- Published on
Elektra
"Elektra" - mixed media on gallery wrapped canvas, 30" x 40" x 1.5". Ready to hang (back has been wired for hanging). Available here and at Artfinder.
Holy portraiture, batman! Where did this one come from?
She began as an abstract...which I looked at and dabbled with and turned around and around for a week or more. Then a scribbled line figure, a pop art type of girl and then she became THIS. She's a big beauty, dominating the studio right now. A woman of mystery, a damsel of depth, a siren. I hope you see what I see in her, because I had to throw my inner critic out the window to create this one, and sometimes that means I haven't a clue if something is actually any good at all.
Elektra means amber, shining, incandescent. And so we are, we humans. Shining and incandescent when sitting firmly in the pocket of our truth, our passion, our joy. And I happen to know a real life Amber, who is shining and incandescent in the world. Art imitating life.
Holy portraiture, batman! Where did this one come from?
She began as an abstract...which I looked at and dabbled with and turned around and around for a week or more. Then a scribbled line figure, a pop art type of girl and then she became THIS. She's a big beauty, dominating the studio right now. A woman of mystery, a damsel of depth, a siren. I hope you see what I see in her, because I had to throw my inner critic out the window to create this one, and sometimes that means I haven't a clue if something is actually any good at all.
Elektra means amber, shining, incandescent. And so we are, we humans. Shining and incandescent when sitting firmly in the pocket of our truth, our passion, our joy. And I happen to know a real life Amber, who is shining and incandescent in the world. Art imitating life.
And following the breadcrumb trail that leads to art, there is also a stunning character named Elektra in the FX series Pose, which is depicts the underground ball culture of New York in the 1980's, and has the largest cast of transgender actors ever. There is something powerful and mesmerizing about those actors, those characters, those scenes...somehow they manage to portray the fiercely feminine in a way that leaves my inner queen weeping with "aha"moments. They are also shining and incandescent.
As Leo season begins (and my home is Leo land this summer, with two lions prowling the grounds and demanding fealty), Elektra is an embodiment of leonine energy - which also happens to be (you guessed it) shining and incandescent. Let's don our finest apparel (or, like Elektra, wear none at all) and strike a pose, dear reader! You are a shining star, glowing in the summer heat, oozing confidence and commanding the room, setting it alight with your own spectacular incandescence.
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"Tumbling Down" - acrylic and watercolor on paper, 22" x 22". Ready to frame. Available here and at Artfinder.
This week in the studio, a return to abstracted landscapes and a large version of a prior watercolor study. I think there will be one more iteration of this piece, but even more abstracted. As wildfire season ramps up here in the PNW, I am feeling the heat of these reds, oranges and magentas. A little iced tea, anyone?
When you take a drive through the Columbia Valley River Gorge just outside of Portland, there are waterfalls of all different sizes trickling (or bustling or crashing) down cliff walls - tiny avalanches of water which seem to emerge from cracks in the earth.
This week in the studio, a return to abstracted landscapes and a large version of a prior watercolor study. I think there will be one more iteration of this piece, but even more abstracted. As wildfire season ramps up here in the PNW, I am feeling the heat of these reds, oranges and magentas. A little iced tea, anyone?
When you take a drive through the Columbia Valley River Gorge just outside of Portland, there are waterfalls of all different sizes trickling (or bustling or crashing) down cliff walls - tiny avalanches of water which seem to emerge from cracks in the earth.
Tumbling Down
Cracks seem to attract every little thing. Water, for sure, but weeds, tree roots, litter, rubble. A stroll through our urban neighborhood, steeped with deeply fissured sidewalks and rumbled asphalt, reveals little microcosms of vegetation and whatnots building tiny towns within every nook.
Mark Nepo has an entire chapter, called "Reading the Cracks", nestled in The One Life We're Given. Instead of reading tea leaves or fractured sidewalks, he writes about reading the cracks that life opens. I'm guessing you have a few cracks opened in your life, being human and all. Whether it's a tiny fracture or an earthquake, you might have noticed how those cracks (which we might, at times, call a cruel avalanche of unfairness - Nepo) are the very place where the light gets in. And being curious creatures, we try to read the cracks and make sense of what comes through.
