- 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!
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Here is this week's 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!
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Watch and listen to today's blog post HERE!
Bonus malarkey!
- 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.
Watch and listen to the blog on YouTube!
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And bonus malarkey!
- Published on
How Strangely Still
How Strangely Still
oil on canvas paper
19 x 12 inches (plus a small border for framing)
How still,
How strangely still
The water is today.
It is not good
For water
To be so still that way.
- LANGSTON HUGHES
oil on canvas paper
19 x 12 inches (plus a small border for framing)
How still,
How strangely still
The water is today.
It is not good
For water
To be so still that way.
- LANGSTON HUGHES
The thing about chaos and unrest and dis-ease is this: when it is calm for a moment, you no longer trust the calm. Even the stillness feels threatening; the quiet malevolent. I think that's where we are in all the madness circumnavigating the geopolitical globe.
I saw a post by a friend this week noting that she felt depressed, saddened - even though the problematic situations in her close perimeter were all resolved. And I feel a bit of this as well. No matter how much I accomplish, how beautiful the day, how peaceful our home life and how rested and nourished I am, there is a sense of dread.
It feels unfair. Unfair to the people forced into bomb bunkers. Unfair to the detained and deported. Unfair to the marginalized, to those stripped of identity and rights, to those who are hungry or houseless or ill. What have I to personally be unsettled about? Is it fair for me to feel this?
Ah, yes, well my peace-loving, community- seeing self says this: we are all connected. And the more we lean into that connection, the more we allow ourselves to notice the strangely still water and allow ourselves to be wary and disturbed, the faster our response will be when our voices and actions our needed. We should feel ill at ease. Our global community hurts, and so must we.
Ah, yes, well my peace-loving, community- seeing self says this: we are all connected. And the more we lean into that connection, the more we allow ourselves to notice the strangely still water and allow ourselves to be wary and disturbed, the faster our response will be when our voices and actions our needed. We should feel ill at ease. Our global community hurts, and so must we.
About the art: a piece of gesso'd canvas paper; and artist with paint and a palette knife - what now? Ready? Set? GO! Draw a high horizon line. Begin laying in rectangles of color. See the light on the water. See the necessary dark, hidden troughs. Move the knife on its flat side with big arm strokes in a sky of mottled paint - moving upward and diagonally for movement. There. Walk away. Stop fiddling with it. It is done.
Watch and listen on YouTube!
And here's a little malarkey to start your week!
- Published on
The Time That Is Given Us
The Time That Is Given Us
oil on wood panel
11 x 14 x .25 inches
This item is unframed
(click on the image to purchase)
I wish it need not have happened in my time, said Frodo.
So do I, said Gandalf, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.
- J.R.R. Tolkien
I spend a bit of time thinking about, well, time.
The older I am, the faster it goes. The faster it goes, the more precious each day becomes. The more precious the day, the less patience I have with the state of things in the world. And that very impatience distracts from the decision still within my hands - what do do with the time I have in the times in which we live.
And so in this moment, dear readers, I want to thank you.
Thank you for the gift of the time you spend reading, listening, watching and commenting. Those moments could be spent doing anything - and yet you spend them here with me. That is a huge gift, and I so appreciate you . xo
The older I am, the faster it goes. The faster it goes, the more precious each day becomes. The more precious the day, the less patience I have with the state of things in the world. And that very impatience distracts from the decision still within my hands - what do do with the time I have in the times in which we live.
And so in this moment, dear readers, I want to thank you.
Thank you for the gift of the time you spend reading, listening, watching and commenting. Those moments could be spent doing anything - and yet you spend them here with me. That is a huge gift, and I so appreciate you . xo
A quick shout out to my friend, the artist Carl Stoveland, whose blog just experienced a rebirth! His experience, wisdom and voice is another great gift in the world. Take a read! A worthwhile place to spend some precious time.
