takes time. Patience. Endless, exhausting patience. Layers upon layers and no hurrying that drying time with a hair dryer, no sir! Slow curing. Slow hardening. Slow.
Something happened while I was waiting. (Impatiently at first.) I began so see what Kurth meant. When I looked (really looked) at the art sitting around just drying (the nerve! doing NOTHING BUT DRYING) I began to see parts of each piece that were way better than I thought, and also, ouch, way worse. I began to ask questions of the art and to offer it the time it needed to answer.
Now there are at least half a dozen pieces in process at any one time in the studio. Each one gets as much time as it needs to tell me what's next. And the more I look and listen, the more easily the answers come.
Big thanks to Avery Caswell, author of Dry Spell, for suggesting this topic for the blog!
About the art: How long did this piece take? Maybe three years? Because the underpainting (a figurative piece) is the entire reason for the texture. I turned the figurative piece upside down and stared at it for months. What did it want to be? Something maybe pastoral, maybe Oregon hills, maybe sunset, maybe wildfire. Maybe all of these things. With the upside down painting on the easel, I roughed in the big shapes with a wet, paint-laden brush. Then broad strokes of the main colors to set those shapes. Drying and drying. Looking and looking. A small brush to rough in buildings and a path. A palette knife to create hard edges for rolling hills. A wide brush for tree shapes. More drying. 80 million layers of sky. A palette knife to further refine trees without being overly detailed. More layers of color on the hills. Dragging lavender with the knife. Dragging orange. Dragging darks across the dried hills (with a nearly dry knife) to add more texture and to soften those hard edges. Drying, drying, drying. Refining buildings and path without getting precious about it. A sky ablaze on the far horizon. More drying. Varnish! Voila!
Order MonstroUS with your Fairytale Survival Kit today!
Watch and listen to today's blog post HERE!
Bonus malarkey!
- Published on
Good Bones
oil on cradled wood panel
18 x 24 x 1.5 inches
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
- MAGGIE SMITH
oil on cradled wood panel
18 x 24 x 1.5 inches
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
- MAGGIE SMITH
I am always moved by the kind stranger. By the bird, by the loved child. By poetry that hits me hard and paintings which cause me to catch my breath.
But I am so very aware of the other fifty percent. Smith's words are, unfortunately, all too true. Especially now, in these dire days.
And yet. (AND YET!) When I turn my attention toward those who see the good bones in things - those who do something incredible with those good bones, I have deep, resounding hope.
This week I want to tell you the story of someone who saw good bones and created a world out of them. A sanctuary of safety and love. A place for second chances, for hope, for joy and a long, happy life. Ally Remington works tirelessly every day (sometimes 24 hours a day) for the lives of farm animals who need a rescue, a rehabilitation, a second chance. I had the opportunity to interview Remington recently and, honestly, her story moved me to tears. The struggles, the celebrations, the hard work and the continued need for more. Below is a link to this interview on YouTube. It is a long one, but worth every minute.
My husband and I take great joy in supporting this farm rescue, which is a permanent home for each animal taken in.
If you are moved to support Wildlings Forest Sanctuary, thank you! Here is the link to the website.
My husband and I take great joy in supporting this farm rescue, which is a permanent home for each animal taken in.
If you are moved to support Wildlings Forest Sanctuary, thank you! Here is the link to the website.
About the art: It is early in the year, but some murderous things are happening in the studio! This piece is a paint-over of a werewolf. The original painting was thick with texture, and that served this new abstract landscape extraordinarily well! Beginning with a rough sketch made with a medium sized brush laden with dark paint (basic composition - big shapes!) and then a thin layer of background and foreground paint to refine the shapes and the sketch. After some drying time, I worked from the inside - out - creating rocks, highlights, reflections and layers upon layers of color. Many weeks of drying time followed. Another layer on the background and foreground, a rough celestial orb in the sky, some pink clouds. Then the pallette knife - and OH OH OH did that ever work spectacularly over all the texture! It added grit and rocky-ness to the rocks, soft earthy edges to the water. I hit a couple of places with bright highlights, then another month of drying before the varnish.
I think the werewolf is satisfied to be a part of this wild, rugged landscape. He feels at home in there.
I think the werewolf is satisfied to be a part of this wild, rugged landscape. He feels at home in there.
