- Published on
Always At My Back
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
Always At My Back
oil on canvas
28 x 31.75 x .75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
(click on the link to purchase)
"It is always at my back,” he continued, “and sometimes it grows bold and its teeth are at my throat. It drags me down, and if I did not carry a shield against it, I could not get up from beneath its weight."
― Adrian Tchaikovsky, Elder Race
There are things that loom over us, lurk behind us, peer over our shoulders. And sometimes engulf us.
Tchaikovsky's quote is from a book which includes a character struggling with clinical depression. His description is haunting.
For me, the thing which is always at my back is, well, my back. My spine, to be exact.
And here's the thing about bones - they are always at your back (and your front, and your limbs, and well, in your head). I have an ongoing conversation with my own bones, osteoporotic and sinking. It goes something like this:
Tchaikovsky's quote is from a book which includes a character struggling with clinical depression. His description is haunting.
For me, the thing which is always at my back is, well, my back. My spine, to be exact.
And here's the thing about bones - they are always at your back (and your front, and your limbs, and well, in your head). I have an ongoing conversation with my own bones, osteoporotic and sinking. It goes something like this:
You doing ok in there?
Yep, just don't bend over, or look up, or look down, or lift anything, or fall down or bang into things.
Hmmm, well that is awfully restrictive! How about if I just lift this thing?
Well, ok, but tomorrow could be iffy.
Iffy?
Uh huh. You might be in some pain.
Might be?
Yes, I can never say for sure.
And why not? I mean, you are the actual bones, right?
Yes, well, I am also prone to sudden mood changes.
Yep, just don't bend over, or look up, or look down, or lift anything, or fall down or bang into things.
Hmmm, well that is awfully restrictive! How about if I just lift this thing?
Well, ok, but tomorrow could be iffy.
Iffy?
Uh huh. You might be in some pain.
Might be?
Yes, I can never say for sure.
And why not? I mean, you are the actual bones, right?
Yes, well, I am also prone to sudden mood changes.
Don't get. me wrong, I love my bones! I am grateful for their reslience and tenacity. But I sometimes delight in portraying my bones as unpredictibly monstrous. Somehow it feels better to imagine a moody monster within than a slowly crumbling structure of minerals. And my bones like being seen as sassy, anyway.
How about you, dear reader - what is always at your back?
How about you, dear reader - what is always at your back?
About the art: another paint-over of a murdered piece of art. Once more the underpainting adds texture and depth to the new work. For the new piece, a rough sketch into the new, wet background paint using a long handled brush with thinned darks. A long drying time. Then working from the faces outward, adding layer upon layer of flesh tones with pinks and oranges and reds. More drying, followed by layers of darks. The suckers on the tentacles were a blast to add layers upon layers to. Finally, the unexpected yellow embellishment on the girl's clothing. Some darkly whimsical fun!
The painting underneath the painting!
Here is the final installment of the wonderful and surprising Questions Exchange with Dotty Seiter.
My last question for Dotty, and her response in poetry:
Aperitif - when you look back at your body of work,
written and painted/drawn/scribbled/collaged
and the life you have lived making all of that, what do you see and feel?
digestif
after yoga class, the poet-artist gives her friend
a ride home and her friend says, wanna join me for lunch?
sure!, she says, and they poke
around her kitchen and cobble together
what they decide to upgrade to a “luncheon," finding
a little of this and a little of that to fill the roles
of appetizer (tortilla chips), soup (tomato juice),
salad (celery sticks), main course (tuna sandwich),
and dessert (frozen thin mint cookies),
at which point her friend says with mock solemnity
and a faux haughty voice,
would you care for an aperitif?
uh, the poet-artist hesitates,
isn't the drink at the end
of a meal called a digestif ?
which hits their funny-bones
and sets them to laughing hilariously.
still laughing, the poet-artist stands up
and asserts, what do we care what it's called!,
i don't want a drink anyway,
best digestif to my way of thinking
is a post-prandial passeggiata.
perfect, says her friend, and she adds
as they begin walking, i have a question
i've been wanting to run past you—
you've been painting for almost 12 years now, and writing
blog posts for all those years and now poetry as well.
when you look back at your body of work,
written and painted and drawn
and scribbled and collaged and wordsmithed,
and you look at the life you have lived making all of that,
what do you see and feel?
the poet-artist takes only a few steps
before she replies:
i remember in first grade having to color a mimeographed page
of circles with color words printed below them. you know, like
BROWN PURPLE GREEN, and so forth.
i began coloring, easy-peasy,
and then before i could even finish coloring
the second circle my teacher
walked by and told me i was coloring
the circles the wrong way--
the RIGHT way was to move my crayon round
and round and not
from side to side.
which i knew was just plain stupid.
the writing and painting and
drawing and scribbling and
collaging and wordsmithing i've done
for the past dozen years,
and the life i have lived making
all that art and all those poems
feels like i went back to the day
before
the mimeograph page landed on my desk
and shifted my body just one degree
in a different direction
and scribbled my way into the best
whole-arted life ever.
--dotty seiter
My last question for Dotty, and her response in poetry:
Aperitif - when you look back at your body of work,
written and painted/drawn/scribbled/collaged
and the life you have lived making all of that, what do you see and feel?
digestif
after yoga class, the poet-artist gives her friend
a ride home and her friend says, wanna join me for lunch?
sure!, she says, and they poke
around her kitchen and cobble together
what they decide to upgrade to a “luncheon," finding
a little of this and a little of that to fill the roles
of appetizer (tortilla chips), soup (tomato juice),
salad (celery sticks), main course (tuna sandwich),
and dessert (frozen thin mint cookies),
at which point her friend says with mock solemnity
and a faux haughty voice,
would you care for an aperitif?
uh, the poet-artist hesitates,
isn't the drink at the end
of a meal called a digestif ?
which hits their funny-bones
and sets them to laughing hilariously.