About the art: In pursuit of an abstracted portrait with a limited color palette (I sometimes work best with one metaphorical hand tied behind my back) I began with a Notan of my own face highly simplified into light and shadow. I chose reds and yellows as my primary colors, and began blocking the darks in with red over a piece of gesso'd wood panel. The goal was to keep things loose, resist over defining and allow the addition of a small amount of cool tones to set the piece off. In the end, I embraced a more geometric approach (following the paint) and worked wet into wet to achieve the various shades of warm tones. The impact is punchy! Yes!
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click on the YouTube link!
- Published on
Messy and Marvelous
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
Messy and Marvelous
oil on cradled wood panel
14 x 11 x .75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang
(click on the image to purchase)
It cannot be always comfortable.
So love the thousand knives as they enter
and see your shape still sitting.
See that you too belong to paws
of soft silent hungers, to thirst-tangled
roots, to silver-spun constellations.
Know you’re no sicker than the rest of us.
The big secret is this: No one else can brave you.
Messy, yes. And marvelous. - Rachel Hébert
Life is a little uncomforable right now in the world. We are challenged each day to process societal changes we may never have imagined in our lifetime.
For each of us, this cannot help but become a very personal examination - what does this mean for me? For those around me? For my neighborhood, for my city? What does it mean for my mental and emotional health and for my physical wellbeing?
We are, each one of us, messy and marvelous. The spotlight seems to be on the messy part right now. And so we hone our investigations to focus on the beauty, the kindness, the tenderness and the hope. Yep, there are still the thousand knives poking and prickling and prodding. We are still here, still sitting, still marvelous.
We are, each one of us, messy and marvelous. The spotlight seems to be on the messy part right now. And so we hone our investigations to focus on the beauty, the kindness, the tenderness and the hope. Yep, there are still the thousand knives poking and prickling and prodding. We are still here, still sitting, still marvelous.
About the art: inspired by misty views as I walk across the bridge toward the city in the morning. I began with a gesso'd wood panel and drew a rough geometric composition in pencil. A wash of darks across the center line and a wash of lights across sky and water. Rough dabs of treeness and building-ness draaaaaaaaagged with a rubber wedge up and down, side to side. Resisting the urge to define. Allowing the shapes to be blurred as they were in the fog and mist, a paper towel to smudge them some more. A final coat of varnish to seal the deal.
The first installment of a Question Exchange with Dotty S, who brilliantly suggested using poetry for her answers, which prompted me to create art in conjunction with my answers! Out of the box and out of this world! Here was my first question for Dotty, with her response following:
An invitation to dine.
I find myself wondering what it would be like if we sat down and had a meal together - just a casual, long lunch between friends. And so, here is the menu!
Appetizers - what whets your appetite for writing and painting, makes you want to go there, do that?
An invitation to dine.
I find myself wondering what it would be like if we sat down and had a meal together - just a casual, long lunch between friends. And so, here is the menu!
Appetizers - what whets your appetite for writing and painting, makes you want to go there, do that?
appetizers
the everyday no-nonsense part
of a particular artist i know
leans toward eat-to-live
rather than live-to eat.
this gal, god love her,
doesn't snack,
rarely nibbles while she preps food,
is disinclined to have any kind of happy hour
where she sits out on the back deck
before a meal to whet her appetite
with crackers or cheese or chips or hummus
or crudités or hard cider.
she'd sooner take a walk than eat a snack,
sooner have her fill at the table than at the stove,
sooner read than partake before dinner.
however, the part of her that shows up
to write poems and paint? that gal has a
different story altogether! she is all about
snacks, always has an eye out for
appetizers, is not shy whatsoever
about loading up
the cocktail plate she carries
at all times in her pocket,
cannot curb the gusto
with which her hungry
self reaches for starters!
a sliver of shadow? she begins salivating.
canapés of calendula and coreopsis? she grabs a handful.
an amuse-bouche of seeing her neighbor watering her garden
on a summer morning? pass her the recipe.
an hors d'oeuvre of grief? she's unafraid to roll it around
on her tongue to explore its depth of bittersweet.
an antipasto of kandinsky concentric circles? bring on the hot sauce.
consider yourself forewarned:
when she starts noshing,
do not get in her way.
