- Published on
"All the Danger We Came From" - oil on plywood, 16" x 20". Available here and at Artfinder.
When you get older, plainer, saner
When you remember all the danger we came from
Burning like embers, falling, tender
Long before the days of no surrender
Years ago and well you know
- LP, "Lost on You"
There is something internally expansive about learning to see in two dimensions (seascapes, this month) while simultaneously learning to see within your own experience of living.
This painting, for example. Are we looking ahead toward the horizon and whatever is just beyond the cliffs? Or are we looking behind us and seeing the fiery sky fall away in the distance?
When you get older, plainer, saner
When you remember all the danger we came from
Burning like embers, falling, tender
Long before the days of no surrender
Years ago and well you know
- LP, "Lost on You"
There is something internally expansive about learning to see in two dimensions (seascapes, this month) while simultaneously learning to see within your own experience of living.
This painting, for example. Are we looking ahead toward the horizon and whatever is just beyond the cliffs? Or are we looking behind us and seeing the fiery sky fall away in the distance?
All the Danger We Came From
There is a lot of looking ahead in the world right now - trying to figure out what's next, how to navigate the future and what the trajectory of all the things happening might be. I'm trying not to spend time there. Instead, I reflect on what is behind and then mine it for the wisdom I need right now. But I won't spend too much time there, either. The present is filled with wonder.
Like this singer/songwriter a friend just introduce me to. Holy mackerel. A little audio treasure along the path to seeing.
About the painting: oil on gesso'd plywood. Beginning with thin layers spread with rubber brayer and a soft cloth, then adding texture with palette knife and chopstick. A little dry brushing to soften sky and water.
- Published on
"The Stories I Tell Myself" - mixed media on wood panel (plywood, uncradled) 12" x x10" Available here and at Artfinder.
I couldn't resist sneaking a figure into the seascapes month. But you knew this would happen, right?
The stories we tell ourselves are not only about the people we love and the relationships we have with them. We also tell ourselves stories that form a narrative of our lives — and the narrative is everything. - RENATA GOMEZ
An article on Medium reminded me this week of Brené Brown's story of, well, the stories we tell ourselves.
We have some powerful narratives going on in our noggins. Stories about the person sitting across from us. Stories about that thing in the past when the bottom dropped out of life for a time. Stories about people we see but don't know. Stories about people we do know but into whose heads we cannot see (ie: everyone). But I think the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves are perhaps the most powerful of all. And they aren't always pleasant.
I couldn't resist sneaking a figure into the seascapes month. But you knew this would happen, right?
The stories we tell ourselves are not only about the people we love and the relationships we have with them. We also tell ourselves stories that form a narrative of our lives — and the narrative is everything. - RENATA GOMEZ
An article on Medium reminded me this week of Brené Brown's story of, well, the stories we tell ourselves.
We have some powerful narratives going on in our noggins. Stories about the person sitting across from us. Stories about that thing in the past when the bottom dropped out of life for a time. Stories about people we see but don't know. Stories about people we do know but into whose heads we cannot see (ie: everyone). But I think the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves are perhaps the most powerful of all. And they aren't always pleasant.
The Stories I Tell Myself
I mean, really, how many of you have a narrator somewhere in there who whispers little untruths? Like "you are not worthy of (insert your word here)" or, for artists "you are an imposter." Some days I have to stop and ask myself "hey, who is telling this story, anyway?" And then I decide I want a new narrator. Which I can have. I wonder if Morgan Freeman is available?
About the painting: beginning with a thick layer of toned gesso over an old painting on plywood, I roughed in the form with paint pens and and a light coat of white gesso to identify the light spots. Added colors in the standard 80 million layers (carefully selected at random, based entirely on my mood!) and then slowly reined in the color mayhem to create shadows and light. The entire underpainting is acrylic, watercolor mixed with gesso and a bit of Art Graf. A final layer of oil paint to add vibrancy in a few key spots.
Tools used include brush, rubber wedge, squeegee, paper towel, chopstick and hands.
Tools used include brush, rubber wedge, squeegee, paper towel, chopstick and hands.
- Published on
"Shale Slides - oil on plywood, 16" x 20". Available here.