still laughing, the poet-artist stands up
and asserts, what do we care what it's called!,
i don't want a drink anyway,
best digestif to my way of thinking
is a post-prandial passeggiata.
perfect, says her friend, and she adds
as they begin walking, i have a question
i've been wanting to run past you—
you've been painting for almost 12 years now, and writing
blog posts for all those years and now poetry as well.
when you look back at your body of work,
written and painted and drawn
and scribbled and collaged and wordsmithed,
and you look at the life you have lived making all of that,
what do you see and feel?
the poet-artist takes only a few steps
before she replies:
i remember in first grade having to color a mimeographed page
of circles with color words printed below them. you know, like
BROWN PURPLE GREEN, and so forth.
i began coloring, easy-peasy,
and then before i could even finish coloring
the second circle my teacher
walked by and told me i was coloring
the circles the wrong way--
the RIGHT way was to move my crayon round
and round and not
from side to side.
which i knew was just plain stupid.
the writing and painting and
drawing and scribbling and
collaging and wordsmithing i've done
for the past dozen years,
and the life i have lived making
all that art and all those poems
feels like i went back to the day
before
the mimeograph page landed on my desk
and shifted my body just one degree
in a different direction
and scribbled my way into the best
whole-arted life ever.
--dotty seiter
And here is the final question from Dotty to me:
Position your hands to form a viewfinder, roughly fist sized; point it somewhere in your home—what is the/a story of what you see?
My viewfinder has been a camera lens since I was young.
Taking family photos (which I was seldom, if ever, in) was how I made a place for myself where I did not belong.
But, when you spend a lifetime taking photos, your internal viewfinder becomes well-honed.
Composition, light and shadow - now comfortable friends.
Over 58,000 photos are stored in my phone.
Another gajillion on my computer, in the cloud, on flash drives.
And yet, what I am most drawn to now are the faces around me - my husband, our dog, our crow family.
I belong here.
Position your hands to form a viewfinder, roughly fist sized; point it somewhere in your home—what is the/a story of what you see?
My viewfinder has been a camera lens since I was young.
Taking family photos (which I was seldom, if ever, in) was how I made a place for myself where I did not belong.
But, when you spend a lifetime taking photos, your internal viewfinder becomes well-honed.
Composition, light and shadow - now comfortable friends.
Over 58,000 photos are stored in my phone.
Another gajillion on my computer, in the cloud, on flash drives.
And yet, what I am most drawn to now are the faces around me - my husband, our dog, our crow family.
I belong here.
- Published on
The Mirror of Our Own Projections
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
The Mirror of Our Own Projections
oil on paper
18.5 x 18.5 inches
This item is unmounted and unframed.
(click on the image to purchase)
…for in the lifelong project of understanding ourselves, we are all reluctant visitors to the dusky and desolate haunts of our own nature, where shadows we do not want to meet dwell. But in any human association that has earned the right use the word love, we must be in relationship with both the light and the shadow in ourselves and each other. All authentic relationship is therefore a matter of clear sight — of seeing through the shining pane of the other’s self-concealment and removing the mirror of our own projections. - MARIA POPOVA
How to see others in a world of projection and shadow, self-concealment and desolate haunts - is there a manual for that?
I admit to struggling with this in recent days. My own humanity feels under attack. It becomes easier to be angry and reactive rather than contemplative and compassionate.
A big sigh.
A deep breath.
A pause.
And so we have come to the time of relationship with shadow. The shadow parts of ourselves growing monstrous as the light of the world dims, distorting our reflections. The elongated shadows of others make perceptions skewed. It is a funhouse out there, and therefore in here a bit, too.
Thank goodness for you, dear reader. For art, for books, for singing and for love. Sending big hugs to anyone who needs them. Thank you for being here. xo
I admit to struggling with this in recent days. My own humanity feels under attack. It becomes easier to be angry and reactive rather than contemplative and compassionate.
A big sigh.
A deep breath.
A pause.
And so we have come to the time of relationship with shadow. The shadow parts of ourselves growing monstrous as the light of the world dims, distorting our reflections. The elongated shadows of others make perceptions skewed. It is a funhouse out there, and therefore in here a bit, too.
Thank goodness for you, dear reader. For art, for books, for singing and for love. Sending big hugs to anyone who needs them. Thank you for being here. xo
About the art: This abstract is painted over top of a recently murdered portrait of the Queen of Hearts (see video for the beginning process). The underpainting provided a depth of color and texture to this piece which would have been difficult to attain without it. The new painting is a color play - deep saturation against light and bright.
the obliterated underpainting
And now it is time for the next exchange of questions with the incredibly talented Dotty Seiter!
My next question for Dotty:
Dessert - what is the sweetest, most decadent and delicious part of your creative life?
My next question for Dotty:
Dessert - what is the sweetest, most decadent and delicious part of your creative life?
dessert
dessert for the poet
as she walks rue saint-denis in montréal
is a mamie clafoutis oh mon dieu croissant,
a classic flaky buttery french pastry
filled with a substantial core
of rich chocolate ganache,
drizzled with dark chocolate and dusted
with confectioner's sugar.
dessert for the poet
as she listens to an audio novel while she walks
her own massachusetts neighborhood
is the italian word fermata,
a word new to her that might never have caught her ear
had she not had a nearly finished draft of a poem
awaiting final tweaks for which fermata becomes
its oh mon dieu croissant!
--dotty seiter
dessert for the poet
as she walks rue saint-denis in montréal
is a mamie clafoutis oh mon dieu croissant,
a classic flaky buttery french pastry
filled with a substantial core
of rich chocolate ganache,
drizzled with dark chocolate and dusted
with confectioner's sugar.
dessert for the poet
as she listens to an audio novel while she walks
her own massachusetts neighborhood
is the italian word fermata,
a word new to her that might never have caught her ear
had she not had a nearly finished draft of a poem
awaiting final tweaks for which fermata becomes
its oh mon dieu croissant!
