- Published on
The Griots Sing
The Griots Sing
oil on canvas
15 x 30 inches
This piece is one of two promotional giveaways for those who preorder MonstroUS
oil on canvas
15 x 30 inches
This piece is one of two promotional giveaways for those who preorder MonstroUS
Here we are, two weeks away from the official release date of MonstroUS!
I can tell you I am full of butterflies, smiles, excitement and JOY at the thought of holding this book in my two hands. And also heart-felt gratitude for the publisher, editor and grand poobah of WayWord Books, the talented and enchanting Leslie Rindoks.
Rindoks and I have worked together on a number of projects over the last decade. On each of those projects I was an illustrator, not a writer. Until now.
I can tell you I am full of butterflies, smiles, excitement and JOY at the thought of holding this book in my two hands. And also heart-felt gratitude for the publisher, editor and grand poobah of WayWord Books, the talented and enchanting Leslie Rindoks.
Rindoks and I have worked together on a number of projects over the last decade. On each of those projects I was an illustrator, not a writer. Until now.
G.D. Fortune
oil on canvas
10 x 30 inches
This piece is one of two promotional giveaways for those who preorder MonstroUS
oil on canvas
10 x 30 inches
This piece is one of two promotional giveaways for those who preorder MonstroUS
She's the kind of human who is constantly creating - she and I once spent time in Ireland together drinking Guinness and dreaming up a salty musical with irreverent songs (we never finished this project, but I still think of the unfinished Fork & Wagon, The Musical with a smile).
Rindoks went on to open her own imprint, WayWord Books, in South Carolina while I moved across the country and began a whole new adventure of my own in Oregon.
When I received an inquiry from her offering the opportunity to write and illustrate a book, I was over the moon. This kind of faith in a previously untested skill (my ability to write a book) is a real honest-to-goodness dream come true, and not something that happens often in life.
Rindoks went on to open her own imprint, WayWord Books, in South Carolina while I moved across the country and began a whole new adventure of my own in Oregon.
When I received an inquiry from her offering the opportunity to write and illustrate a book, I was over the moon. This kind of faith in a previously untested skill (my ability to write a book) is a real honest-to-goodness dream come true, and not something that happens often in life.
G.D. Fortune
I think the key to this book coming together so beautifully is teamwork (as is the key to most successful things). Having an editor who is excited about the project, demanding and yet encouraging certainly helped me over the rewrite hurdles. And for Rindoks, having a writer/illustrator who would meet deadlines and embrace changes (well, most of them anyway) might have helped, too.
If you have a book in your noggin itching to get out, finding the right (WRITE!) team is the difference between finishing the book and getting stuck in the mire. Whether you are working with an editor like Leslie Rindoks, or a writing coach like Thea Fiore Bloom chemistry between you is the magic elixir of creating something wondrous.
And guess what? YOU are part of that magic elixir for me! Your feedback on the blog, the art, the process and my own journey have been instrumental in building the confidence I needed to tackle this, well, monster of a project. THANK YOU!!!
I had the opportunity to interview Rindoks once MonstroUS was complete. There is a link to the interview on YouTube below!
If you have a book in your noggin itching to get out, finding the right (WRITE!) team is the difference between finishing the book and getting stuck in the mire. Whether you are working with an editor like Leslie Rindoks, or a writing coach like Thea Fiore Bloom chemistry between you is the magic elixir of creating something wondrous.
And guess what? YOU are part of that magic elixir for me! Your feedback on the blog, the art, the process and my own journey have been instrumental in building the confidence I needed to tackle this, well, monster of a project. THANK YOU!!!
I had the opportunity to interview Rindoks once MonstroUS was complete. There is a link to the interview on YouTube below!
Each preorder automatically enters you into a drawing
to win one of the two paintings featured in this post!
Winners to be announced on release day
(anticipated to be June 30th)
Watch and listen to the blog on YouTube!
A MonstroUS Interview!
You can watch and listen on YouTube!