Watch and listen to the blog on YouTube
An interview with Ally Remington of
Wildlings Forest Sanctuary
Holy cats in a basket, batman!
The single copies of MonstroUS are now SOLD OUT! Thank you hugely!
You can still grab the full experience (book plus fairtale survival kit) here.
Get them while they last!
Big thanks to the amazing Thea Fiore Bloom at The Charmed Studio Podcast for featuring MonstroUS in her recently newsletter! I am so grateful and delighted!
- Published on
Made For Gentler Things
oil on cradled wood panel
12 x 12 x .75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
oil on cradled wood panel
12 x 12 x .75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
i had become so accustomed
to carrying the sword
that I for got my hands were made
for gentler things
for wildflowers
for poetry
for reaching
instead of defending
and maybe
that is what safety is
remembering
who you were
before the battle
- SOPHIA BRAY
to carrying the sword
that I for got my hands were made
for gentler things
for wildflowers
for poetry
for reaching
instead of defending
and maybe
that is what safety is
remembering
who you were
before the battle
- SOPHIA BRAY
Do any of you feel like you have been carrying the sword ?
Whether we are fighting the monsters on the outside, in the world, or tackling those we carry within, it can become such a habit to be hypervigilant that we forget how to put the damn sword down. Our hands form into permanent grips; they have to be coaxed into relaxing so we can trail them through the water, hold them out of the car window to surf the wind.
Who were we before the battle? Light of heart, curiosity-filled, poetic and reaching. Perhaps singing in the shower, dancing in the moonlight, scribbling silliness and thoughts in notebooks.
Our hands were made for gentler things.
Whether we are fighting the monsters on the outside, in the world, or tackling those we carry within, it can become such a habit to be hypervigilant that we forget how to put the damn sword down. Our hands form into permanent grips; they have to be coaxed into relaxing so we can trail them through the water, hold them out of the car window to surf the wind.
Who were we before the battle? Light of heart, curiosity-filled, poetic and reaching. Perhaps singing in the shower, dancing in the moonlight, scribbling silliness and thoughts in notebooks.
Our hands were made for gentler things.
About the art: I've begun experimenting with a new gesso. Michael Harding Non Absorbent Acrylic Primer in Raw SIenna Dark. After reading about the difference this primer would make in the depth of color of the paint layers, I had to see if it was true. And, it IS! Check out the background on this piece. I would generally use many layers of oil paint to get such deep darks. But this primer makes the very first coat SING!
As per my usual method, I roughed in the sketch, painted a layer of background paint to refine the sketch and let it dry. Layers on the face and neck; more drying time. A detail brush for the features, a first coat on the wing, the hair and the clothing. More drying. Additional layers on the wing and clothing, a small wash over the background. Finally, a thick imposto layer for the hair using a palette knife. A couple weeks to dry and then the varnish. Voila!
As per my usual method, I roughed in the sketch, painted a layer of background paint to refine the sketch and let it dry. Layers on the face and neck; more drying time. A detail brush for the features, a first coat on the wing, the hair and the clothing. More drying. Additional layers on the wing and clothing, a small wash over the background. Finally, a thick imposto layer for the hair using a palette knife. A couple weeks to dry and then the varnish. Voila!
Watch and listen on YouTube!
Need more malarkey?
I've got you covered!
- Published on
She's An Outlaw
oil on canvas
15 x 30 x .75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
The best artists are outlaws
Vandalizing our sanctity,
Our sanctimonious freight trains,
Our parsimonious neglect.
The best artists are culprits
Chiseling our school desks,
Scraping our bathroom stalls,
Doodling our notebooks.
- THOMAS WELLS
oil on canvas
15 x 30 x .75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
The best artists are outlaws
Vandalizing our sanctity,
Our sanctimonious freight trains,
Our parsimonious neglect.
The best artists are culprits
Chiseling our school desks,
Scraping our bathroom stalls,
Doodling our notebooks.
- THOMAS WELLS
There is something deeply symbolic about guns.
I don't own one and don't want to. I have had guns pointed at me - twice. It isn't anything I want to revisit ever again. But the people with guns have power.
There are other kinds of power - words, images, silence. I like to think my own "guns" are the images I make and the words I put with those images.
I don't own one and don't want to. I have had guns pointed at me - twice. It isn't anything I want to revisit ever again. But the people with guns have power.