In the long journey out of the self,
There are many detours, washed-out interrupted raw places
Where the shale slides dangerously
And the back wheels hang almost over the edge
- Theodore Roethke, from "Journey Into the Interior"
It was a week of limited color abstracted seascapes in oils...learning to soften edges, resist over defining, create movement in paint. Which oddly parallels my life at the moment. Edges softening. Allowing situations and concepts to be more free-flowing and less defined. Creating movement during times where movement is somewhat restricted. That Universe....it just loves connecting the dots between art and life.
In the long journey out of the self,
There are many detours, washed-out interrupted raw places
Where the shale slides dangerously
And the back wheels hang almost over the edge
- Theodore Roethke, from "Journey Into the Interior"
It was a week of limited color abstracted seascapes in oils...learning to soften edges, resist over defining, create movement in paint. Which oddly parallels my life at the moment. Edges softening. Allowing situations and concepts to be more free-flowing and less defined. Creating movement during times where movement is somewhat restricted. That Universe....it just loves connecting the dots between art and life.
Shale Slides
Interrupted Raw Places
"Interrupted Raw Places -oil on panel, 7" x 7". Available here.
The thing about resisting definition (in art and in life) is that you have to be comfortable not knowing exactly where the edges are. Which, as Roethke so aptly pointed out, may leave your back wheels hanging almost over the edge. I suppose this is the same as living at the edge of your eyeballs, which we've touched on before, dear reader. The place we strive to be in order to know we are really, really living.
The thing about resisting definition (in art and in life) is that you have to be comfortable not knowing exactly where the edges are. Which, as Roethke so aptly pointed out, may leave your back wheels hanging almost over the edge. I suppose this is the same as living at the edge of your eyeballs, which we've touched on before, dear reader. The place we strive to be in order to know we are really, really living.
About the art: In the first piece, the substrate is plywood, which allows some very nice geological texture when the paint is scraped and pushed. The second piece is on standard art panel - much smoother. In both cases, palette knife, rubber wedge and paper towel were the only implements. The oils were mixed with cold wax to allow a thicker build up of texture.
- Published on
"Lean Into the Wind of Our Days" - mixed media on wood panel (plywood, uncradled) 20" x 16". Available here and at Artfinder.
We must protect and keep the small flame we carry from being blown out, we must lean into the wind of our days, and we must accept and not run from the shadow we cast for being human.
- MARK NEPO, The Exquisite Risk
It is an odd and wonderful synchronicity to be simultaneously painting abstracted seascapes and also nearing the end of another soul-bending Nepo book. His words inform the paintings, and then the paintings reach into the book and grab more words for themselves. Like these:
Nothing is solved on our journey, not in life or in a book. Rather, we are, through love and suffering, ushered into a wakeful living that clarifies and softens our experience into something irreducible and precious.
Oh yes. Wakeful living is not for the timid, I tell you. And I am a little saddened to think that nothing is solved on this journey, though. Yet there is a sweet freedom, perhaps, in giving up all the effort to find solutions and pour it into living instead.
We must protect and keep the small flame we carry from being blown out, we must lean into the wind of our days, and we must accept and not run from the shadow we cast for being human.
- MARK NEPO, The Exquisite Risk
It is an odd and wonderful synchronicity to be simultaneously painting abstracted seascapes and also nearing the end of another soul-bending Nepo book. His words inform the paintings, and then the paintings reach into the book and grab more words for themselves. Like these:
Nothing is solved on our journey, not in life or in a book. Rather, we are, through love and suffering, ushered into a wakeful living that clarifies and softens our experience into something irreducible and precious.
Oh yes. Wakeful living is not for the timid, I tell you. And I am a little saddened to think that nothing is solved on this journey, though. Yet there is a sweet freedom, perhaps, in giving up all the effort to find solutions and pour it into living instead.
Lean Into the Wind of Our Days
If you can stand one more quote (hang in there, dear reader!), this one speaks to me of my own inner rebellion of the last couple of years along with maybe something more universal that we're all experiencing during tumultuous times:
I know, for me, it has taken half a century to cross some ocean in myself. And finally, what I feel is what I say and what I say is what I mean. What I mean is that others, so used to my gargantuan efforts to be good, don't understand my efforts to be real. They find me coming up short. But I'm simply burning old masks.
I promise not to burn my covid masks (of which I am curating quite a collection). Just the odd metaphorical mask which stands between the real me and the world.
