- Published on
The Conversation We Never Had
"The Conversation We Never Had" - oil on cradled wood panel, 18 x 18 x 1.5 inches. Ready to hang. (click on the image to purchase)
If you've ever replayed a conversation over and over in your head and thought about all of the possible ways it could have gone, then you've experienced jouska. "It's this idea of rehearsing or playing out this hypothetical conversation. And in a sense, getting a feeling of control, or ownership over something that of course, is beyond our control," - CHRISTOPHER LELE
Oh-ho! Yes indeed. I am the queen of conversational re-play. And Lele's words hit me right in the gut - it is all about trying to control what I cannot.
If you've ever replayed a conversation over and over in your head and thought about all of the possible ways it could have gone, then you've experienced jouska. "It's this idea of rehearsing or playing out this hypothetical conversation. And in a sense, getting a feeling of control, or ownership over something that of course, is beyond our control," - CHRISTOPHER LELE
Oh-ho! Yes indeed. I am the queen of conversational re-play. And Lele's words hit me right in the gut - it is all about trying to control what I cannot.
Conversations are the ultimate improvisation - they are in the moment, ad-lib, free-wheeling spontaneity with all the risks of embarrassment, regret, rejection and self-judgment that goes along with improvising. But they are also, then, the opportunity to create genius moments on the spot, build your confidence muscles and create a seamless groove between the brain, the mouth and the other human, along with building authentic connection. Some part of me believes if I experience enough jouska, I will be better at conversations in real life. That is not how it works.
The only way to get better at conversing is to - you guessed it - converse. And the only way to have control over things is to - you guessed it again - give up the idea you have any control in the first place.
Which leads to art, the creation of which is a conversation of sorts. And no matter how I see and rehearse the conversation with the canvas in my head, what happens at the end of my fingertips is something else. Often so so SO much better than anything I could have imagined. Well. Who knew?
Which leads to art, the creation of which is a conversation of sorts. And no matter how I see and rehearse the conversation with the canvas in my head, what happens at the end of my fingertips is something else. Often so so SO much better than anything I could have imagined. Well. Who knew?
About the art: This piece began with a gesso murder of an old acrylic painting and a vague idea of what I wanted to create. Something that hints at a dystopian setting, but could also be a landscape, or maybe a contraption or a view into another land. How's that for wishy-washy? But I knew the colors I wanted, so I began with a loose sketch with a long brush laden with thinned oil paint. From there, the piece developed solely with two sizes of rubber wedge and a chopstick. Moving around the piece, sharpening lines here, softening and blurring there. Adding paint with the wedge and then subtracting by dragging another wedge through the wet paint. The ghosts of city buildings (or are those the masts of ships?) appeared on the "horizons" so I let them be. In the end, it is nothing like I imagined, and yet it is something more than that. It packs a lot of punch and drama in a relatively small painting. Huzzah!
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"I Used to Howl" - oil on unstretched canvas, 23 x 18 inches. (click on the image to purchase)
I'd love to leave in winter
I used to carry in the weight of a drum
I'd love to leave in winter
The clock keeps ticking and the calm won't come
I'd love to leave in winter
I used to carry in the weight of a drum
(I'd like to howl)
I'd love to leave in winter
(I'd like to howl)
The clock keeps ticking and the calm won't come
-from PULSE VI by Kerala Dust
I'd love to leave in winter
I used to carry in the weight of a drum
I'd love to leave in winter
The clock keeps ticking and the calm won't come
I'd love to leave in winter
I used to carry in the weight of a drum
(I'd like to howl)
I'd love to leave in winter
(I'd like to howl)
The clock keeps ticking and the calm won't come
-from PULSE VI by Kerala Dust
I Used To Howl
The studio has gone to the dogs.
Winter's chill has crept into our bones, we're craving sun, and every little bit of greenery straining upward for warmth has us hoping spring is just right there.
So there's a bit of growling (and howling and gnashing of teeth) and perhaps a wild look in our eyes. Is that a speck of saliva by the corner of your mouth? Oh, it's got you, too, has it?
Winter's chill has crept into our bones, we're craving sun, and every little bit of greenery straining upward for warmth has us hoping spring is just right there.