There are other kinds of power - words, images, silence. I like to think my own "guns" are the images I make and the words I put with those images.
In the world of gunslingers and outlaws, there aren't a lot of women. It is generally (but not always), men depicted with the gun in their hands, and thus the power. More contemporary fantasy and sci-fi includes more badass women, and I think this particular outlaw fits well there.
She's every woman who has had enough. Every female whose rights are being eroded. Every woman who has suffered at the hands of the patriarchy. Each woman who wished, even for a moment, the power was in her two hands.
Maybe she is carrying bubble guns, squirt guns, nerf guns or just guns loaded with powerful words. She demands attention. And by golly she is gonna have it.
She's every woman who has had enough. Every female whose rights are being eroded. Every woman who has suffered at the hands of the patriarchy. Each woman who wished, even for a moment, the power was in her two hands.
Maybe she is carrying bubble guns, squirt guns, nerf guns or just guns loaded with powerful words. She demands attention. And by golly she is gonna have it.
The artist in me knows that I must also be an outlaw (vandal, culprit) in the world. It might be a controversial image, or words that rub some folks the wrong way, but my job is to put it out there; to stir up conversation and maybe cause some notebook doodling. Whether it is powerful women with weapons, monsters lurking in the shadows or books about the monstrousness in all of us, I'm gonna do it.
About the art: I had an idea for this one, a female outlaw in mid-air. So I began with a gesso'd canvas and some thinned oil paint and sketched a rough outline of the figure. Next a layer of background paint, pushing in to further refine the sketch. A long drying time. Using a small brush I went in for the detail work - face, hands and weapons. While those were drying, I placed shadows in the clothing, the hair and the legs. More drying! The requisite 80 million layers, pushing and pulling until the right level of detail vs abstraction was reached. It took many weeks. OY! Finally, a second layer on the background, and a very wet brush laden with paint for the dripping parts of her clothing. After four more weeks of drying, I added a layer of varnish. She is a big, powerful piece in the studio. She does not tolerate timidity or hesitation!
Watch and listen to the blog on YouTube
Bonus malarkey!
- Published on
It is the most exciting penultimate day! The day before MonstroUS is released. And I am having a little surreal moment - is it nearly here already?
But rather than talk about the stories and the writing today, let's chat about the art. Over 60 pieces of oil paintings and pen and ink drawings went into this book. Each story has a different style inspiration; a unique visual perspective. The studio had pieces propped, taped, clipped and leaned everywhere for more than a year. I was surrounded by the art! Here are a few of my favorites.
But rather than talk about the stories and the writing today, let's chat about the art. Over 60 pieces of oil paintings and pen and ink drawings went into this book. Each story has a different style inspiration; a unique visual perspective. The studio had pieces propped, taped, clipped and leaned everywhere for more than a year. I was surrounded by the art! Here are a few of my favorites.
Her Feet Began To Float Up Off The Floor
from the story "Burdensome"
oil on paper
12.5 x 18.5 inches
For the painted pieces in this story, I was inspired by the art of Robert McGinnis - the book covers, the movie posters, the magazine pages. His ultra feminine females, saturated colors and the way his art evokes a certain time from the past in our culture.
This piece began with a well saturated undercoat of green. A rough sketch of the figure and the sofa, and then many layers to create the contrast and highlights. Resisting the urge to overly refine the details - a large piece made very small in the book, which perfectly gives the effect of being ten feet away from the art (the ideal distance at which to view a painting.)
from the story "Burdensome"
oil on paper
12.5 x 18.5 inches
For the painted pieces in this story, I was inspired by the art of Robert McGinnis - the book covers, the movie posters, the magazine pages. His ultra feminine females, saturated colors and the way his art evokes a certain time from the past in our culture.
This piece began with a well saturated undercoat of green. A rough sketch of the figure and the sofa, and then many layers to create the contrast and highlights. Resisting the urge to overly refine the details - a large piece made very small in the book, which perfectly gives the effect of being ten feet away from the art (the ideal distance at which to view a painting.)
The Latest Smith
from the story "Smith"
pen and ink on Yupo
7 x 10 inches (plus a wide border for framing)
In this story, I focused primarily on a very high contrast graphic novel style of pen and ink drawings on Yupo. The broad strokes, gestures and stark black and white of these images gave me so much satisfaction that I have continued to use this style for some of my pen and ink work.