Bonus Malarkey!
- Published on
Resolute
oil on panel
24 x 18 inches
This item is unframed.
I want to be a mountain.
Live oak limbs and black gum roots.
I want a base, ample and unshakable.
Thick and steady. Storm-ready.
Resolute.
- L.E. BOWMAN
oil on panel
24 x 18 inches
This item is unframed.
I want to be a mountain.
Live oak limbs and black gum roots.
I want a base, ample and unshakable.
Thick and steady. Storm-ready.
Resolute.
- L.E. BOWMAN
I grew up powerless in the shadows of the powerful. Voiceless though I raised the alarm, invisible though I tried very hard to be seen. It was a bit like standing at the base of a mountain. Well, more like standing at the base of a mountain abutting the ocean, where sneaker waves crashed against one side of me, and the cliff face loomed in a straight vertical against the other side. It is, in real life, a formula for drowning.
I never wanted to be the sea, with its unpredictable temperament and grabbiness. I wanted to be the mountain - unshakable and storm-ready. Perhaps that is why standing on top of some pinnacle at the end of hours of hiking feels both triumphant and holy.
This upbringing of mine and the subsequent lifetime accumulation of survival skills (used awkwardly and inelegantly) somehow became the very fuel needed for writing MONSTROUS.
Rather than tell you the story of writing the book (the pages, the rewrites, the illustrations and hours and months and so on), I will instead share an except from the book, which perhaps tells it better.
I never wanted to be the sea, with its unpredictable temperament and grabbiness. I wanted to be the mountain - unshakable and storm-ready. Perhaps that is why standing on top of some pinnacle at the end of hours of hiking feels both triumphant and holy.
This upbringing of mine and the subsequent lifetime accumulation of survival skills (used awkwardly and inelegantly) somehow became the very fuel needed for writing MONSTROUS.
Rather than tell you the story of writing the book (the pages, the rewrites, the illustrations and hours and months and so on), I will instead share an except from the book, which perhaps tells it better.
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR (but do keep wishing)
IN A NONDESCRIPT midwestern town somewhere in the early
1970’s, a middle-schooler sat at a desk in geography class writing
short horror stories. The instructor had a monotonous voice and
wore his sweater-vests inside-out, so writing was the way to stay alert,
as well as a way to delight classmates when the stories were passed
from desk to desk. The middle-school girl had unruly dark hair, thick
glasses, bumps on her face and hairy legs. Was she a witch? If only. A
few spells might have worked against the monsters at home. In the
meantime, writing horror stories made the real horrors seem somehow less.
Fifty years later (FIFTY YEARS!) the (now grown) girl receives a
missive from a magical being inviting her to write and illustrate a
book. She raises an eyebrow, waiting for the catch, but instead finds
the door opened to a world outside of the box,
rules abandoned, caution thrown to the wind—just waiting for her.
WHERE DO I SIGN?,
she yells, and a contract lands in her lap.
Fifteen months, 60 illustrations and a dozen stories later, a book is
born under the practiced and expert eye of the magical being (who
happens to be an enchantress and book doula).
Somewhere in the time loop, a
middle-schooler is screaming with
joy, jumping on her desk and shouting
TAKE THAT, YOU FUCKING MONSTERS!
She accepts detention for swearing and marches off
to gleefully serve her time.
IN A NONDESCRIPT midwestern town somewhere in the early
1970’s, a middle-schooler sat at a desk in geography class writing
short horror stories. The instructor had a monotonous voice and
wore his sweater-vests inside-out, so writing was the way to stay alert,
as well as a way to delight classmates when the stories were passed
from desk to desk. The middle-school girl had unruly dark hair, thick
glasses, bumps on her face and hairy legs. Was she a witch? If only. A
few spells might have worked against the monsters at home. In the
meantime, writing horror stories made the real horrors seem somehow less.