--dotty seiter
the everyday no-nonsense part
of a particular artist i know
leans toward eat-to-live
rather than live-to eat.
this gal, god love her,
doesn't snack,
rarely nibbles while she preps food,
is disinclined to have any kind of happy hour
where she sits out on the back deck
before a meal to whet her appetite
with crackers or cheese or chips or hummus
or crudités or hard cider.
she'd sooner take a walk than eat a snack,
sooner have her fill at the table than at the stove,
sooner read than partake before dinner.
however, the part of her that shows up
to write poems and paint? that gal has a
different story altogether! she is all about
snacks, always has an eye out for
appetizers, is not shy whatsoever
about loading up
the cocktail plate she carries
at all times in her pocket,
cannot curb the gusto
with which her hungry
self reaches for starters!
a sliver of shadow? she begins salivating.
canapés of calendula and coreopsis? she grabs a handful.
an amuse-bouche of seeing her neighbor watering her garden
on a summer morning? pass her the recipe.
an hors d'oeuvre of grief? she's unafraid to roll it around
on her tongue to explore its depth of bittersweet.
an antipasto of kandinsky concentric circles? bring on the hot sauce.
consider yourself forewarned:
when she starts noshing,
do not get in her way.
--dotty seiter
Dotty's first question for me was:
what is the origin story for your life as an artist?
What is the origin story for my life as an artist?
It began with a banishment.
For 50 years, I ran from the art police. In a moment of frustration (and likely inebriation), my mother banned me from art as a child. Untalented. A mess! Don't ever go near art!
I never questioned it. Sure, I knitted scarves, played musical instruments, wrote short stories and poems, hooked rugs, made jewelry...but it wasn't ever art. Just crafts
When I was 50, while working an overnight shift unloading trucks to make extra money, one of my co-workers invited me to an art journaling class she was teaching. I looked at her quite seriously and said sorry, I can't. I've been banished from art. And she laughed. And laughed. And laughed! She told me a person actually could not be banished from art, and insisted I go.
I did.
And I never looked back.
what is the origin story for your life as an artist?
What is the origin story for my life as an artist?
It began with a banishment.
For 50 years, I ran from the art police. In a moment of frustration (and likely inebriation), my mother banned me from art as a child. Untalented. A mess! Don't ever go near art!
I never questioned it. Sure, I knitted scarves, played musical instruments, wrote short stories and poems, hooked rugs, made jewelry...but it wasn't ever art. Just crafts
When I was 50, while working an overnight shift unloading trucks to make extra money, one of my co-workers invited me to an art journaling class she was teaching. I looked at her quite seriously and said sorry, I can't. I've been banished from art. And she laughed. And laughed. And laughed! She told me a person actually could not be banished from art, and insisted I go.
I did.
And I never looked back.
The December Reader Giveaway continues! Leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered. One lucky commenter will win their own Question Exchange, to be defined in the way which suits them best! I can hardly wait! xo
- Published on
These Numbered Days
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
These Numbered Days,
These Unrepeatable Hours
oil on canvas panel
each 8 x 10 inches
These pieces are unframed.
(click on the image to purchase)
...the measure of an unwasted life is not what outlives it but how it was lived — how much integrity and authenticity and creative vitality filled these numbered days, these unrepeatable hours. -THE MARGINALIAN
I've been thinking about the third act in a life.
My life, to be exact.
There are people (mostly very wealthy people) who are trying to add multiple acts to a lifespan. And there are people who are more focused on the legacy they will leave behind, be it statues or street names or towers or ballrooms.
And we are a society focused on productivity: how much can you do, how much MORE can you do, how fast can you do it. Which leaves very little time or energy for just, well, living.
Admittedly, these are things I have the luxury of time, resources and near-retirement to contemplate. But wouldn't it be worthwhile if we directed the ship of our lives toward integrity, authenticity and creative vitality from the get-go? I try to imagine how my life would have unfolded if I had not been taught to do more, do better, do faster and instead had been taught to slow down, be curious, be true to myself.
I don't have all the answers - no, no, NO! But I have questions. How about you?