The odd angles, wonky borders, scribbles and suggestions of this style really make me grin.
from the story "Smith"
pen and ink on Yupo
7 x 10 inches (plus a wide border for framing)
In this story, I focused primarily on a very high contrast graphic novel style of pen and ink drawings on Yupo. The broad strokes, gestures and stark black and white of these images gave me so much satisfaction that I have continued to use this style for some of my pen and ink work.
The odd angles, wonky borders, scribbles and suggestions of this style really make me grin.
This Is My Daughter
from the story" Golem"
acrylic and ink on wood panel
11 x 14 x .25 inches
The full color pieces in the two Golem stories were created with acrylic paint pens on sealed wood panels. It created a mood that felt right for Inuit-inspired fairytales, incorporating the natural element of the wood grain.
Paint pens are a real delight to use. They can be blended while the paint is wet, painted over when they are dry, smudged with fingers or rags. The variety of nibs allow large or small line work and a level of control that is more difficult to achieve with brushes and oil paint.
from the story" Golem"
acrylic and ink on wood panel
11 x 14 x .25 inches
The full color pieces in the two Golem stories were created with acrylic paint pens on sealed wood panels. It created a mood that felt right for Inuit-inspired fairytales, incorporating the natural element of the wood grain.
Paint pens are a real delight to use. They can be blended while the paint is wet, painted over when they are dry, smudged with fingers or rags. The variety of nibs allow large or small line work and a level of control that is more difficult to achieve with brushes and oil paint.
Thank you to everyone who has preordered MonstroUS! If you haven't already ordered, you have one more day to reserve a copy AND be entered to win one of two original pieces of art from the book! Woohoo!
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Bonus malarkey!
Meet the Golem...
- Published on
Improbable Coincidences
oil on Yupo
11 x 19 inches (plus a border for framing)
This item is unmounted and unframed
It seems so odd to me now, how one can be so unsettled by the improbable. When we know that our entire existence is founded on freak occurrences and improbable coincidences.
― Solvej Balle, On the Calculation of Volume I
oil on Yupo
11 x 19 inches (plus a border for framing)
This item is unmounted and unframed
It seems so odd to me now, how one can be so unsettled by the improbable. When we know that our entire existence is founded on freak occurrences and improbable coincidences.
― Solvej Balle, On the Calculation of Volume I
We just finished reading On The Calculation Of Volume 1 and I find myself contemplating how easy it is to be rattled by the things we don't expect - the unlikely, the surprising, the improbable.
In the book, a woman becomes stuck in a repeating day. Although she can experience the day differently, the world around her repeats - the weather, the people, the news - everything. And the book is largely about the shifts she goes through over the course of a year of grappling with this improbable situation.
Personally, I am not great with surprises, especially when they aren't, well, good ones. It throws me off, makes me edgy, gets me to gritting my teeth. But I learned recently from friend Dotty Seiter to begin saying and this too when these things happen. It is just another thing in a long string of things. As I say it, I can feel the shift in my insides. Everything changes just enough that I am less rattled.
Personally, I am not great with surprises, especially when they aren't, well, good ones. It throws me off, makes me edgy, gets me to gritting my teeth. But I learned recently from friend Dotty Seiter to begin saying and this too when these things happen. It is just another thing in a long string of things. As I say it, I can feel the shift in my insides. Everything changes just enough that I am less rattled.
And Balle is so right in pointing out the improbability of our very existence as humans in the universe - why should we be rattled by more freak occurrences? Next time I am saying softly to myself and this too, I will simply look up at the stars and nod knowingly. All of this is an improbable coincidence.
About the art: beginning with a gesso'd piece of Yupo and an inspiration image, I roughed in the outline of the figure with a pencil and then painted the first layer of background paint (working outside-in) and further refined the figure outline. Then a long drying time. Following with the face and hands, I used a thin layer of paint to place the main facial features and the structure of the hands around the heart. Another drying time (oil is all about patience) and then a tiny brush to place small details on face and hands, then more layers of paint on both. While those layers dried, I worked on a base coat for the hair and clothing, the neck and the skin of the arms (shadows and light). More drying time! A few more layers on the face and hands, another layer on hair and clothing and arms, then a final, very loose layer on the background. About five weeks from start to finish. This joyful, heart-generous girl makes me smile.
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