Fifty years later (FIFTY YEARS!) the (now grown) girl receives a
missive from a magical being inviting her to write and illustrate a
book. She raises an eyebrow, waiting for the catch, but instead finds
the door opened to a world outside of the box,
rules abandoned, caution thrown to the wind—just waiting for her.
WHERE DO I SIGN?,
she yells, and a contract lands in her lap.
Fifteen months, 60 illustrations and a dozen stories later, a book is
born under the practiced and expert eye of the magical being (who
happens to be an enchantress and book doula).
Somewhere in the time loop, a
middle-schooler is screaming with
joy, jumping on her desk and shouting
TAKE THAT, YOU FUCKING MONSTERS!
She accepts detention for swearing and marches off
to gleefully serve her time.
About the art: beginning with an old oil painting on a flat panel, I roughed in a basic mountainous scene with bold strokes of oil paint and a brush. Drawing on our hikes along the rugged Oregon coast, where waves crash ominously against tall vertical cliffs and rocks, but without using a reference photo, a worked with big shapes and broad brush strokes. This piece took form over five weeks, where drying time between layers allowed me to come back in and build color layers while scraping back enough to let the underpainting peek through. Finishing with a palette knife to add rough highlights and whitecaps to the waves, and a wet brush through the sky to drag paint over the mountaintops.
View the blog on YouTube!
This week's bonus malarkey is the book announcement video! A quick animation including one of the characters from MONSTROUS.
- Published on
The Soft Wild Part
oil on aquabord
9 x 12 inches
This item is unframed
There is a soft wild part of me
that I abandoned somewhere along the way the way.
I found her again in the quiet hours
when everything hurt too much to pretend.
She came back smellling of rain
carrying stories I had locked away
telling me that the ache
was simply the map
leading me home
- @shespeaksinmagic/instagram.com
oil on aquabord
9 x 12 inches
This item is unframed
There is a soft wild part of me
that I abandoned somewhere along the way the way.
I found her again in the quiet hours
when everything hurt too much to pretend.
She came back smellling of rain
carrying stories I had locked away
telling me that the ache
was simply the map
leading me home
- @shespeaksinmagic/instagram.com
I am learning to listen to the ache. To the hurt. To the sadness. To listen, to feel and to let that soft wildness loose into the world.
Sometimes that looks like painting. Other days it is hiking or beachcombing for hours. Listening to wind, surf, birds and my boots crunching over trails littered with debris loosens the knots and dread - the big and the small.
Recently, this listening and setting loose has taken the form of writing. The last eighteen months, particularly, because an enchanted being in a publishing castle sent me on a quest and gave me free rein. (And free reign over the writing domain). The soft wildness of that quest is now itself set loose upon the world in the form of a book.
I'll talk more about this in the coming weeks. For now I am just basking in the smell of rain released by the words and art contained within this treasure of a book. Oh my.
Sometimes that looks like painting. Other days it is hiking or beachcombing for hours. Listening to wind, surf, birds and my boots crunching over trails littered with debris loosens the knots and dread - the big and the small.
Recently, this listening and setting loose has taken the form of writing. The last eighteen months, particularly, because an enchanted being in a publishing castle sent me on a quest and gave me free rein. (And free reign over the writing domain). The soft wildness of that quest is now itself set loose upon the world in the form of a book.
I'll talk more about this in the coming weeks. For now I am just basking in the smell of rain released by the words and art contained within this treasure of a book. Oh my.
Framing ideas for this piece
About the art: an intuitive abstract landscape - working with brush and palette knife, I roughed in a basic composition based on hikes we've taken into mountainous areas. The layers of hills and ravines and rocks; the hugeness of the sky. Resisting the urge to get overly detailed or "precious" about the piece, I worked quickly to capture light and shadow, big shapes and highlights. Is that water? Is it snow? Is that the smell of rain off in the distance?
it's COMING!
clawing and shredding!
nearly here!
Release date June 30
Watch and listen on YouTube!
Bonus malarkey!
