Lola Jovan Art Musings and Random Thoughts

REBUS

3/29/2021

This rebus—slip and stubbornness,
bottom of river, my own consumed life--
when will I learn to read it
plainly, slowly, uncolored by hope or desire?
Not to understand it, only to see.

As water given sugar sweetens, given salt grows salty,
we become our choices.
Each yes, each no continues,
this one a ladder, that one an anvil or cup.

The ladder leans into its darkness.
The anvil leans into its silence.
The cup sits empty.

How can I enter this question the clay has asked?

from Rebus by Jane Hirschfield

"Rebus" - acrylic and charcoal on cradled wood panel, 24" x 18" x 1.5".. Ready to hang (sides are painted; no need to frame. Hanging wire is attached). Available here and at Artfinder.

We become our choices.

There is an inclination to philosophize while hiking. To untangle the experience of life and reframe it in the expansive view of sky and sea and soil. And there it is easy to look back at a life and say - yes, this. I became my choices. And I still become my choices. Except now, sometimes, if I am listening well, the choice becomes obvious - the moon full, information revealed, choice easy. I choose. I become. Slip and stubbornness give way to slide and surrender. I become.

About the art: beginning with a photo from a recent hike at Nehalem Spit, run through the Notanizer app to provide a basic composition. Drawing with three colors of charcoal and then blending with a wet brush and titanium white and buff. Adding some darks with acrylic paint. The video jumps off from here - paper towel, rubber wedge, squeegee, water sprayer, big fluffy brush, regular brushes and fingers. Resisting the urge to overly define while trying to soften edges and create movement. Falling in love with the sea.

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CALL ME Nomad Woman

3/25/2021

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Call Me Nomad Woman

"Nomad Woman" - acrylic and charcoal on Arches 300 lb watercolor paper, 22" x 30". Available here and at Artfinder.

got fire shut up in my bones/ & saltwater shut up in my lungs/ & got my soul shut up in some flesh/ & got this body shut up in a wound/& that wound stays wide open/ wide open/ remember/ i leave from & return to the same place/ always/ no/ where/ now/ here/ call me nomadwoman/ remember/ i be no/ madwoman.

- from dna is just anotha theory for reincarnation: me, sitting in a burning tree DESTINY HEMPHILL

It matters what we're called.

In some cultures, what we're called changes with milestones, passage of time, transformations. Here, we go from nicknames to full names to more nicknames and sometimes names we wish we weren't called at all in the heat of the moment. Names can stick.

And sometimes the names we're given at birth don't fit as well as we age and grow and change and become.

A few close to me have known that my inner name is Lola.

Lola is fierce and feisty and confident and wildly unfettered and brave. Lola is not afraid.

In the past few years of radical change in my life (some by choice, some by happenstance, misfortune or the choices of others) I have become more Lola than Jen. As I began reimagining my cyber art pages, my personal pages began waving their arms and demanding attention. And so instagram (personal) is now instagram.com@thewanderingsoflola. And Facebook followed as Facebook.com/thewanderingsoflola.

I was overwhelmed by the support, encouragement and acceptance of this change. And tickled by those who now call me Lola. It feels like anything is possible - anything can be. Anything can become. Lola knows.

About the art: This piece happened spontaneously. A late evening spent purusing Pinterest boards of avant-garde fashion. An antlered woman in a white lace gown inspired the pose. Bones - of animals and of trees - collected on a beach hike informed the stark color palette. A quick sketch with charcoal, then very wet titanium white to rough in the form. Ultramarine blue and raw umber and titanium white only, brushed on in thin, watery washes. Resisting the urge to complete the background...allowing her to emerge, half formed as if in mid-transformation.

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The Long Fall Back to the Center

3/22/2021

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"The Long Fall Back to the Center" - acrylic on gallery wrapped canvas, 16" x 20" x 1.5". Ready to hang (sides are painted; no need to frame. Hanging hardware attached). Available here and at Artfinder.

Tossed under the tree
The cracked bones

Of the owl's most recent feast
Lean like shipwreck, starting

The long fall back to the center--
The seepage, the flowing,

The equity, sooner or later
In the shimmering leaves

The rat will learn to fly, the owl
Will be devoured.

- from "Bone Poem" by Mary Oliver

The Long Fall Back to the Center

hike treasures

The thing about lost hikes (wandering places where few feet have been) is the preponderance of bones.