I know, for me, it has taken half a century to cross some ocean in myself. And finally, what I feel is what I say and what I say is what I mean. What I mean is that others, so used to my gargantuan efforts to be good, don't understand my efforts to be real. They find me coming up short. But I'm simply burning old masks.
I promise not to burn my covid masks (of which I am curating quite a collection). Just the odd metaphorical mask which stands between the real me and the world.
About the painting: beginning with an image merge (courtesy of Image Blender) of one of my sketches and a photo from a trip to Ireland, a rough composition was drawn on plywood. Drawing with a paintbrush and making many directional marks, then glazing and moving the wet paint with a rubber wedge, squeegee and at several points my own hands. More directional marks with the edge of the rubber wedge and liberal use of a water bottle and sprayer.
It appears that 80 million is about the right number of layers for all paintings. So if you have less than that, get back to work. :)
- Published on
"Gully" acrylic on wood panel (plywood, uncradled), 18" x 14". Available here and at Artfinder.
They cut out her heart, and they left her dead, in a gully, for the forest to swallow. - Neil Gaiman, Snow, Glass, Apples
In preparation for the coming month of seascapes with the amazing Pauline Agnew, (I know, I know, Pauline Agnew this and Pauline Agnew that...what can I say? The woman is that good) I decided to work on a large self-portrait of sorts and get the figure out of my system for a bit (as if that's possible). Still focused on capturing emotion, which isn't always smiles and malarkey.
Simultaneously, I received my copy of the Neil Gaiman graphic novel adaptation of Snow White and was gobsmacked by the art, the twist on the story and the depth of emotion captured in the book. Perfect timing for an angsty portrait and a week of feeling a bit stuck in the gully.
They cut out her heart, and they left her dead, in a gully, for the forest to swallow. - Neil Gaiman, Snow, Glass, Apples
In preparation for the coming month of seascapes with the amazing Pauline Agnew, (I know, I know, Pauline Agnew this and Pauline Agnew that...what can I say? The woman is that good) I decided to work on a large self-portrait of sorts and get the figure out of my system for a bit (as if that's possible). Still focused on capturing emotion, which isn't always smiles and malarkey.
Simultaneously, I received my copy of the Neil Gaiman graphic novel adaptation of Snow White and was gobsmacked by the art, the twist on the story and the depth of emotion captured in the book. Perfect timing for an angsty portrait and a week of feeling a bit stuck in the gully.
Gully
This piece began as a paint over - a little green gold mixed with gesso over what was a very dark painting. The odd geometric shapes of the gesso underpainting were an interesting way to begin. Continuing with paint pens and more gesso, creating a form to be inhabited by the portrait. Many layers of acrylic paint and acrylic paint mixed with medium for glazing.
And now that this one is finished, I can spend a month by the sea (well, kind of sort of) with my toes in the salt water...or, erm, paint. :)
- Published on
"Where the Smoke Blows Back" - acrylic on plywood (baltic birch, uncradled) 18" x 11" x .5". Ready to hang (back has been pre-wired for hanging). Available here and at Artfinder.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
- Shel Silverstein, Where The Sidewalk Ends
I've never been a slow walker. I like a pace that is purposeful and brisk. Slow and measured? Not in my wheelhouse. But you know that pesky universe...it makes me do the things I wouldn't normally do to get to places where I might not otherwise arrive.
When the smoke blows back, it is instinctive to hurry scurry outta there. But in my hurry, I miss the smoke signals, so to speak. The lessons in the blow back. And so I am trying to slow my roll.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
- Shel Silverstein, Where The Sidewalk Ends
I've never been a slow walker. I like a pace that is purposeful and brisk. Slow and measured? Not in my wheelhouse. But you know that pesky universe...it makes me do the things I wouldn't normally do to get to places where I might not otherwise arrive.
When the smoke blows back, it is instinctive to hurry scurry outta there. But in my hurry, I miss the smoke signals, so to speak. The lessons in the blow back. And so I am trying to slow my roll.
Where the Smoke Blows Back
About the art: This piece began as the thing you are NEVER supposed to do as a painter - use the leftover paint on your palette to begin a new piece, without purpose or planning. And, in general, whenever I try that a big coat of gesso goes over the entire thing and I begin again. In this rare instance, however, there was an interesting composition in the hastily splatted paint. And thus I landed in a dystopian forest landscape with a fiery backdrop to charred trees. Acrylic paint thickly applied with rubber wedge, paintbrush, fingers and chopstick.