- Published on
Coyote In Control
oil on cradled wood panel
12 x 24 x 1.5 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
oil on cradled wood panel
12 x 24 x 1.5 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
Coyote In Control
John F. Kennedy
New York City
I saw him across the lobby
flight 161
St. Louis
Albuquerque.
Coyote looked in control
cool
fitting right into the city
smiling when a pretty woman passed him
figuring out his flight
making calculations from behind
the New York Times.
Slick
right down to his Tony Lamas
Coyote
I’d recognize him anywhere
Copenhagen
New York
Gallup.
People say
you can dress ’em up
but once a coyote
always a coyote.
- NORA NARANJO-MORSE
John F. Kennedy
New York City
I saw him across the lobby
flight 161
St. Louis
Albuquerque.
Coyote looked in control
cool
fitting right into the city
smiling when a pretty woman passed him
figuring out his flight
making calculations from behind
the New York Times.
Slick
right down to his Tony Lamas
Coyote
I’d recognize him anywhere
Copenhagen
New York
Gallup.
People say
you can dress ’em up
but once a coyote
always a coyote.
- NORA NARANJO-MORSE
Oh oh OH! Here I am, looking for the words to partner with the art, coming across Naranjo-Morse's poem, trying to sift for a few lines that fit and NO! I must post the entire thing beccause THIS! What she did with the words, the story, the attitude, the COYOTE-NESS simply could not be sifted, shortened or abbreviated.
And it makes a very good point - so much of art is about words. Words to describe process and inspiration, words to illucidate themes and meaning, words to point the viewer toward a more full, immersive art experience.
In the process of painting, I spend an equal amount of time with paint and with pen (or laptop). Poems and quotes scribbled and copied, authors and poets, researched and read, trains of thought written down in a hurry before they become fireflies in summer and flit away, taking their illumination with them.
And it makes a very good point - so much of art is about words. Words to describe process and inspiration, words to illucidate themes and meaning, words to point the viewer toward a more full, immersive art experience.
In the process of painting, I spend an equal amount of time with paint and with pen (or laptop). Poems and quotes scribbled and copied, authors and poets, researched and read, trains of thought written down in a hurry before they become fireflies in summer and flit away, taking their illumination with them.
Naranjo-Morse influenced my thoughts about my own painting when I came across her poem. This coyote? He's a slick city guy. Hanging out with house cats, wary of cars and security lights. Does he read the New York Times? Maybe?
I'd love to hear what relationship words have with art in your world. Do words make art come alive? Or does art describe something words cannot? Leave a comment!
I'd love to hear what relationship words have with art in your world. Do words make art come alive? Or does art describe something words cannot? Leave a comment!
About the art: beginning with a gesso'd piece of cradled wood panel, I roughed in the basic figure shapes and painted the background from the outside-in to refine the form. I added the first layer of darks to grab the shadow sections. Using a small flat brush I worked on the geometry of the coyote's coat, then the cat's shading. A long drying time. Special attention and a small brush for the faces. Another layer of darks, then carving back in with a rubber wedge on the coyote's chest and neck. Layers of background paint and carving back through that wet paint with a large rubber wedge to create movement. Finally, whiskers!
Watch and listen on YouTube!
Bonus malarkey!
- Published on
Holy Loneliness
oil on Yupo
13 x 19 inches
This item is unmounted and unframed.
oil on Yupo
13 x 19 inches
This item is unmounted and unframed.
Holy Loneliness
"follow your heart,"
they said -
forgetting to mention
the terrible exile that comes
after we find the courage
to step out of the great line
we were expected to march in.
-it can be so lonely to chase our dreams.
still, once we begin,
we must keep going -
because the heart
doesn't know the way back,
only forward.
and once we
taste purpose,
even loneliness feels holy.
- JOHN ROEDEL
they said -
forgetting to mention
the terrible exile that comes
after we find the courage
to step out of the great line
we were expected to march in.
-it can be so lonely to chase our dreams.
still, once we begin,
we must keep going -
because the heart
doesn't know the way back,
only forward.
and once we
taste purpose,
even loneliness feels holy.