And the more my eyes are trained to see in the wilderness (shadows, hidden paths, lichens, scat, briars, poison oak, loose rock) the. more I see the bones. It seems they are there for me to find - messages from spirits long gone, reminders of the preciousness of life, invitations to get close to the center of everything.

On a recent hike, the bones of a juvenile deer lay strewn about near a dry creek bed. Dainty, delicate, decayed. She came home with me, this little one. Cleaned gently with bleach and soft brush. Dried in the sunlight on the kitchen counter. Weird? Maybe. Exquisitely beautiful - yes.

Her stark coloring inspired this painting, in which I set about to capture just the bones of an image.

About the art: I began using an old time photo as a reference (run through the Notanizer, of course) and selected a color palette from painting by Lita Cabellut (which reminded me of the bones).

I began with a 3 minute charcoal sketch and 5 minutes of shaping the composition with titanium white running into the charcoal. This video jumps off from there. Red, green, buff, titanium white and black charcoal. A tiny dollop of yellow ochre. Resisting the urge to overly define. Allowing the viewer's eye to complete portions of the figure. Liberal use of rubber wedge to carve back into the wet paint.

Finishing touches were not captured on video. That's what happens when the artist is in charge of the camera. :)

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Fight Like a Girl

3/18/2021

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"Fight Like a Girl" (a collaborative diptych) - 20" x 34" x 1.75". Mixed media on deep cradled wood panel. Ready to hang (Sides are painted; no need to frame. Hanging hardware attached.) This piece was created by Trina Tarlton and Jen Jovan. Available here.

I have walked this body to the rim of its ends
From there I have seen everything else
It was there I felt the flexing of the bicep
And the sudden swing of hips

The traffic island of the heart

A basilica of stone waiting for skin
I stood on the rims and carved the tree rings in

- Jenny Hval and Susanna, "I Have Walked This Body"

This is what happens when one artist dares another to push boundaries. Things get, well, pushed.

Fight Like a Girl

Trina suggested a collaboration. We had a general idea...but then blew that out of the pond and just let it run wild. Between us, we have a lot of mutual history - spinal injury, baddassery, big love and big loss. And art.

So sending boards through the mail and painting on another person's work - whoa! But we did it. And it is something neither one of us would have independently dared to do. We've redefined how to fight like a girl.

Enjoy the video - turn up the volume, see what happens when artists collide.

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The Inverse Distance of Our Proximity

3/15/2021

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The Inverse Distance of Our Proximity

"The Inverse Distance of Our Proximity" (a triptych) - acrylic on cradled wood panel, 8" x 24" x .75". Ready to hang (sides are painted; no need to frame. Hanging hardware is attached.). Available here and at Artfinder.

Our human essence lies not in arrival, but in being almost there, we are creatures who are on the way, our journey a series of impending anticipated arrivals. We live by unconsciously measuring the inverse distances of our proximity: an intimacy calibrated by the vulnerability we feel in giving up our sense of separation. - DAVID WHYTE

I am almost there.

On the way. Arrival anticipated. Losing my sense of separation.

The world conspires with me. Beauty beckons. Inspiration appears. Paint flows. The words arrive to marry with the art. The time opens up to curate them together. A week of what could have been snafus, odd occurrences and off mojo turns into a domino fall of positivity. I lean back into the universe, feel its arms softly hold me, and breathe.

About the art: acrylic applied to unprimed birchwood panel using rubber wedge, squeegee, chopsticks, fingers and paper towels. Paying attention to one color talking to (or arguing with) another. The requisite 80 million layers. A spot of cadmium red. A sigh. Yes!

I've had a few reader requests for background tips. So here's a quick video showing one way to begin building backgrounds (similar to today's piece but larger). The unprimed wood allows a lot of sub-texture and the absorption of paint into crevices and woodgrain.

I wonder what background music Wonder Mike chose for this one?

NEW FLASH! My instagram account is now instagram.com/jenjovanart. It is being initially curated by the outrageously talented Tricia French, whose eye sees me and my art in ways I never imagined. I hope you'll take a gander and maybe linger awhile...more to come!

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KNOWN

3/11/2021

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"Known" - acrylic on Arches 300 lb watercolor paper, 22" x 30". Available here and at Artfinder.