- Published on
"The Still Point" - mixed media on wood panel (baltic birch plywood, uncradled) 28" x 11" x .5" Ready to hang (back has been pre-wired for hanging). Available here and at Artfinder.
breathe kindness
in this sacred space
inhabit the still point
balanced between
inhale and exhale
- Tatiana Sakurai, Fields of Creation, Lightworker Training
I'm looking for the still point. Unlike in my more youthful days, when stillness was the last thing on my radar. Remember youth? When drama and excitement were everything?
Inhabiting the still point - the space between
I'm practicing breathing kindness into those in-between places. On a warm June day with a gentle breeze and the pooch rolling about on the patio, it doesn't seem so hard. :)
breathe kindness
in this sacred space
inhabit the still point
balanced between
inhale and exhale
- Tatiana Sakurai, Fields of Creation, Lightworker Training
I'm looking for the still point. Unlike in my more youthful days, when stillness was the last thing on my radar. Remember youth? When drama and excitement were everything?
Inhabiting the still point - the space between
- breaths
- raindrops
- heartbeats
- words
I'm practicing breathing kindness into those in-between places. On a warm June day with a gentle breeze and the pooch rolling about on the patio, it doesn't seem so hard. :)
The Still Point
About the painting: another archeological piece which has been sitting on the easel for months. With each other painting I was working on, another layer or mark or glaze was added to this one. It was an exercise in not being focused on outcome or progress. Rather, just adding a bit here and there until it unveiled what it wanted to be. The still point between other paintings. :
- Published on
"Squandered" - mixed media on wood panel (plywood, uncradled), 30" x 23". Available here and at Artfinder.
I am installed in a fairylike place. I do not know where to poke my head; everything is superb, and I would like to do everything, so I use up and squander lots of color, for there are trials to be made. - Claude Monet
Last month's workshop gave me HEAP LOADS of new tools to work with. And I decided to try to use them all in a mash-up.
So this piece began with two of my photographs put through an app called Image Blender. It allows you to take two photos (or a photo and an image of a painting, or two paintings) and merge them into one blended composition. (Before you ask, inserting a photo of your own face over your landscape photographs is a terrible idea!) You can adjust which image is dominant, or blend them equally. After I saved that image, I ran it through the Notanizer app so I could adjust the values within the blended pic.
I am installed in a fairylike place. I do not know where to poke my head; everything is superb, and I would like to do everything, so I use up and squander lots of color, for there are trials to be made. - Claude Monet
Last month's workshop gave me HEAP LOADS of new tools to work with. And I decided to try to use them all in a mash-up.
So this piece began with two of my photographs put through an app called Image Blender. It allows you to take two photos (or a photo and an image of a painting, or two paintings) and merge them into one blended composition. (Before you ask, inserting a photo of your own face over your landscape photographs is a terrible idea!) You can adjust which image is dominant, or blend them equally. After I saved that image, I ran it through the Notanizer app so I could adjust the values within the blended pic.
Squandered
Image Blender + Notan Photo Mash-Up
Now that's a LOT of app use for this painter. But the results were intriguing, so I sketched it out on a large piece of plywood with Artgraf and white gesso. And asked myself "NOW WHAT?"
Thanks to the course, I have some mad paint blending skills. So I went to the book of Monet paintings referenced during the course and chose one of Monet's dark, moody garden paintings as my inspiration color palette. Stealing a palette from a master is a lovely shortcut when you want to be certain everything will harmonize.
inspiration painting
Using as wide a variety of paint application implements as possible (extreme variety instead of extreme limitation) and adding 80 million layers of acrylic paint and watercolor crayon (well, maybe not quite that many) - something happened that made me step back and smile.
Thanks to everyone who participated in the "Joy Pocket" challenge last week! Wonder Mike put his nose in a pile of names, and came up with Carl S. as the winner of a tiny original painting! Congratulations, Carl!
- Published on
Holy Ground
"Holy Ground" and "Jagged Edges", mixed media on wood panel (plywood, uncradled) each 10" x 8". Available here and at Artfinder.