--dotty seiter
And (out of order, because that's the way I roll), here's Dotty's question for me:
When and in what way did writing become a significant element in your life?
Really, I've always been a closeted creative writer, from grade school on. My banking career landed me squarely in concise, technical and analytical writing, which put out the creative fire for a couple of decades. Ugh! When I began painting, the words were a necessity - without them I did not fully inhabit the art. Rather, I kept it at arm's length by not infusing it with words.
Writing about the art is another trust fall, which I also gleefully do
I've been following the monks who are walking for peace, and find this so comforting at thiis time.
And so I leave you today with their words:
When peace, compassion, and loving-kindness shine in our hearts,
all the barriers that seemed to divide us simply dissolve--
and what remains is the beautiful truth we might have forgotten: we were never strangers,
only family and friends who hadn’t yet recognized each other.
May you and all beings be well, happy, and at peace.
And so I leave you today with their words:
When peace, compassion, and loving-kindness shine in our hearts,
all the barriers that seemed to divide us simply dissolve--
and what remains is the beautiful truth we might have forgotten: we were never strangers,
only family and friends who hadn’t yet recognized each other.
May you and all beings be well, happy, and at peace.
- Published on
The Game Breaks Down
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
The Game Breaks Down
oil on Yupo
12 x 19 inches (with a small border for framing)
This item is unmounted and unframed.
(click on the image to purchase)
If all those things -- trust, respect, etiquette -- stop functioning, the rules clash and the game breaks down. - Haruki Murakami, Killing Commendatore
Society depends on a number of thin strands of tenuous agreements. For example, I won't go around killing you and yours, and you won't kill me and mine. I won't steal your stuff and you will leave my stuff alone. People don't walk unannounced into each other's homes, kidnap them, lob grenades over fences, redecorate other people's houses and so forth. Well, generally they don't.
Or at least, in the past, it was a rare occurence.
But the gloves seem to be off in the world. Trust, respect, etiquette have stopped functioning at all in much of the online world and even in real life. I cannot count the number of times my eyebrows have raised at what people do not hesitate to do anymore. Including killing humans in boats and kidnapping leaders of other countries.
So to begin this year I am imagining a world where trust, respect, etiquette are cool again. Where we look upon each other with compassion and curiosity, seeking connection and cooperation instead of annihilation.
And with that thought, a couple of unluckly passengers in the pea green boat working together to cross the stormy seas.
But the gloves seem to be off in the world. Trust, respect, etiquette have stopped functioning at all in much of the online world and even in real life. I cannot count the number of times my eyebrows have raised at what people do not hesitate to do anymore. Including killing humans in boats and kidnapping leaders of other countries.
So to begin this year I am imagining a world where trust, respect, etiquette are cool again. Where we look upon each other with compassion and curiosity, seeking connection and cooperation instead of annihilation.
And with that thought, a couple of unluckly passengers in the pea green boat working together to cross the stormy seas.
About the art: beginning with a piece of gesso'd Yupo, I created a mask in the shape of the critters and boat and painted around them with a thin layer of background paint. I use the mask technique when my hands feel uncoordinated (hello, arthritis!) and I want to be sure to get the composition and placement just right. Once the initial background layer was dry, I worked exclusively on the characters first, building the layers and details from the heads and faces outward. Then the sail and moon, then the boat. While those layers dried, more pinks and plums in the sky and movement in the sea. A final layer of detail on the characters and the boat, and one more layer on the background. After a couple weeks of thorough drying, a final layer of varnish over the whole shebang to really make the colors pop.
The Question Exchange with the amazing Dotty Seiter continues!
Here is my question number three for Dotty, and her gobsmackingly gorgeous response:
Main Course - if creating was a main course (a sandwich, even!), what would it be and why?
piatto principale
the main course of creating,
according to my poet/artist
friend's way of thinking,
is not a particular meal or dish but,
instead,
an actual course--
a flow,
a pathway,
a series of illuminating
moments,
an alchemy,
a transcendence,
a transformation,
a lived experience highly
sensory and immediate,
a space outside of time and place,
a threshold consciousness
with which she becomes one,
inhabiting it as it inhabits her,
animated by
generative energy
and invigorating tension
that resolve at the intersection
of process and product
no matter the process,
no matter the product.
in other words,
not beef wellington,
not quiche lorraine,
not shrimp diavolo,
but a life force
that sustains her from the outside in
and the inside out.
buon appetito!
--dotty seiter
Here is my question number three for Dotty, and her gobsmackingly gorgeous response:
Main Course - if creating was a main course (a sandwich, even!), what would it be and why?
piatto principale
the main course of creating,
according to my poet/artist
friend's way of thinking,
is not a particular meal or dish but,
instead,
an actual course--
a flow,
a pathway,
a series of illuminating
moments,
an alchemy,
a transcendence,
a transformation,
a lived experience highly
sensory and immediate,
a space outside of time and place,
a threshold consciousness
with which she becomes one,
inhabiting it as it inhabits her,
animated by
generative energy
and invigorating tension
that resolve at the intersection
of process and product
no matter the process,
no matter the product.
in other words,
not beef wellington,
not quiche lorraine,
not shrimp diavolo,
but a life force
that sustains her from the outside in
and the inside out.
buon appetito!
--dotty seiter
And here is Dotty's third question for me,
along with my response in art:
What can you tell me about painting from feeling?
For this one, an image says it pretty well!
A leap off a cliff, a trust fall, but I do it gleefully.
While Dotty and I continue our Question Exchange over the coming weeks, a new winner and a new exchange will begin! Congratulations to Diana D. - you're the winner of the December Reader Giveaway! Huzzah! Send a message to me at thewanderingsoflola@gmail.com and let me know what method of exchange works best for you. I am looking forward to it!
Many thanks to all who have read, viewed and listened to the Question Exchanges over the last couple of months. Upon reflection, I am certain I personally feel enriched beyond expectation by the entire process! Anyone who is interested in participating in a future exchange please reach out to me at thewanderingsoflola@gmail.com and I'll gladly leap into it with you!