- JOHN ROEDEL
How many of you like to step out of the great line we were expected to march in? It isn't easy. It is fraught with peril! The judgment, the naysayers, the critics, those who want to herd the out-of-line-marchers back into formation - people who step out of line make other people, well nervous.
If you are chasing your dreams, those naysayers may think, why aren't I? So there is often a price to be paid, a terrible exile meant to push you back into the queue.
I'm guessing anyone of you who is out there creating, pushing, questioning, exploring and adventuring may have experienced this kind of holy loneliness. Which isn't very lonely after all. And is an invitation for others to step out of line. No need to RSVP, that invitation says, just arrive.
If you are chasing your dreams, those naysayers may think, why aren't I? So there is often a price to be paid, a terrible exile meant to push you back into the queue.
I'm guessing anyone of you who is out there creating, pushing, questioning, exploring and adventuring may have experienced this kind of holy loneliness. Which isn't very lonely after all. And is an invitation for others to step out of line. No need to RSVP, that invitation says, just arrive.
I am personally celebrating each and every one of you. Brave souls who follow their hearts, even if there is no path, no guidebook or map and no instruction manual. We don't need to know the way back. We can just take another step forward with glee.
About the art: beginning with a gesso'd piece of Yupo and a color palette in my mind, I grabbed a wide brush and just ran with this one. I wanted to veer away from preciousness, from tiny details, from tightness and over-control. A wide brush and big strokes makes that easy! I drew a basic series of horizon lines with neutral paint, then began blocking in chunks of color. A wash of pale glow and the suggestion of a sun and its reflection. I worked all around those lights, ignoring them until the very end when I could cut in with the paint and reduce them to the most impactful size. I'm pretty stoked about this one.
Watch and listen on YouTube!
Bonus Malarkey!
- Published on
A Tale Worth Telling
A Tale Worth Telling
oil on Yupo
11 x 18.75 inches (plus a border for framing)
This piece is unmounted and unframed.
oil on Yupo
11 x 18.75 inches (plus a border for framing)
This piece is unmounted and unframed.
Face it. Curiosity
will not cause us to die--
only lack of it will.
Never to want to see
the other side of the hill
or that improbable country
where living is an idyll
(although a probable hell)
would kill us all.
Only the curious have, if they live, a tale
worth telling at all.- ALASTAIR REID
will not cause us to die--
only lack of it will.
Never to want to see
the other side of the hill
or that improbable country
where living is an idyll
(although a probable hell)
would kill us all.
Only the curious have, if they live, a tale
worth telling at all.- ALASTAIR REID
The other side of the hill.
It is the elusive thing artists and writers set their sights on every darn day. The next sketch. The painting that stretches our skills. The chapter (or paragraph or sentence) that we reach for - just out of sight but we know (we know!) it is there.
It's the same when Malcolm and I hike, whether it is in the mountains, through the gorge, along the coast - what's over that hill? Around that bend? Beyond the cove? I can't tell you how many times we've discovered things we never thought to see (sea lions, otters, shipwrecks, caves, burn forests, old stoves) by going just a little further.
But I haven't always been this way.
It is the elusive thing artists and writers set their sights on every darn day. The next sketch. The painting that stretches our skills. The chapter (or paragraph or sentence) that we reach for - just out of sight but we know (we know!) it is there.
It's the same when Malcolm and I hike, whether it is in the mountains, through the gorge, along the coast - what's over that hill? Around that bend? Beyond the cove? I can't tell you how many times we've discovered things we never thought to see (sea lions, otters, shipwrecks, caves, burn forests, old stoves) by going just a little further.
But I haven't always been this way.
I spent many years staying in my lane, not wandering, not adventuring, stifling my curiosity because of outside pressures and inside fears. The anxiety of the unknown can be crippling! But not now, not here. I want to have the most incredible tale to tell when all is said and done.