And it is often in the jagged edges of experience we refuse to pick up that the mystical strength of all human experience waits. In truth, any sliver of glass or broken dream will do to puncture our illusions. There, we will stumble on holy ground. -MARK NEPO, The Exquisite Risk
There have been some jagged edges in the last few weeks. And it is so tempting not to pick them up. Wouldn't we rather sink into pajama days filled with coconut ice cream and Netflix? Maybe. But later on we will be glad (so glad) if instead we slayed the dragon of illusion and found the real deal waiting on the other end of a broken dream.
And it is often in the jagged edges of experience we refuse to pick up that the mystical strength of all human experience waits. In truth, any sliver of glass or broken dream will do to puncture our illusions. There, we will stumble on holy ground. -MARK NEPO, The Exquisite Risk
There have been some jagged edges in the last few weeks. And it is so tempting not to pick them up. Wouldn't we rather sink into pajama days filled with coconut ice cream and Netflix? Maybe. But later on we will be glad (so glad) if instead we slayed the dragon of illusion and found the real deal waiting on the other end of a broken dream.
Now that's a lot of heavy lifting for a Thursday during a normal week, let alone one riddled with masks and hand sanitizer and protest signs. Which calls to mind something my dad used to say to me whenever life heaped manure on top of the sweet smelling rose bushes - find the joy in every day.
The gist of that was this: there is joy in everything, even the stinky stuff. And it is important, maybe even vital, to grab that joy and stuff it in your pocket without guilt or hesitation. It is absolutely ok to smile and feel good for a moment in the midst of the other stuff.
So let me ask, dear reader, what will you put in your joy pocket today? My pocket is crammed with a 7 lb chihuahua and a handful of air-fried cremini mushrooms (yum). Leave a comment below and said chihuahua will select a winner at random to receive a tiny piece of original art. Because YOU, dear reader, make every day sparkly for me. :)
The gist of that was this: there is joy in everything, even the stinky stuff. And it is important, maybe even vital, to grab that joy and stuff it in your pocket without guilt or hesitation. It is absolutely ok to smile and feel good for a moment in the midst of the other stuff.
So let me ask, dear reader, what will you put in your joy pocket today? My pocket is crammed with a 7 lb chihuahua and a handful of air-fried cremini mushrooms (yum). Leave a comment below and said chihuahua will select a winner at random to receive a tiny piece of original art. Because YOU, dear reader, make every day sparkly for me. :)
Jagged Edges
About the art: continued small studies in color palettes from the e-course last month. Acrylic heaped on collage with scraper and brush and rubber wedge and fingers. This week I am painting with Princeton Catalyst Polytip brushes, which are oooooooooh la la for a girl who likes stiff but responsive, nearly indestructible brushes. These pieces were finished with a touch of oil pastel and a sprinkling of fairy dust.
- Published on
"Is-ness" - mixed media on wood panel (plywood, uncradled) 24" x 28". Available here and at Artfinder.
Even within our own lives, we tend to compare a happy time with a sad time, a time of ease with a time of struggle, and so, lose the overall richness of an evolving life that has an is-ness of its own. MARK NEPO, The Exquisite Risk
I am trying not to compare things.
Not this week with last week. Not pre-pandemic America with the wild, roiling unrest of now. Not my art with the art of others. Definitely not my hair with yours, beautifully coiffed reader.
A rich, evolving life is messy, but necessary.
Even within our own lives, we tend to compare a happy time with a sad time, a time of ease with a time of struggle, and so, lose the overall richness of an evolving life that has an is-ness of its own. MARK NEPO, The Exquisite Risk
I am trying not to compare things.
Not this week with last week. Not pre-pandemic America with the wild, roiling unrest of now. Not my art with the art of others. Definitely not my hair with yours, beautifully coiffed reader.
A rich, evolving life is messy, but necessary.
Is-ness
About the painting: This piece was inspired by a rough sketch in india ink, gesso and oil pastel on paper (left) during the color course last month with Pauline Agnew. The assignment was to take the sketch and bring it alive with color during "fire" week. Though I love the bleak starkness of the sketch most of all, I am intrigued by the blaze within the colorized version, which was achieved with watercolor crayons thickly applied and smeared on top of the acrylic underpainting. The entire piece was then sealed with a spray fixative to keep the crayon in place.