So there's a bit of growling (and howling and gnashing of teeth) and perhaps a wild look in our eyes. Is that a speck of saliva by the corner of your mouth? Oh, it's got you, too, has it?
About the art: unstretched canvas likes to gobble the paint, so it's perfect when you want to create something a bit sketchy. It lends itself to sallow flesh tones and scribbles, paint applied with a rag and burnished to a pale stain.
Though it appears there are only light washes of paint, there are actually many layers in heavier thicknesses. And while it is a long process to allow plenty of drying time with this substrate, the resulting effect is scrumptious.
This guy is hungry, by the way. Don't let him near the pie.
Though it appears there are only light washes of paint, there are actually many layers in heavier thicknesses. And while it is a long process to allow plenty of drying time with this substrate, the resulting effect is scrumptious.
This guy is hungry, by the way. Don't let him near the pie.
Congratulations to Mary C.! Wonder Mike chose your name as winner of the February Reader Giveaway. Be on the lookout for package of free art coming your way in the mail. And thanks hugely for participating!
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We Are All Hard And Soft
"We Are All Hard and Soft" - oil on Yupo, 12 x 17. (click on the image to purchase)
“The hard things break. The soft things bend. The stubborn ones batter themselves against all that is immovable. The flexible adapt to what is before them. Of course, we are all hard and soft, stubborn and flexible, and so we all break until we learn to bend and are battered until we accept what is before us. ― MARK NEPO, The Book of Awakening
it's an oft repeated theme with Nepo, this breaking until we learn to bend. And with good reason. Many of us (me! me!) are hard-headed stubborn types. It takes a lot of repetition for wisdom to get through to the soft insides.
Perhaps that's what intrigues me about this series of ballgown-bots - they are hard and soft. Of course, the hard portion is the head. The thoughts are steadfastly guarded with impenetrable helmets and shatter-proof orbs. Hard even as the soft whisper of fabric flows around the rest of the body. Fabric and fashion as a reminder to bend and accept. Methinks I need a fancy dress. :)
About the art: at this point, I have hundreds of inspiration images for this series of ballgown-bots. It becomes easier to see what poses, fabrics, colors and compositions grab my attention - like this one, which I loved immediately. Beginning with unprimed Yupo, I sketched the rough outline of the figure and painted the first wash of the background first. Building layers on the figure, then carving into wet paint with a rubber wedge to "draw" the pleats and folds of the fabric. Rubbing away paint in highlight areas and to expose the now stained Yupo. More layers to the background to deepen the darks. After several days of drying time, a thinned layer of white applied with a large rubber wedge in a circular pattern to soften the "poufs" and give weightlessness to the fabric trim. If only I could wave a paint-laden wedge over my wardrobe...
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"The Stranger" - oil on gallery wrapped linen canvas
30 x 30 x 1.5 inches. Ready to hang.
(click on the image to purchase)
Well, when I was a young man
My professor at university
Said, "Advice is corrupting
Don't ever be trusting
Don't show your emotion
Human suffering is an ocean
And it's dark at the bottom of the sea
And there's no such thing as a stranger
They're all equally backwards and wrong
Sharpen axes, not wits
Bones are broken by sticks
And you never be free till you're strong
- from STRANGER by Ben Caplan
30 x 30 x 1.5 inches. Ready to hang.
(click on the image to purchase)
Well, when I was a young man
My professor at university
Said, "Advice is corrupting
Don't ever be trusting
Don't show your emotion
Human suffering is an ocean
And it's dark at the bottom of the sea
And there's no such thing as a stranger
They're all equally backwards and wrong
Sharpen axes, not wits
Bones are broken by sticks
And you never be free till you're strong
- from STRANGER by Ben Caplan
The Stranger
At some point along the journey in this life, I decided life is a musical.
Everywhere there is a soundtrack, a little skip or dance, dramatic arm gestures and unexpected butterflies and moonbeams and thunderclaps, sorrowful ballads and curtains opened and closed. Ben Caplan's song feels like the gritty musical theme to a wild rumpus in the studio.
This piece, a paint-over of another large character piece, captures a theme that has also persisted through much of my art life - moons and balloons. Mystery and whimsy. Who is this suited stranger?