For now, blog comments will be just that - comments! Thank you for them! Your readership and participation make this whole blog space sparkly and so very rewarding! xo
Many thanks to all who have read, viewed and listened to the Question Exchanges over the last couple of months. Upon reflection, I am certain I personally feel enriched beyond expectation by the entire process! Anyone who is interested in participating in a future exchange please reach out to me at thewanderingsoflola@gmail.com and I'll gladly leap into it with you!
For now, blog comments will be just that - comments! Thank you for them! Your readership and participation make this whole blog space sparkly and so very rewarding! xo
- Published on
We Swim Amid Particles
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
We Swim Amid Particles
oil on Yupo
12 x 19.5 inches
This item is unmounted and unframed
(click on the image to purchase)
And meanwhile,
up here,
we swim amid particles
we cannot perceive
folded into dimensions
we cannot imagine
to tell stories about
what is real and
what is possible,
and what it means to be.
- MARIA POPOVA
And just like that, we're here at the end of a year.
A year of telling stories and of trying to figure out what it means to be.
It is tempting to count the blog posts, the paintings, the canvases shipped and the ones remaining, the comments, the followers, the reposts and shares. It is tempting to tease out what the counts actually mean, what stories they tell.
And yet.
That is the way I used to be (data-driven and quantified) and I cannot now be entirely that anymore.
Instead, I pause and notice what I am thinking now, how I am feeling, whether I am energized or exhausted, inspired or depleted, engaged or withdrawn. How does it feel at the end of a year? All the information I need is right there.
And yet.
That is the way I used to be (data-driven and quantified) and I cannot now be entirely that anymore.
Instead, I pause and notice what I am thinking now, how I am feeling, whether I am energized or exhausted, inspired or depleted, engaged or withdrawn. How does it feel at the end of a year? All the information I need is right there.
It is more difficult for me to check in than to measure. More challenging to probe and question than to analyze. But there is gold in them thar hills, and I am excited to go looking for it. I put one foot in the river and smile. Despite the whole world seeming to run amok with madness and mayhem, what is real, what is possible here in this very moment is good. Very, very good.
I am curious - do you have end of year practices in your world?
I am curious - do you have end of year practices in your world?
A little animated malarkey for your enjoyment!
About the art: another dive into the Sea of Shenanigans in the SS Malarkey, this time with Rocky the Crow. Rocky insisted on a fancier boat than the others, with a full crew below deck. Beginning with a piece of gesso'd Yupo, I drew the figure and boat loosely with a brush. Working from the outside-in to refine the figure and begin to tease out an abstracted sky and sea by using washes of light, neutral colors. A long drying time. Then building layers on crow and boat, taking time to develop the darks and lights. Wet into wet, then a drying time and wet onto dry. More layers for the background colors and then the background and sea darks - layer after layer until the drama appeared. More drying, then a layer of varnish to protect the paint and to make all the darks pop even more. Ta-da! One happy corvid on his tiny fancy boat.
And now it's time to continue the Question Exchange with the inspirational artist and writer Dotty Seiter! First up, my second question for Dotty and her answer in poetry form.
2. now that you’re there, how do you usually begin, and is just beginning sometimes enough?
=====soup and salad
gotta say, i never tire of watching
my friend who writes
poems and makes art.
here she is in soup-and-salad mode
in her creative space, no recipe i can see,
no mise en place.
she just grabs whatever might
serve her rough "plan" and begins
with a turn of phrase,
then maybe a simile. if she can't
recall a word she wants,
well, too bad, she uses a different one,
keeps tasting and adding to
the soup pot
as she creates;
anything goes.
same with the salad bowl,
she tosses in a bit of linework, a
brushstroke of color, making
occasional slight adjustments, and
mostly plays like a child
on a playgound, running
with giddy freedom from
one thing to the next.
if something barely begun
tastes great, she calls it done.
if bright flavors and
pleasing combos build happily, but
she runs short of time or ingredients,
no worries—she puts everything
under refrigeration, returns
later, resumes tossing and tasting.
leaves me breathless, i tell you,
leaves me hankering
for the main course.
—dotty seiter
=====soup and salad
gotta say, i never tire of watching
my friend who writes
poems and makes art.
here she is in soup-and-salad mode
in her creative space, no recipe i can see,
no mise en place.
she just grabs whatever might
serve her rough "plan" and begins
with a turn of phrase,
then maybe a simile. if she can't
recall a word she wants,
well, too bad, she uses a different one,
keeps tasting and adding to
the soup pot
as she creates;
anything goes.
same with the salad bowl,
she tosses in a bit of linework, a
brushstroke of color, making
occasional slight adjustments, and
mostly plays like a child
on a playgound, running
with giddy freedom from
one thing to the next.
if something barely begun
tastes great, she calls it done.
if bright flavors and
pleasing combos build happily, but
she runs short of time or ingredients,
no worries—she puts everything
under refrigeration, returns
later, resumes tossing and tasting.
leaves me breathless, i tell you,
leaves me hankering
for the main course.
—dotty seiter
Get to know Dotty, her art, her dazzling writing and her rhythmic creativity at dottyseiter.com
Dotty's second question for me, and my answer in art (with words to further elucidate).
2. What are the general rhythms of your day—what does the weave of art (all of it, the whole business) look like in the big picture of any given day?
A cloud of thoughts and feelings.
A canvas; each day shaped with limitations, this many hours, this list of “must do’s”, a loose idea of “want to’s”.
Here are the tools I have (energy, inspiration, motivation, skill).
An underpainting of movement, nourishment, rest, love.
Broad strokes of outline; refined, covered over, re-applied, embraced or abandoned.
A pause, a step back, a review. What more? What less?
COLOR! LINE! TEXTURE! VALUE! Precision, abstraction, frivolity, somberness.
A nap.
Rest, reflect, look and savor.