About the art: beginning with a piece of Yupo covered in white gesso, I lightly drew the figure with a small brush and thinned oil paint. I painting a light wash on the background to isolate the figure in the space, then some drying time. Coming in with darks I delineated the helmet, neck area and the basic figure shape. I used a small rubber wedge to carve back through the paint on the neck to expose the white underlayer and create "wires". A wash of golden yellow for the helmet and body, then blues and teals for the "glass" of the helmet faceplate. After more drying, small crushes and all of the tiny details over many, many layers. Finally, more washes of color to create and atmospheric background, then one more go with the small wedge to carve more "wires" around the helmet. This curious bot makes me smile. There is hope in that architectural visage. :)
Watch and listen on YouTube!
Bonus malarkey!
- Published on
Once Scattered Newly Formed
Once Scattered Newly Formed
oil on cradled wood panel
18 x 24 x 1.5 inches
This piece is unframed but ready to hang.
oil on cradled wood panel
18 x 24 x 1.5 inches
This piece is unframed but ready to hang.
They say that the moon was once part of the earth.
A broken piece forced from her mother's body
and cast into darkness.
But look at her now - perfect and glowing. Whole.
Something once scattered newly formed.
Something once wrecked now complete on her own.
Aren't we all a little scattered? A little wrecked?
I look at her and see hope.
- L.E. BOWMAN
A broken piece forced from her mother's body
and cast into darkness.
But look at her now - perfect and glowing. Whole.
Something once scattered newly formed.
Something once wrecked now complete on her own.
Aren't we all a little scattered? A little wrecked?
I look at her and see hope.
- L.E. BOWMAN
I can't help but think about the moon.
She rises over one side of our home and sets on the other, a benevolent, silent presence reminding me to look up, look beyond and to be amazed by all that out there. She shines in the window like a peeping celestial orb. But it's ok. She is very welcome here.
And this poem - aren't we all a little scattered? A little wrecked? - I feel that in my bones. The world is being reshaped around us, both in the earth's own weather systems and topography and in the systems of cooperation and governance which the humans inhabitants depend upon. And it makes me feel a little scattered, a little wrecked.
Yet...
There's the moon. Up there. A reminder. History has a long, long, long, long arc. This is a blip in all that time. Even all of this will one day be again newly formed.
She rises over one side of our home and sets on the other, a benevolent, silent presence reminding me to look up, look beyond and to be amazed by all that out there. She shines in the window like a peeping celestial orb. But it's ok. She is very welcome here.
And this poem - aren't we all a little scattered? A little wrecked? - I feel that in my bones. The world is being reshaped around us, both in the earth's own weather systems and topography and in the systems of cooperation and governance which the humans inhabitants depend upon. And it makes me feel a little scattered, a little wrecked.
Yet...
There's the moon. Up there. A reminder. History has a long, long, long, long arc. This is a blip in all that time. Even all of this will one day be again newly formed.
About the art: the march of the murdered paintings continues! They are lined up in the studio, ready for their transformations. When I got the idea for this abstract, I was so excited I forgot to take any process pics. Oy! Beginning a brush laden with thinned dark paint, I deliniated the basic structure - horizon line, rolling hills and a falling tumble below. Many washes of color to amp up the brilliance, then a long drying time. A small brush with more darks to re-sculpt the "rocks" and "cliff", then more washes of color over top of the dried sections. A chopstick dragged through the layers to create texture and movement. A small brush splayed and twisted in a circle for the blue moon. A final coat of varnish and a deep, satisfied sigh.
Watch and listen to the blog on YouTube!
Bonus malarkey!
- Published on
Push Back
Push Back
oil on paper
10 x 14 inches (plus a border for framing)
This item is unmounted and unframed
(click on the image to purchase)
You set out to change things, the things you want to change push back. - Adrian Tchaikovsky, Cage of Souls
oil on paper
10 x 14 inches (plus a border for framing)
This item is unmounted and unframed
(click on the image to purchase)
You set out to change things, the things you want to change push back. - Adrian Tchaikovsky, Cage of Souls
The Bradypus (three-toed sloth) and I have something in common. It is the slowest animal in the world, and I am the slowest learner of life lessons in the west.