Everywhere there is a soundtrack, a little skip or dance, dramatic arm gestures and unexpected butterflies and moonbeams and thunderclaps, sorrowful ballads and curtains opened and closed. Ben Caplan's song feels like the gritty musical theme to a wild rumpus in the studio.
This piece, a paint-over of another large character piece, captures a theme that has also persisted through much of my art life - moons and balloons. Mystery and whimsy. Who is this suited stranger?
Art is autobiographical
it always means something -
something about me
My insides, my demons, my outsides, opinions
things churning
up something to see
But people are not so unique
our patterns repeat and persist
I can see you in there
You can see me in here
We are all tangled up
(and so often banged up)
Resemblance is not to be missed.
- LOLA
About the art: I sketched directly on top of an old painting with a long handled brush and thinned paint. Beginning by roughing in the figure (working from the center outward to preserve/protect the whites) and then the background. Using rubber wedge, paper towels, brushes and fingers, keeping loose loose loose. Some palette knife work on the spacesuit to add texture, then liberal application of oil-thinned paint over the wet background to let it run.
Many weeks of drying time on this big painting. It is a reminder in the studio to always be exploring!
Many weeks of drying time on this big painting. It is a reminder in the studio to always be exploring!
It's time for the FEBRUARY READER CHALLENGE! Channel your inner composer and lyricist - if your life were a musical, what would it be called? Extra points if you've got some lyrics to share. :)
The winner will be chosen at random by Wonder Mike at the end of the. month, and will receive a piece of art FREE! Woot!
The winner will be chosen at random by Wonder Mike at the end of the. month, and will receive a piece of art FREE! Woot!
- Published on
Soft Impulses
"Soft Impulses" - oil on Yupo, 11.5 x 17 inches. (click on the image to purchase)
"...we can go below our hardened ways to the soft impulses that birth them. Instead of breaking the bone of our stubbornness, we can nourish the marrow of our feeling unheard. Instead of breaking the bone of our fear, we can cleanse the blood of our feeling unsafe. Instead of counting the scars from being hurt in the world, we can find and re-kiss the very spot in our soul where we began to withhold our trust.”― MARK NEPO, The Book of Awakening
Murderbot Month has ended, but still I wander in the land of robots and cyborgs. Nepo's words take us beneath the hardened exoskeleton of the artificial beings, down to the organic bits of our core.
"...we can go below our hardened ways to the soft impulses that birth them. Instead of breaking the bone of our stubbornness, we can nourish the marrow of our feeling unheard. Instead of breaking the bone of our fear, we can cleanse the blood of our feeling unsafe. Instead of counting the scars from being hurt in the world, we can find and re-kiss the very spot in our soul where we began to withhold our trust.”― MARK NEPO, The Book of Awakening
Murderbot Month has ended, but still I wander in the land of robots and cyborgs. Nepo's words take us beneath the hardened exoskeleton of the artificial beings, down to the organic bits of our core.
Do you count the scars life has given? Or go head to head with your fears? Or try to break your own stubbornness? (me, me - I raise my hand - look at all these scars!) I thought it worked - until it didn't. I recently learned that it isn't enough - nope nope nope. We've got to go below all of that; deeper, more vulnerable, more risky. There's something at the core that wants nourishment, cleansing and kisses. Go past that toughness, beyond the tenacity, leap over the strength and resilience until you land in the thick of it.
The irony is, you have to be tough to go there. You need to be resilient to find the soft impulses. Your strength is required to find, face and love what lies below our hardened ways.
So grab your backpack, stuff it full of your badassery, and let's go there.
The irony is, you have to be tough to go there. You need to be resilient to find the soft impulses. Your strength is required to find, face and love what lies below our hardened ways.
So grab your backpack, stuff it full of your badassery, and let's go there.
About the art - sometimes the AI bot surprises you in the inspiration images it creates. It cannot create a mermaid or a centaur no matter what you tell it, and I've learned to lower my expectations accordingly. But ask it to make a series of cyborg madonnas and it will give you endless images of odd mother-figures and some really, really weird babies. Ignoring the weird ones, I focused on the images that were both heart-touching and compositionally pleasing in the inspiration for creating this painting. Beginning with unprimed Yupo, I sketched in the figure shape and added background with oil-thinned paint. Layers of thinned paint on the bodies. Burnishing off the wet layers with a soft cloth where I wanted highlights. The Yupo is lovely this way - it becomes stained but not thickened, allowing a lot of movement and working back into the layers. As always, resisting the urge to overly define or get fussy.