Begin again.
A cloud of thoughts and feelings.
A canvas; each day shaped with limitations, this many hours, this list of “must do’s”, a loose idea of “want to’s”.
Here are the tools I have (energy, inspiration, motivation, skill).
An underpainting of movement, nourishment, rest, love.
Broad strokes of outline; refined, covered over, re-applied, embraced or abandoned.
A pause, a step back, a review. What more? What less?
COLOR! LINE! TEXTURE! VALUE! Precision, abstraction, frivolity, somberness.
A nap.
Rest, reflect, look and savor.
Begin again.
Thank you to everyone who followed this blog along its journey in 2025! Your comments, emails, texts, messages and letters are a source of joy and wonderment to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Leave a comment to be automatically entered to win the final Reader Giveaway of 2025! Someone will win a Question Exchange of their own, in the format they prefer, to be revealed in 2026. Ready? Set? GO!
Leave a comment to be automatically entered to win the final Reader Giveaway of 2025! Someone will win a Question Exchange of their own, in the format they prefer, to be revealed in 2026. Ready? Set? GO!
- Published on
Messy and Marvelous
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
Messy and Marvelous
oil on cradled wood panel
14 x 11 x .75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang
(click on the image to purchase)
It cannot be always comfortable.
So love the thousand knives as they enter
and see your shape still sitting.
See that you too belong to paws
of soft silent hungers, to thirst-tangled
roots, to silver-spun constellations.
Know you’re no sicker than the rest of us.
The big secret is this: No one else can brave you.
Messy, yes. And marvelous. - Rachel Hébert
Life is a little uncomforable right now in the world. We are challenged each day to process societal changes we may never have imagined in our lifetime.
For each of us, this cannot help but become a very personal examination - what does this mean for me? For those around me? For my neighborhood, for my city? What does it mean for my mental and emotional health and for my physical wellbeing?
We are, each one of us, messy and marvelous. The spotlight seems to be on the messy part right now. And so we hone our investigations to focus on the beauty, the kindness, the tenderness and the hope. Yep, there are still the thousand knives poking and prickling and prodding. We are still here, still sitting, still marvelous.
We are, each one of us, messy and marvelous. The spotlight seems to be on the messy part right now. And so we hone our investigations to focus on the beauty, the kindness, the tenderness and the hope. Yep, there are still the thousand knives poking and prickling and prodding. We are still here, still sitting, still marvelous.
About the art: inspired by misty views as I walk across the bridge toward the city in the morning. I began with a gesso'd wood panel and drew a rough geometric composition in pencil. A wash of darks across the center line and a wash of lights across sky and water. Rough dabs of treeness and building-ness draaaaaaaaagged with a rubber wedge up and down, side to side. Resisting the urge to define. Allowing the shapes to be blurred as they were in the fog and mist, a paper towel to smudge them some more. A final coat of varnish to seal the deal.
The first installment of a Question Exchange with Dotty S, who brilliantly suggested using poetry for her answers, which prompted me to create art in conjunction with my answers! Out of the box and out of this world! Here was my first question for Dotty, with her response following:
An invitation to dine.
I find myself wondering what it would be like if we sat down and had a meal together - just a casual, long lunch between friends. And so, here is the menu!
Appetizers - what whets your appetite for writing and painting, makes you want to go there, do that?
An invitation to dine.
I find myself wondering what it would be like if we sat down and had a meal together - just a casual, long lunch between friends. And so, here is the menu!
Appetizers - what whets your appetite for writing and painting, makes you want to go there, do that?
appetizers
the everyday no-nonsense part
of a particular artist i know
leans toward eat-to-live
rather than live-to eat.
this gal, god love her,
doesn't snack,
rarely nibbles while she preps food,
is disinclined to have any kind of happy hour
where she sits out on the back deck
before a meal to whet her appetite
with crackers or cheese or chips or hummus
or crudités or hard cider.
she'd sooner take a walk than eat a snack,
sooner have her fill at the table than at the stove,
sooner read than partake before dinner.
however, the part of her that shows up
to write poems and paint? that gal has a
different story altogether! she is all about
snacks, always has an eye out for
appetizers, is not shy whatsoever
about loading up
the cocktail plate she carries
at all times in her pocket,
cannot curb the gusto
with which her hungry
self reaches for starters!
a sliver of shadow? she begins salivating.
canapés of calendula and coreopsis? she grabs a handful.
an amuse-bouche of seeing her neighbor watering her garden
on a summer morning? pass her the recipe.
an hors d'oeuvre of grief? she's unafraid to roll it around
on her tongue to explore its depth of bittersweet.
an antipasto of kandinsky concentric circles? bring on the hot sauce.
consider yourself forewarned:
when she starts noshing,
do not get in her way.
--dotty seiter
the everyday no-nonsense part
of a particular artist i know
leans toward eat-to-live
rather than live-to eat.
this gal, god love her,
doesn't snack,
rarely nibbles while she preps food,
is disinclined to have any kind of happy hour
where she sits out on the back deck
before a meal to whet her appetite
with crackers or cheese or chips or hummus
or crudités or hard cider.
she'd sooner take a walk than eat a snack,
sooner have her fill at the table than at the stove,
sooner read than partake before dinner.
however, the part of her that shows up
to write poems and paint? that gal has a
different story altogether! she is all about
snacks, always has an eye out for
appetizers, is not shy whatsoever
about loading up
the cocktail plate she carries
at all times in her pocket,
cannot curb the gusto
with which her hungry
self reaches for starters!
a sliver of shadow? she begins salivating.
canapés of calendula and coreopsis? she grabs a handful.
an amuse-bouche of seeing her neighbor watering her garden
on a summer morning? pass her the recipe.
an hors d'oeuvre of grief? she's unafraid to roll it around
on her tongue to explore its depth of bittersweet.
an antipasto of kandinsky concentric circles? bring on the hot sauce.
consider yourself forewarned:
when she starts noshing,
do not get in her way.