And we are a society focused on productivity: how much can you do, how much MORE can you do, how fast can you do it. Which leaves very little time or energy for just, well, living.
Admittedly, these are things I have the luxury of time, resources and near-retirement to contemplate. But wouldn't it be worthwhile if we directed the ship of our lives toward integrity, authenticity and creative vitality from the get-go? I try to imagine how my life would have unfolded if I had not been taught to do more, do better, do faster and instead had been taught to slow down, be curious, be true to myself.
I don't have all the answers - no, no, NO! But I have questions. How about you?
These Unrepeatable Hours
About the art: I recently had the opportunity to demonstrate oil painting to an up-and-coming young artist who was moving from acrylics to oils. Over the course of several hours, we built layers of oil paint on abstracted landscapes while pondering the trajectory of our creative lives. These pieces were started during that paint session, and completed over the weeks following. Intuitive landscapes built rapidly and then refined, with a focus on lean-to-fat paint building, color and texture. They are small but impactful, and the process reminded me of the value of just diving in and letting the paint lead where it wants to.
The November Reader Giveaway is here! Leave a comment on any blog post in November to win a Question Exchange with me! Five questions each, asked and answered. We're building connections in the world, moving closer in small steps. Ready? Set? GO!
The annual sale is nearly here!
Gesso murders will be rampant! Paintings will be obliterated! And the lucky ones will go home to savvy collectors who know this happens once a year and grab their favorites.
Is this to make money? Nope! Not at these prices.
Is it to make room? Not at all, as I have BIG storage here.
What's it for?
Good question!
Firstly, it puts original art in the hands of those for whom it might generally be just out of reach - that's mega important!
Secondly, it keeps this artist from becoming too precious about the work. A focus on what works, rather than what does not work.
Thirdly, who doesn't want to dump gesso or paint over a piece of art? An act of protest! Of deconstruction!
Of demolition! YES!
Gesso murders will be rampant! Paintings will be obliterated! And the lucky ones will go home to savvy collectors who know this happens once a year and grab their favorites.
Is this to make money? Nope! Not at these prices.
Is it to make room? Not at all, as I have BIG storage here.
What's it for?
Good question!
Firstly, it puts original art in the hands of those for whom it might generally be just out of reach - that's mega important!
Secondly, it keeps this artist from becoming too precious about the work. A focus on what works, rather than what does not work.
Thirdly, who doesn't want to dump gesso or paint over a piece of art? An act of protest! Of deconstruction!
Of demolition! YES!
- Published on
Vanished
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
Vanished
oil on yupo
11 x 14 inches
This item is unmounted and unframed.
(click on the image to purchase)
There is no assuaging the fear that things end & people leave. - SIMON JIMENEZ, THE VANISHED BIRDS
On my journey through life, on the way to self-understanding, I have come to know I am often deeply afraid of the end of things, especially relationships (romantic, familial, social, professional and so on). That fear has sometimes kept me embroiled in situations which were unhealthy, unacceptable and even abusive.
I accept this aspect of myself now, even to the point where I can write about it here, in a public space. Admittedly, I am a tiny bit nervous about doing so.
It is a remnant of the past, an echo of history, a whisper from my inner child. This person I have become sees the beauty of many endings and the space created by them for other, better, bigger, marvelous things! Even the completion of a painting creates space and time for the next one.
Right now, the ending of summer has created space for the beauty of fall. The end of a glorious vacation brings inspiration and a new sense of earned badassery.
I am curious - how are you with endings?
It is a remnant of the past, an echo of history, a whisper from my inner child. This person I have become sees the beauty of many endings and the space created by them for other, better, bigger, marvelous things! Even the completion of a painting creates space and time for the next one.
Right now, the ending of summer has created space for the beauty of fall. The end of a glorious vacation brings inspiration and a new sense of earned badassery.
I am curious - how are you with endings?
I spent four years in a studio of white walls. Slowly, inxorably ruining the walls with tape, paint, nail holes, bumps and scuffles until the walls pulled my eyes away from the art and chastized me. What are you doing with these white walls, they demanded to know. And I had no answer. What color do you paint walls when you live in a wonderland of color?