- Published on
"Pearl Was Even More Nervous" - oil on Yupo, 11.5 x 16.5 inches. (click on the image to purchase)
“So, I’m awkward with actual humans. It’s not paranoia about my hacked governor module, and it’s not them; it’s me. I know I’m a horrifying murderbot, and they know it, and it makes both of us nervous, which makes me even more nervous.” - MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, All Systems Red
“So, I’m awkward with actual humans. It’s not paranoia about my hacked governor module, and it’s not them; it’s me. I know I’m a horrifying murderbot, and they know it, and it makes both of us nervous, which makes me even more nervous.” - MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, All Systems Red
It's great to know exactly who you are, warts and all.
But it is a whole other thing to let someone else see you in all your unfiltered glory. And there are some folks who do that so very well that it looks, well, elegant. I aspire to such effortless grace. For now, I am an awkward, wart-laden bumbler.
But it is a whole other thing to let someone else see you in all your unfiltered glory. And there are some folks who do that so very well that it looks, well, elegant. I aspire to such effortless grace. For now, I am an awkward, wart-laden bumbler.
Pearl Was Even More Nervous
Just look at this sentence in the quote - I know I'm a horrifying murderbot. What if I created some I know sentences?
I know I am a snotty soggy bog creature filled with tears.
I know I am a hand-wringing worry monster with an overactive amygdala.
I know I am myopic and often only see the blurred shapes of things both literal and figurative - blind and bumbling without tools.
It makes me nervous writing these sentences. But also they are kind of funny, because just as Murderbot isn't really a bad seed, neither am I quite as warty as my inner critic says. Just when I thought a murderbot had nothing more to teach me. Hmmmmm.
I know I am a snotty soggy bog creature filled with tears.
I know I am a hand-wringing worry monster with an overactive amygdala.
I know I am myopic and often only see the blurred shapes of things both literal and figurative - blind and bumbling without tools.
It makes me nervous writing these sentences. But also they are kind of funny, because just as Murderbot isn't really a bad seed, neither am I quite as warty as my inner critic says. Just when I thought a murderbot had nothing more to teach me. Hmmmmm.
About the art: If you ask the AI bot for "orb-headed ballgown-bots" and give it a few other parameters, I swear it jumps up and down and says "ME! ME!" and spits out a host of glorious images. It loves fabric, light and round shapes. This piece is inspired by one of those images. To begin, I murdered an old painting with gesso (creating glorious textures) and roughed in the main figure with thinned paint. Working from the outside in to further refine the figure by building layers of thinned paint. Pearl is the result of 80 million layers (nearly) of paint to provide the many variations of color/texture in her outfit. For the boots, RESISTING anything but those few highlights. Hello, Pearl! My, don't you look lovely?
Thanks to all who participated in this month's reader challenge - Where Do You Hang Your Art? Seeing the unusual places where art finds its home was quite delightful and eye opening! Congratulations to reader Thea, whose video made me laugh out loud and garnered her the win! Thea, send your mailing address to thewanderingoflola@gmail.com to collect your original art prize. I wonder where you will hang it? :)
Want to win original art for your unusual space? Stay tuned to your email for next month's challenge! in the weekly blog announcement!
Want to win original art for your unusual space? Stay tuned to your email for next month's challenge! in the weekly blog announcement!
- Published on
"Henrietta Contemplated Countermeasures" - oil on gallery wrapped canvas, 20 x 20 x 1.5 inches. Ready to hang. (click on the image to purchase)
“Now that I knew something was hacking the security cameras to watch me, I could use countermeasures. I probably should have been doing that from the beginning, but as you may have noticed that for a terrifying murderbot I fuck up a lot.”
― MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, Artificial Condition
― MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, Artificial Condition
A good portion of painting is correcting where we messed up. Contemplating such countermeasures keeps me awake at night.
Henriette Contemplated Countermeasures
My partner and I have this conversation often - his medium is often digital, while mine is paint, paint, paint. He will lift layers of his art and go back to a previous version in the event of a mess up. Which may provide a whole lot more incentive to experiment, as well as the temptation to become lost in a never-ending list of options. But this also requires a huge amount of experience and willingness to excavate your own creation. And patience. And the ability to "see" the layers (which are many).