--dotty seiter
Dotty's first question for me was:
what is the origin story for your life as an artist?
What is the origin story for my life as an artist?
It began with a banishment.
For 50 years, I ran from the art police. In a moment of frustration (and likely inebriation), my mother banned me from art as a child. Untalented. A mess! Don't ever go near art!
I never questioned it. Sure, I knitted scarves, played musical instruments, wrote short stories and poems, hooked rugs, made jewelry...but it wasn't ever art. Just crafts
When I was 50, while working an overnight shift unloading trucks to make extra money, one of my co-workers invited me to an art journaling class she was teaching. I looked at her quite seriously and said sorry, I can't. I've been banished from art. And she laughed. And laughed. And laughed! She told me a person actually could not be banished from art, and insisted I go.
I did.
And I never looked back.
what is the origin story for your life as an artist?
What is the origin story for my life as an artist?
It began with a banishment.
For 50 years, I ran from the art police. In a moment of frustration (and likely inebriation), my mother banned me from art as a child. Untalented. A mess! Don't ever go near art!
I never questioned it. Sure, I knitted scarves, played musical instruments, wrote short stories and poems, hooked rugs, made jewelry...but it wasn't ever art. Just crafts
When I was 50, while working an overnight shift unloading trucks to make extra money, one of my co-workers invited me to an art journaling class she was teaching. I looked at her quite seriously and said sorry, I can't. I've been banished from art. And she laughed. And laughed. And laughed! She told me a person actually could not be banished from art, and insisted I go.
I did.
And I never looked back.
The December Reader Giveaway continues! Leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered. One lucky commenter will win their own Question Exchange, to be defined in the way which suits them best! I can hardly wait! xo
- Published on
The Rivers Kept Speaking
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
The Rivers Kept Speaking
oil on gallery wrapped canvas
36 x 36 x 1.5 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang
(click on the image to purchase)
On the fifth day
the scientists who studied the rivers
were forbidden to speak
or to study the rivers.
The scientists who studied the air
were told not to speak of the air,
and the ones who worked for the farmers
were silenced,
and the ones who worked for the bees.
Someone, from deep in the Badlands,
began posting facts.
The facts were told not to speak
and were taken away.
The facts, surprised to be taken, were silent.
Now it was only the rivers
that spoke of the rivers,
and only the wind that spoke of its bees,
while the unpausing factual buds of the fruit trees
continued to move toward their fruit.
The silence spoke loudly of silence,
and the rivers kept speaking
of rivers, of boulders and air.
Bound to gravity, earless and tongueless,
the untested rivers kept speaking.
Bus drivers, shelf stockers,
code writers, machinists, accountants,
lab techs, cellists kept speaking.
They spoke, the fifth day,
of silence. - JANE HIRSHFIELD
I am becoming increasingly dismayed by the erasure of facts.
The annihilation of evidence.
The replacement of truth.
It's up in my craw, twisting my britches and ruffling my feathers.
Much of my life has been filled with gaslighters, manipulators and the attempted obliteration of Lola.
And so, these larger trends in the world feel deeply personal and prickly.
One day at a time. Holding fast to what I know to be true,
I stay the course down the river, which keeps speaking of rivers.
The annihilation of evidence.
The replacement of truth.
It's up in my craw, twisting my britches and ruffling my feathers.
Much of my life has been filled with gaslighters, manipulators and the attempted obliteration of Lola.
And so, these larger trends in the world feel deeply personal and prickly.
One day at a time. Holding fast to what I know to be true,
I stay the course down the river, which keeps speaking of rivers.
About the art: a paint over of a much older acrylic piece (image follows). I began this one in August, slowly painting over in layers of washes, building the composition and allowing small parts of the original painting to peek through. Much of the new piece was painted wet-into wet with long drying times in between to preserve the developed layers.
While we were hiking in California this fall, we hiked along a wide, brisk, rolling, tumbling river. And so when a river of sorts appeared in the paint upon our return, I embraced it. A brighter, more modern painting than the original and somewhat symbolizing transformation and hope, the truth-speaking of the rivers. :)
While we were hiking in California this fall, we hiked along a wide, brisk, rolling, tumbling river. And so when a river of sorts appeared in the paint upon our return, I embraced it. A brighter, more modern painting than the original and somewhat symbolizing transformation and hope, the truth-speaking of the rivers. :)
The underpainting - an acrylic abstract
Thanks so much for all the comments, emails messages and feeback about the Question Exchange series on YouTube! I'm just delighted! The exchange with November winner Dotty S is underway (and is going to be something out of the box!). In the meantime, the December Giveaway is ON! Leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered!
- Published on
Into The Mystic
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
Into The Mystic
oil on copper panel
12 x 12 inches
This item is unframed
(click on the image to purchase)
Hark, now hear the sailors cry,
Smell the sea, and feel the sky,
Let your soul & spirit fly, into the mystic.
- Into the Mystic - VAN MORRISON
How long can an artist remain lost at sea? This theme of the beautiful pea green (or mint green or teal or or or) boat continues to enchant and inspire me! This week we have another solo explorer - Wonder Mike! He wanted to be the captain of his own ship and so off he goes.
The longer I live in the Pacific Northwest, near both mountains and ocean, the more I notice my deep craving to get out into it - to smell the sea and. feel the sky. This time of year it isn't as easy, what with the deluge from above day after day. But I can let my soul and spirit fly into the paint, into the words, into music and books and grand imaginings. Now and then, when the rain breaks for a moment, my feet can walk the forest path or the rocky shoreline, lost in the mist and chill and terrain, the smell and taste and feel of all that gray (blue-gray, green-gray, gray-brown, soft gray, light gray, dark gray, medium gray, opaque and translucent gray).
I feel reinvigorated just describing it. Oh yes.