The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen. - Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

I've been thinking about the word beautiful.

To. me, beauty is more than what's on the outside. It is the inner human landscape shining through to the outside. Or, in the natural world, beauty includes the emotion the visual beauty arouses when we view it. So this quote, which very aptly describes why so many of my beloved tribe are the. most beautiful people on earth, struck a chord in me.

Known

And it was oddly wonderful to process this quote even as I was creating a figure painting. The figure, drawn quickly in charcoal and then completed in acrylic paint, begins in a place of visual beauty (the human form) but is only complete because of the intensity of the gaze. I continue to hunt for emotion and attempt to capture it in the paint.

In the photo (left), you can see the size of the piece. But also that I am trying to figure out what the heck he is gazing at out there. He hadn't told me yet. But when he does, you'll be the first to know. :)

So I don't have a demo video for you today...but I have this amazing TED Talk on the power of awe and the role of art in creating it (thank you Mark H. for sharing this with me!). Take a look! I'd love to hear what you think. :)

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Wild Wild Life

3/8/2021

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"Wild Wild Life" - acrylic on cradled wood panel, 12" x 12" x .75". Available here and at Artfinder.

I'm wearing-a fur pajamas
I ride a hot potato
It's tickling my fancy
Speak up, I can't hear you

Here on this mountaintop, oh-oh-oh
I got some wild, wild life
I got some news to tell you, oh-oh
About some wild, wild life
from the Talking Heads - "Wild Wild Life"

Here on this mountaintop...where I was last week after the most challenging and awe-inspiring hike of my life. Which was part of an entire week of recharging in the great outdoors, finding inspiration and energizing my depleted batteries. If you need a power boost, climb a mountain in deep snow, stand on the top and yell "WAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" to the universe. Just sayin'.

Wild Wild Life

Let's talk grasshoppers and ants for a minute.

The proverbial grasshopper plays in the sun, doesn't think much about tomorrow, is present and maybe ill-prepared for calamity. The ant, on the other hand, is all about storing for a rainy day, work work working - no play, and making sure every future possibility is covered. I've spent my entire life as an ant. And I thought that was because, well, I was an ant at heart.

But recently (thank you pandemic for keeping me less busy and giving me time to think!) I've uncovered the very real possibility that my ant-ness was in response to a long history of situations that left me holding the responsibility bag and therefore ant-ness was required. So I've decided to give my inner grasshopper an open door. And whoa. It. might just be the key to everything. Less anxiety, less exhaustion, better sleep, MORE JOY and the ability to make and savor deeper connections with humans and the world around me.

And so I might be late now and again. Or miss a deadline. Or have nothing in the refrigerator. But on the other hand, I'm wearing-a fur pajamas, I ride a hot potato. It's tickling my fancy. Want to join me?

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The Pine Tree

3/1/2021

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The Pine Tree

"The Pine Tree" - charcoal and acrylic on Arches 300 lb watercolor paper, 15" x 22". Available here and at Artfinder

Come to me pine tree and we will never part
We'll put our roots down deep in each other's heart
from The Pine Tree by Johnny Cash

A recent walk through Powell Butte Nature Park has me filled with the scent of pine. So many trees and branches of those great giants were on the forest floor after the big melt, and pine essence just saturated the atmosphere. It was aroma-palooza!

So that prompted me to finalize this abstracted landscape, which was begun two posts ago with a double 3 minute sketch (two pieces at once using charcoal and water). This stooped pine was from a hike on Silver Star Mountain, where the snow lay heavily on everything, making slouched figures from trees, long arms from branches, and a visual feast of sparkle in the sunlight.

For this piece, I decided to stick with a limited color palette: ultramarine blue, raw umber, titanium white and a small drop of dioxazine purple (which happened to be leftover and still wet on my paint palette). The majority is painted with a wide, wet brush, with a bit of squeegee, some finger painting, and a small brush for a few finishing touches.

It is a serene, simple piece. Evocative of the hush and solitude of the mountain in winter, with nary a soul but my sister and me.

Note: demo video has an audio soundtrack! Turn on the volume. :)

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REBUS

CALL ME Nomad Woman

The Long Fall Back to the Center

Fight Like a Girl

The Inverse Distance of Our Proximity

KNOWN

Wild Wild Life

The Pine Tree

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