For me, a mistake can mean starting again, changing directions or muttering fervent pleas to the universe to steady my hand long enough to fix something challenging. Sometimes one countermeasure leads to the need for another. The mistakes are legion. And the fix is not always obvious.
What I've learned is this: if I walk away from the piece for a day or two, when I return again the next steps become clear. Even if the next step is a bucket of gesso. Often, though, it is ten minutes of confident execution and VOILA!
What I've learned is this: if I walk away from the piece for a day or two, when I return again the next steps become clear. Even if the next step is a bucket of gesso. Often, though, it is ten minutes of confident execution and VOILA!
About the art: beginning with an older abstract painting in similar colors, I sketched directly on top of the painting with a long handled brush and thinned paint. Working from the outside in, creating layers of color with walnut oil-thinned paint. For the dress, I consulted three books with excellent reference images of fabric rendering. Many more layers with full drying time in between. Pulling final wet layers into the dark background with a wet brush. A final drying and then a layer of varnish to bring out the darks even more. Henrietta, you look maahhhhhhhvelous!
reference books
- Published on
Muriel Was Good at Pretending
"Muriel Was Good At Pretending" - oil on unstretched canvas, 18 x 18 inches. (click on the image to purchase)
“Pretending bad things aren’t happening is not a great survival strategy.”
― MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, Rogue Protocol
“Pretending bad things aren’t happening is not a great survival strategy.”
― MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, Rogue Protocol
The lengths humans may go to in order to avoid looking directly at bad (or uncomfortable) things are extraordinary.
The scaffolding of denial (or avoidance) can be intricate and challenging to surmount. Deeply ingrained, sometimes it's hard to see what is scaffolding and what is just a habit of self-protection.
The scaffolding of denial (or avoidance) can be intricate and challenging to surmount. Deeply ingrained, sometimes it's hard to see what is scaffolding and what is just a habit of self-protection.
If you're like me, even the preceding sentences can make you squirm a little. Um, ew. No thanks, not going there. But, since artists are here to disturb the peace, as the meme says, let's keep going.
This piece, inspired by several AI bot images interpreting an emotive cyborg, immediately grabbed my big red button and said DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! Because I am quite sure there are some things my brain wants to build intricate structures around. And also, how does an AI bot know what "emotive" looks like?
This piece, inspired by several AI bot images interpreting an emotive cyborg, immediately grabbed my big red button and said DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! Because I am quite sure there are some things my brain wants to build intricate structures around. And also, how does an AI bot know what "emotive" looks like?
About the art: experimenting with unstretched canvas, which I gesso'd and taped to a piece of wood. Following the usual steps (sketching with a long brush of thinned paint, slowly adding layers) but stymied a bit because this substrate mutes the pigment quite a lot. Patience, more layers, thicker paint and the color pops began to show. Lots of nice subtleties with the many layers. And the resulting softness of the piece has me quite pleased. Hello, Muriel. Let's untangle that scaffolding.
- Published on
Blanche Hated Caring About Stuff
"Blanche Hated Caring About Stuff" - oil on Yupo, 11.5 x 16.5. (click on the image to piurchase)
“I hate caring about stuff. But apparently once you start, you can't just stop.”
― MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, Rogue Protocol
My brain wants to care about the wrong kind of stuff.
This is a big part of being a human with anxiety, a history of trauma, a bit (or a lot) of familial dysfunction and a gene mutation which makes one likely to experience anxiety and panic.
WHAT? you may say, aghast. THERE ARE GENES THAT CAUSE ANXIETY?
“I hate caring about stuff. But apparently once you start, you can't just stop.”
― MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, Rogue Protocol
My brain wants to care about the wrong kind of stuff.
This is a big part of being a human with anxiety, a history of trauma, a bit (or a lot) of familial dysfunction and a gene mutation which makes one likely to experience anxiety and panic.
WHAT? you may say, aghast. THERE ARE GENES THAT CAUSE ANXIETY?