But knowledge is vast and the internet is astounding and I came across this article which was a lightbulb moment: there are specific colors best suited for studio walls. Who knew? Not me.
And now, after the crew has departed, the walls are nodding and high-fiving me and waiting for me to start painting with them as the backdrop. Ok, challenge accepted
But knowledge is vast and the internet is astounding and I came across this article which was a lightbulb moment: there are specific colors best suited for studio walls. Who knew? Not me.
And now, after the crew has departed, the walls are nodding and high-fiving me and waiting for me to start painting with them as the backdrop. Ok, challenge accepted
About the art: this piece began as an intuitive response to color - a dash of leftover red-orange on a piece of Yupo, a need to put teal nearby. And before I knew it there was full immersion and a palette full of paint, a palette knife and time passing without my knowledge. A landscape of sorts, a place to rest from the world, vertical tree-ness and flowing water-ness and a deep sigh of contentment. If only all paintings flowed this way!
Thanks to Trina T. for the idea she placed in the "suggestion box" last week! For the month of October, the Reader Giveaway winner will have the opportunity to participate in a Question Exchange - five questions asked and answered between the reader and myself, via email, phone call or Zoom. Trina's idea to foster connection during tumultuous times is a grand one, I think, and I am looking forward to seeing how this experiement resonates with all of you, dear readers. XO
To enter the giveaway, simply leave a comment on any blog post this month - even if it is another idea for the "suggestion box" for reader giveaways! And thanks to all who read, comment and share this blog. You make me smile!
To enter the giveaway, simply leave a comment on any blog post this month - even if it is another idea for the "suggestion box" for reader giveaways! And thanks to all who read, comment and share this blog. You make me smile!
- Published on
We Decided to Survive More
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
We Decided To Survive More
oil on canvas panel
20 x 24 inches
This item is unframed
(click on the image to purchase)
Look, we are not unspectacular things.
We’ve come this far, survived this much. What
would happen if we decided to survive more? To love harder?
What if we stood up with our synapses and flesh and said, No.
No, to the rising tides.
Stood for the many mute mouths of the sea, of the land?
What would happen if we used our bodies to bargain
for the safety of others, for earth,
if we declared a clean night, if we stopped being terrified... Ada Limón, DEAD STARS
I've been thinking about muscles.
How they need to be stressed and then rested to grow, to strengthen and to become resiliant. The balance of stress and rest matters - both equally important. And for me, the struggle is always to embrace the rest. I am happiest in motion.
And it is the same with our tender hearts, our feisty spirits, our burning creativity. We must push and stress and exercise them, and then rest. So while my muscles were pushed to the limit this month with 15 days of consecutive hiking, bouldering, cliff-climbing and sand walking, my insides were resting. I was unaware of how needed it was.
How they need to be stressed and then rested to grow, to strengthen and to become resiliant. The balance of stress and rest matters - both equally important. And for me, the struggle is always to embrace the rest. I am happiest in motion.
And it is the same with our tender hearts, our feisty spirits, our burning creativity. We must push and stress and exercise them, and then rest. So while my muscles were pushed to the limit this month with 15 days of consecutive hiking, bouldering, cliff-climbing and sand walking, my insides were resting. I was unaware of how needed it was.
So I was delighted and surprised upon our return to find clarity, energy, enthusiasm and boldness simmering up within me. A desire to shake things up, explore, dive deeply, climb higher than I thought I should. Where will this take me? I cannot wait to find out.
In the meantime, the studio is getting a coat of bold, dark paint. OOOOOH!
What a mess! Ready for painters.
About the art: Beginning with a gesso'd canvas board and a rough idea of composition, I sketched the basics with a brush laden with thinned oil paint. Slowly building the sections - working back and forth between colors and shapes, not lingering in any one place too long. Coming back into the wet paint with chopsticks, rubber wedge, fingers and an edge of cardboard to rough up the smooth sections and add texture and veiny lines. Stepping away before any section became too precious to me.