I can be resilient, tenacious, stubborn and determined. And those qualities are great! Mostly. But they also have me banging my head against things repeatedly, thinking nothing can withstand my determination and effort. Only recently, in this very decade, have I begun to see that NOT pushing is often the best way to move something forward.
This works with other humans, with productivity, with creativity and with goal-setting. Acceptance, observation, and even surrender sometimes loosen a stubborn thing or situation.
I can be resilient, tenacious, stubborn and determined. And those qualities are great! Mostly. But they also have me banging my head against things repeatedly, thinking nothing can withstand my determination and effort. Only recently, in this very decade, have I begun to see that NOT pushing is often the best way to move something forward.
This works with other humans, with productivity, with creativity and with goal-setting. Acceptance, observation, and even surrender sometimes loosen a stubborn thing or situation.
This very much applies to painting.
Anytime a painting is pushing back, it is time to walk away, let it dry awhile and then come back with an "ok, I see you, we will do it your way" approach. Generally, that attitude unsticks the painting and a little magic is released.
And this works with writing, too. I now know it is considered proper ettiquette to approach writing with a gentle, open mind and heart, waiting for the entry point to a story or paragraph or post. Like the beginning of a shamanic journey, where you enter going down into the ground, into a tree hollow, into a cave, through an opening in the clouds - if you listen and wait, the portal appears.
Anytime a painting is pushing back, it is time to walk away, let it dry awhile and then come back with an "ok, I see you, we will do it your way" approach. Generally, that attitude unsticks the painting and a little magic is released.
And this works with writing, too. I now know it is considered proper ettiquette to approach writing with a gentle, open mind and heart, waiting for the entry point to a story or paragraph or post. Like the beginning of a shamanic journey, where you enter going down into the ground, into a tree hollow, into a cave, through an opening in the clouds - if you listen and wait, the portal appears.
Now, mind you, this is not a reason to procrastinate or stop creating. Quite the opposite! Begin something else instead. Prep canvases. Make word lists. Read poetry. Make weird sketches. Afterward, re-approach the other thing and smile, because it's going to let you in now.
About the art: more murderousness in the studio! This time an oil painting on paper, cut into two pieces. In the image, the piece on the left became this painting, with all of that texture making magic in the new piece. I wrestled with this portrait for a month - she wanted what she wanted and I could not convince her otherwise! Once I surrendered, the painting moved along quickly and became something a bit punchy and illustrative. I want to know where this woman is headed and what secrets she holds...
The murdered underpainting
For those who would rather watch and listen to the blog, here is a link to the YouTube version!
And this week's bonus malarkey!
- Published on
The Opening of a Giant Door
The Opening of a Giant Door
pen and ink on Yupo
6 x 8 inches (plus a wide border for framing)
This item is unmounted and unframed.
(click on the image to purchase)
Sometimes you make a very small move and then suddenly a giant door opens and a new exciting path appears before you and thus you understand how something so small carries a potential to create such big magic! Now you know that small is big! - Mehmet Murat Ildan
Keep Your Own Sky
pen and ink on Yupo
5 x 7 inches (plus a wide border for framing)
This item is unmounted and unframed.
(click on the image to purchase)
A fallen feather
knows as much about return
as any wandering comet.
Small things keep their own sky.
- Monika Ajay Kaul
pen and ink on Yupo
5 x 7 inches (plus a wide border for framing)
This item is unmounted and unframed.
(click on the image to purchase)
A fallen feather
knows as much about return
as any wandering comet.
Small things keep their own sky.
- Monika Ajay Kaul
Keep Your Own Sky
Recently the studio has been abuzz with small things...a seasonal swarm of flying ants, exploratory bees and clouds of pollen! The downside of several warm days and open windows.