The longer I live in the Pacific Northwest, near both mountains and ocean, the more I notice my deep craving to get out into it - to smell the sea and. feel the sky. This time of year it isn't as easy, what with the deluge from above day after day. But I can let my soul and spirit fly into the paint, into the words, into music and books and grand imaginings. Now and then, when the rain breaks for a moment, my feet can walk the forest path or the rocky shoreline, lost in the mist and chill and terrain, the smell and taste and feel of all that gray (blue-gray, green-gray, gray-brown, soft gray, light gray, dark gray, medium gray, opaque and translucent gray).
I feel reinvigorated just describing it. Oh yes.
Bonus Malarkey! A little animation of a recent pen and ink drawing, just for fun.
Here's the link to this video on YouTube
About the art: this piece is painted over an epic failed painting on copper panel. The beauty of the paint-over is all that delicious added texture! I covered the original piece with a thick layer of neutral colored oil paint and let it dry throughly, then sketched the main character and boat with a mid-sized brush and thinned oil paint. Working outside-in to refine the shapes, then inside-out to build layers on the dog and the boat. The background was completed last, using thick layers of paint and alternating between brush and palette knife. Voila!
Here are the final two installements of the Question Exchange with the amazing Carl Stoveland! Take a look/listen and please let me know what you think, either by commenting on YouTube or here in the blog.
Last month's winner had a masterful idea of how to ask each other five questions in a most creative way - I can hardly wait to share the results! In the meantime, leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered in the December Reader Giveaway. I've got questions! Maybe you do, too?
Last month's winner had a masterful idea of how to ask each other five questions in a most creative way - I can hardly wait to share the results! In the meantime, leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered in the December Reader Giveaway. I've got questions! Maybe you do, too?
- Published on
Adrift
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
Adrift
oil on canvas paper
11 x 17 inches
This item is unmounted and unframed
(click on the image to purchase)
To my mind, voyaging through wildernesses, be they full of woods or waves, is essential to the growth and maturity of the human spirit. It is in the wilderness that you really learn who you are. It is in facing the challenges of the wilderness that the thickness of your wallet becomes irrelevant and your capabilities become the truer measure of your value.
― Steven Callahan, Adrift: Seventy-Six Days Lost at Sea
Here at Malarkey Central, we're continuing our voyage on the Sea of Shenanigans in the SS Malarkey, otherwise known as the beautiful pea green boat.
And guess who is on the high seas today? Yep, it's Pippi. Our intrepid adventurer is back once more, this time venturing out on her own to see what she can see. She's not lonely, our Pippi, as her imagination and curiosity keep her company everywhere she goes.
For many of us, solitude is welcome. A time to recharge, a place to be quiet (or loud - I hear all you screamers and singers and self-talkers!) and to exhale all expectations and responsbilities. For others, being alone is, well, lonely.
Much of my life, I have been most lonely in the company of others, and never really lonely by myself. Introversion has a lot to do with that, but it is also not being seen or heard by others. And that is something we can do in the world, you and I, to help ease loneliness. Especially during this season. We can see and hear those who need to be seen and heard. Now off you go, and me as well.
For many of us, solitude is welcome. A time to recharge, a place to be quiet (or loud - I hear all you screamers and singers and self-talkers!) and to exhale all expectations and responsbilities. For others, being alone is, well, lonely.
Much of my life, I have been most lonely in the company of others, and never really lonely by myself. Introversion has a lot to do with that, but it is also not being seen or heard by others. And that is something we can do in the world, you and I, to help ease loneliness. Especially during this season. We can see and hear those who need to be seen and heard. Now off you go, and me as well.
About the art: beginning with a gesso'd piece of canvas paper, I sketched the figure, sail and boat roughly with thinned oil paint. For this piece, it was important to resist adding too many colors - shades of green, this one, with a bit of blue in the background. Pippi stands out because of her hair and skin tones, which were developed over many layers. Canvas paper wants a lot of layers to build deep colors, and this one was no exception. There is a point, however, where the piece crosses from "needs more" to "ooooooooh la la!" I didn't always know that, and abandoned paintings too soon in the past as a result. But not this one! Pippi kept encouraging me, as she does. Yay.
The next two videos from last month's Question Exchange with Carl Stoveland are up and ready! Take a look/listen and I'd love to hear your feedback. Two more episodes will post next week, and then we're on to the next winner, who is (drum roll please) - Dotty S! Congratulations! Send an email to thewanderingsoflola@gmail.com and let me know your preferred communication method and availability! I can hardly wait!
A new reader giveaway begins today! Leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered. And thanks a bunch to all who read, listen, comment and share this blog. You make this artist's world extra marvelous! xo
A new reader giveaway begins today! Leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered. And thanks a bunch to all who read, listen, comment and share this blog. You make this artist's world extra marvelous! xo
- Published on
Our Friendship Is Quite Unique
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
Our Friendship Is Quite Unique
oil on canvas paper
11 x 17 inches
This item is unmounted and unframed
(click on the image to purchase
We take it in turns to play 'attack',
While the other rolls onto their back.
To him I've the strength of a flea,
But I'm sure he'd never hurt me.
No harm comes from tooth or beak,
Our friendship is quite unique.
We're a shining example of how kin,
May each wear a very different skin. - from Two Unlikely Friends by STEPHEN KATONA
More travellers in the SS Malarkey sailing across the Sea of Shenanigans as I spend this month exploring the theme of the beautiful pea-green boat.
As the poem says, we may each wear a very different skin and yet we are still in the same boat, on the same sea, in the same world. There was a heart-melting story of this very thing on the Oregon coast last week.
A juvenile humpback whale was beached in a tangle of crab pot line. Humans gathered in droves in the dark, the cold, the waves and the sand and pushed, pulled, comforted, and encouraged the whale. All night, all the next day, and more nights and days following. They did not hesitate to risk their own comfort and safety to help this beings who was so different from themselves.
As the poem says, we may each wear a very different skin and yet we are still in the same boat, on the same sea, in the same world. There was a heart-melting story of this very thing on the Oregon coast last week.