Well, they may not be the cause of anxiousness, but they do make you likely to jump off that diving board if the opportunity presents itself. And I've got that gene. Which I recently discovered (along with a boatload of other important things) through whole genome sequencing. Which explains a lot, and also opens an entire case of cans of worms.
This leads us to free will. How much do we have if our very response to stimuli is, in essence, pre-programmed?
It is a lot to ponder. And Blanche really doesn't want to Caring about all this stuff (and all the other stuff) takes up too much space in her growing wardrobe of gowns.
It is a lot to ponder. And Blanche really doesn't want to Caring about all this stuff (and all the other stuff) takes up too much space in her growing wardrobe of gowns.
About the art: beginning with an existing painting and murdering it with gesso (this created a lovely texture for the underpainting). A quick sketch based on values, then roughing in the main colors with walnut oil-thinned paint. Focus on keeping it loose, accentuating darks and lights. An oil-wet fan brush was used to drag the ends of the gown shadows into the backdrop as the final touch. Resisting the urge to give facial features to what is hidden in the dark. Blanche is a mystery to all.
- Published on
"Edith Was Having An Emotion" - oil on cradled wood panel, 24 x 36 x 1.5 inches. Ready to hang. (click on the image to purchase)
“I was having an emotion, and I hate that.”
― MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, Exit Strategy
Previously on Mayhem at Malarkey Central: the artist, in a fit of determined transformation and housekeeping, went wild with buckets of gesso and obliterated more than a dozen paintings. She ruthlessly cleared the way for BIG, NEW THINGS! SHINY THINGS! WEIRD AND WONDERFUL THINGS! But we know artists, art pressure and the inner critic - will shiny weird things appear? IS THIS TOO MUCH PRESSURE?
Which leads us to a month of Murderbot (if you haven't read the book series, please DO!). Well, Murderbot and something I'm going to call ballgown-bots. Because that's where the muse shoved me - putting fancy duds on robots.
“I was having an emotion, and I hate that.”
― MURDERBOT, Martha Wells, Exit Strategy
Previously on Mayhem at Malarkey Central: the artist, in a fit of determined transformation and housekeeping, went wild with buckets of gesso and obliterated more than a dozen paintings. She ruthlessly cleared the way for BIG, NEW THINGS! SHINY THINGS! WEIRD AND WONDERFUL THINGS! But we know artists, art pressure and the inner critic - will shiny weird things appear? IS THIS TOO MUCH PRESSURE?
Which leads us to a month of Murderbot (if you haven't read the book series, please DO!). Well, Murderbot and something I'm going to call ballgown-bots. Because that's where the muse shoved me - putting fancy duds on robots.
Edith Was Having An Emotion
At least, that's the surface, snarky description of the thing.
The more vulnerable, prickly artist's intuition description is this: in the search for emotion, can it be found in the thing that has none? And even further, will a thing without emotion (the AI bot) create emotive inspiration images of those emotionless things?
And are we, as humans, more than the sum of our own genetic programming and patterns? Is there free will? Or are we following a path preordained by DNA and body chemistry?
I fear I've bitten off something rather large. But let's go anyway, yes?
The more vulnerable, prickly artist's intuition description is this: in the search for emotion, can it be found in the thing that has none? And even further, will a thing without emotion (the AI bot) create emotive inspiration images of those emotionless things?
And are we, as humans, more than the sum of our own genetic programming and patterns? Is there free will? Or are we following a path preordained by DNA and body chemistry?
I fear I've bitten off something rather large. But let's go anyway, yes?
About the art: beginning with an existing painting (whose colors were in the vicinity of where this piece was going) and some inspiration images created in a dozen long sessions with the AI bot, I sketched directly on top of the old piece with a paintbrush attached to a long stick - a very long stick indeed! This kept the initial sketch loose.
Slowly adding the internal layers with walnut oil-thinned oil paint, then painting the background in many loose layers, allowing hints of the prior painting to peek through. Building layers while trying to resist over-defining the details. Stepping across the room to judge the impact, then forward again to execute the next step. About two weeks of drying time on this big piece.
Slowly adding the internal layers with walnut oil-thinned oil paint, then painting the background in many loose layers, allowing hints of the prior painting to peek through. Building layers while trying to resist over-defining the details. Stepping across the room to judge the impact, then forward again to execute the next step. About two weeks of drying time on this big piece.