There are also small things in progress everywhere on the work tables, the drying rack and the staging shelves. An upcoming online auction called the All Small Event has the malarkey flying in a teeny tiny way. A delightful change in focus!
These two pieces snuck out of the event roster to hang out here - a little (pun intended) malarkey to start the week!
There are also small things in progress everywhere on the work tables, the drying rack and the staging shelves. An upcoming online auction called the All Small Event has the malarkey flying in a teeny tiny way. A delightful change in focus!
These two pieces snuck out of the event roster to hang out here - a little (pun intended) malarkey to start the week!
About the art: my design mind is wandering from sleeping birds to fairytales to storybooks to robots and back again. So I sat down, grabbed two concept sketches, a small graphic art pen and some Yupo. They key with using ink and the Yupo is to work from right to left (I am predominantly left-handed, though I paint with both hands) to avoid dragging your hand through the wet ink. It took me a while to get into this habit. So many times I just begin on the left and make a smudgy mess of things. Oy! These two seemed effortless, however. Watching the tin man come to life in this piece brought a big smile to my face, as he is my favorite character in the book.
Here's a link to YouTube to listen and watch the blog!
Bonus! How about a studio tour?
- Published on
Resurrection Is Only For The Strong
Resurrection Is Only For The Strong
oil on Yupo
11.75 x 19 inches (plus a border for framing)
This item is unmounted and unframed
(click on the image to purchase)
being willing to
start over
again and again
is the opposite
of weakness
it's the toughest
thing I can think of
resurrection is only
for the strong
and you, my love,
you are the strongest
person I have
ever met
- JOHN ROEDEL
oil on Yupo
11.75 x 19 inches (plus a border for framing)
This item is unmounted and unframed
(click on the image to purchase)
being willing to
start over
again and again
is the opposite
of weakness
it's the toughest
thing I can think of
resurrection is only
for the strong
and you, my love,
you are the strongest
person I have
ever met
- JOHN ROEDEL
How many of you have started over?
I'd guess maybe most of us, at some point or another. Roedel's words hit me right in the gut - starting over is the opposite of weakness. The reinvention of myself has been a constant musical soundtrack to the bulk of my existence. Sometimes I chose to start again. Other times it was forced upon me. Either way, choice or no choice, when you start over, you are brave. You are strong.
It isn't different in your creative life. Beginning again, whether your art or writing was a fail or a success, requires strength. We pour our beings into what we creatively birth into this world. We know what we will face when we choose to begin again, that blank canvas or white page in front of us. We accept the process will take us on a journey - that we may very well feel uplifted or broken on the other side.
I'd guess maybe most of us, at some point or another. Roedel's words hit me right in the gut - starting over is the opposite of weakness. The reinvention of myself has been a constant musical soundtrack to the bulk of my existence. Sometimes I chose to start again. Other times it was forced upon me. Either way, choice or no choice, when you start over, you are brave. You are strong.
It isn't different in your creative life. Beginning again, whether your art or writing was a fail or a success, requires strength. We pour our beings into what we creatively birth into this world. We know what we will face when we choose to begin again, that blank canvas or white page in front of us. We accept the process will take us on a journey - that we may very well feel uplifted or broken on the other side.
For each of you looking at that new beginning, be it in life or in art, I salute you. You got this. You are the strongest person I have ever met.
About the art: beginning with a gesso'd piece of Yupo, I roughed in the basic figure shape with thinned oil paint and began working from the outside-in with the background. A long drying time. Next I placed the darks, deliniating shapes and sharp edges. Small brushes and many layers to create depth and texture on the face, hand and skin. Flat color on the wings. A base coat for the hair, then the background again to lighten and lift the color story. Finally, a palette knife and paint to create a thick imposto texture on the hair. And more drying time. This piece has been soulful company in the studio for the last few months.
Here's a YouTube version of the blog for those who prefer to watch and listen!
Please like and subscribe on YouTube, to help the algorithm know this version of the blog is worth suggesting to others. And thanks a million!
Bonus malarkey!