A juvenile humpback whale was beached in a tangle of crab pot line. Humans gathered in droves in the dark, the cold, the waves and the sand and pushed, pulled, comforted, and encouraged the whale. All night, all the next day, and more nights and days following. They did not hesitate to risk their own comfort and safety to help this beings who was so different from themselves.
Veterinarians administered vitamins, hydration and valium to support the whale. Experts and volunteers worked together in a herculean effort to save it, with the whale blowing and making sounds throughout. With each report and video, I cried. I admit to being teary as I write these words.
The people's heroic efforts ultimately failed to save the giant, and local tribes appeared on site afterward to reverently handle the remains. I like to think those final days for the whale were as good as they could have been, in the hands of loving, determined and compassionate humans. And for me personally, this story of helping someone who wears a very different skin touched me to the core.
The people's heroic efforts ultimately failed to save the giant, and local tribes appeared on site afterward to reverently handle the remains. I like to think those final days for the whale were as good as they could have been, in the hands of loving, determined and compassionate humans. And for me personally, this story of helping someone who wears a very different skin touched me to the core.
About the art: beginning with a piece of canvas paper gesso'd in white, I sketched the figure outline roughly with a brush laden with thinned oil paint. Working outside-in first, adding a first layer of background paint and using it to refine the sketch. Then the faces of our star duo, followed by the boat. Coming back in for the bodies. A long drying time. Repeating the outside-in and inside-out building of layers, darkening the darks, making the shadows more moody, then the highlights on bodies and heads. This pair makes me smile BIG! That talon of the eagle resting on the pooch's behind - affection or instinctive grasping? A reminder they are friends, but also predator and prey.
The November Reader Giveaway is in full swing! Leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered to win a Question Exchange between thee and me!
Last month's winner was artist/photographer/teacher/podcaster and blogger
Carl Stoveland, and we had a blast diving into some deep questions. Here is Part One of our hour-long conversation. Parts Two-Five will be posted over the next couple of weeks. Take a look! And I would love to hear your feedback.
Leave a comment below!
Last month's winner was artist/photographer/teacher/podcaster and blogger
Carl Stoveland, and we had a blast diving into some deep questions. Here is Part One of our hour-long conversation. Parts Two-Five will be posted over the next couple of weeks. Take a look! And I would love to hear your feedback.
Leave a comment below!
The once-a-year
gesso madness
murder-your-darlings sale
ends Saturday, November 29th!
Grab your favorites!
Click on the Santa to shop.
(and thanks hugely to all who have already rescued art
from the gesso monster! I am so delighted!)
- Published on
Pelican and Panda Went To Sea
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
Pelican and Panda Went To Sea
oil on paper
16 x 20.5 inches
This item is unmounted and unframed
(click on the image to purchase)
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
- EDWARD LEAR
Here we are, on the shore of the sea of shenanigans, ready to row our way across in a boat called The Malarkey. And what fine companions we have on this seafaring day!
The world we're living in has me thinking of the beautiful pea-green boat.
We're all in the boat together, after all. We're all downstream from someone and upstream from another. We share air, sky, water and land. We share sunshine and moonlight and wind and rain. I believe there is enough for all, if only humans would share. Which, apparently, we do not. Well, some humans don't share.
And so.
Need a penny, take a penny. Have a penny, leave one. A simple thought, easy to do. If your cupboard has extra, share it with a bare cupboard. If your wallet is full, pass some moolah to an empty purse. And if your boat has room, maybe let someone on board.
We're all in the boat together, after all. We're all downstream from someone and upstream from another. We share air, sky, water and land. We share sunshine and moonlight and wind and rain. I believe there is enough for all, if only humans would share. Which, apparently, we do not. Well, some humans don't share.
And so.
Need a penny, take a penny. Have a penny, leave one. A simple thought, easy to do. If your cupboard has extra, share it with a bare cupboard. If your wallet is full, pass some moolah to an empty purse. And if your boat has room, maybe let someone on board.
And if your heart has the capacity to love more (safely, of course) then spread some love around. Because if Pelican and Panda can figure it out, so can we.
Now, I'm heading out to sea in The Malarkey. Want to join me?
Now, I'm heading out to sea in The Malarkey. Want to join me?
About the art: This painting is the first in a series inspired by Lear's poem. Beginning with an old acrylic abstract painting on paper covered with a thin coat of gesso (the underpainting adds a lovely texture to this piece), then roughing in the central figures with thinned paint and a wide brush. Working next from the outside in, using the background paint to refine the figure shapes. A long drying time. Then the details of the faces, boat shape and sail. Many subsequent thinned layers to create shadows and dimension. Another coat for the background, using a rubber wedge to create motion in the sea by draaaaaagging the paint around. Alternating darks and lights until the saturation reached my satisfaction, then another long drying time followed by a coat of varnish.
The ONCE-A-YEAR GESSO MADNESS MURDER-YOUR-DARLINGS SALE begins today! Click HERE to grab your favorites!
Note: this website limits the shopping cart to ONE piece per transaction. If you wish to buy more than one, please checkout separately for each piece. Any shipping overage will be refunded! Thank you!
The November Reader Giveaway continues the social experiment of a Questions Exchange - five questions each (thee and me!) asked and answered. Leave a comment on any blog post this. month to be automatically entered (and thanks to reader Trina T. for this suggestion!)
The first winner is artist/photographer/teacher/podcaster/blogger and friend Carl Stoveland. And WOW did we ever have FUN! I'll publish segments of our hour-long interview over the next several weeks, as there are many treasures to be revealed! But first off, here's a little introduction from each of us, just to give a little taste of what's coming.
The first winner is artist/photographer/teacher/podcaster/blogger and friend Carl Stoveland. And WOW did we ever have FUN! I'll publish segments of our hour-long interview over the next several weeks, as there are many treasures to be revealed! But first off, here's a little introduction from each of us, just to give a little taste of what's coming.