Thanks heaps and bunches to everyone who has participated in several years of Reader Giveaways! What a wild ride - over 75 pieces of art given away to lovely humans around the world. I am just beside myself thinking about that! WOWEE!
The inner muse says it is time to do something different in the giveaway space...I am not sure what it is yet, but I am very excited to see what happens! The suggestion box is open! What would YOU like to see replace the monthly Reader Giveaway? Leave a comment below!
The inner muse says it is time to do something different in the giveaway space...I am not sure what it is yet, but I am very excited to see what happens! The suggestion box is open! What would YOU like to see replace the monthly Reader Giveaway? Leave a comment below!
- Published on
Fear-Slayer
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
Fear-Slayer
oil on artboard
16 x 20 x .25
This item is unframed
(click on the image to purchase)
One by one she slew her fears, and then planted a flower garden over their graves. - John Mark Green
Empowered females continue their reign in the studio, determined to slay lingering fears and adorn themselves in feathered finery. I let them have their way, grabbing a few feathers floating down from their extravagent garb as they perch upon the skylight above my creative lair.
We live in a feathered home. Inside, where feathers gathered on our wanders (crows, wild turkeys, eagles, hawks, pelicans, osprey, egrets, herons) appear in vignettes around the rooms, and outside where our own crow family leaves feathers of delight.
We also live in a house of bones - found and gathered, collected and curated, real and sculptured imitations, highfalutin and kitchy both. Bones on the inside (inside our home on shelves, inside containers, inside our bodies) and on the outside (skeletons guarding the castle).
And over the last year or so we've created a house of stones as well. Agates and other beauties gathered in and by the sea, tumbled, polished, stacked inside, tossed outside, in our Little Free Library for passersby.
We also live in a house of bones - found and gathered, collected and curated, real and sculptured imitations, highfalutin and kitchy both. Bones on the inside (inside our home on shelves, inside containers, inside our bodies) and on the outside (skeletons guarding the castle).
And over the last year or so we've created a house of stones as well. Agates and other beauties gathered in and by the sea, tumbled, polished, stacked inside, tossed outside, in our Little Free Library for passersby.
These things are exquisite on their own, each a treasure to be gently held and admired, but also reminders of the places we've been to find them, the beauty our eyes have beheld, the sweat and seawater and poison oak and bug bites and scrapes and falls and tangled hair and sunburned shoulders and frozen fingers and toes. Sometimes recalling those times with awe - wait, did we really go there and do that? WHOA!
So off we go on another adventure (while we can, while the world allows it, while our bodies are strong) to return with treasures outside and inside, laden yet lightened of world and worry.
Blog and blogger will return in October! Just in time for the spooky season....muwahahahahahaha.
So off we go on another adventure (while we can, while the world allows it, while our bodies are strong) to return with treasures outside and inside, laden yet lightened of world and worry.
Blog and blogger will return in October! Just in time for the spooky season....muwahahahahahaha.
About the art: taking the idea of grounding a painting against a bit of black (which I have been playing with on the pen and ink drawings) and adding both color and a bit of negative space play, I used a mask to place the form of this piece onto a piece of artboard gessoed in white by using black gesso around it. I then sketched in the details with a pencil to deliniate color blocks and shape changes. Over several weeks, loading the color in layers and layers with small brushes and a bit of precision (similar to pen and ink work). Then layers of mixed darks to deepen the parts deliniated with black gesso, and warmer white for the left side of the background. A wet brush for background swirls and paint drips from the black wing, followed by a final layer of Gamvar to seal the piece and add a little shine. Voila! She's brave and flamboyant all at once.
Congratulations to Marta and Dotty! Wonder Mike chose your names as winners of the August Reader Giveaway! Send your mailing address to thewanderingsoflola@gmail.com and your prizes will be in the mail pronto!
Thank you to all who subscribe, read, comment and share this blog. Your participation brings this space to life! Hooray!
Thank you to all who subscribe, read, comment and share this blog. Your participation brings this space to life! Hooray!