If you're like me, you might have been working hard all of your life to mortar those cracks, harden your shell and keep things out. But humans aren't sidewalks or roads. It's hard to see truth or beauty without letting the light in. Nepo challenges us with this: As you walk down [the] street, look for the cracks in your walls that will let your Spirit out. This may appear as a moment when your guard is down and you feel vulnerable. Or when a moment of nature slips through a crack in your worry. Notice how you feel in the moment of being cracked open.
Now this is not the same as being cracked up, a crack-pot, or full of craic (you Irish readers). And most definitely not the same as being a crack-head! Perhaps it is ok, and maybe even good, to be cracked open. I will ponder this with a bowl of pistachios, and call it "cracking meditation." :)
Mark Nepo has an entire chapter, called "Reading the Cracks", nestled in The One Life We're Given. Instead of reading tea leaves or fractured sidewalks, he writes about reading the cracks that life opens. I'm guessing you have a few cracks opened in your life, being human and all. Whether it's a tiny fracture or an earthquake, you might have noticed how those cracks (which we might, at times, call a cruel avalanche of unfairness - Nepo) are the very place where the light gets in. And being curious creatures, we try to read the cracks and make sense of what comes through.
If you're like me, you might have been working hard all of your life to mortar those cracks, harden your shell and keep things out. But humans aren't sidewalks or roads. It's hard to see truth or beauty without letting the light in. Nepo challenges us with this: As you walk down [the] street, look for the cracks in your walls that will let your Spirit out. This may appear as a moment when your guard is down and you feel vulnerable. Or when a moment of nature slips through a crack in your worry. Notice how you feel in the moment of being cracked open.
Now this is not the same as being cracked up, a crack-pot, or full of craic (you Irish readers). And most definitely not the same as being a crack-head! Perhaps it is ok, and maybe even good, to be cracked open. I will ponder this with a bowl of pistachios, and call it "cracking meditation." :)
- Published on
"Self-Portrait, 2019" - acrylic on mat board. NFS
There are circumstances in life which force us to reinvent ourselves - to live within limitations, to reach outside of our comfort zones or to drop everything we know in a trust-fall of epic proportions. But we also have the choice to re-imagine our existence at any moment.
Artists create new worlds each time they begin a piece of work. It is a heady responsibility. This is magnified when it's a self-portrait.
Artist Caroline C. Brown got me started on the annual selfie way back in the beginning of (my) art. There is nothing more horrifying, and yet more liberating, than painting yourself. It is an exercise in objectivity and distance which, somehow, in the end, brings us closer to and more accepting of ourselves. How is that possible?
There are circumstances in life which force us to reinvent ourselves - to live within limitations, to reach outside of our comfort zones or to drop everything we know in a trust-fall of epic proportions. But we also have the choice to re-imagine our existence at any moment.
Artists create new worlds each time they begin a piece of work. It is a heady responsibility. This is magnified when it's a self-portrait.
Artist Caroline C. Brown got me started on the annual selfie way back in the beginning of (my) art. There is nothing more horrifying, and yet more liberating, than painting yourself. It is an exercise in objectivity and distance which, somehow, in the end, brings us closer to and more accepting of ourselves. How is that possible?
Self-Portrait, 2019
Notan
For this piece, I began with a photo run through the Notanizer app. Removing color, isolating values and big shapes already puts me at an objective distance from my own creased forehead and silvery strands.
An old piece of uncut mat board was the perfect substrate. It grabbed the paint and handled water without too much buckling. Using a paint pen, I roughed in the shapes, then began painting with black gesso. While the gesso was wet, I came in with white gesso to make some gray tones to set up the values for the piece. Pulling further away from realism, I chose a pop color palette and a stencil to add a little texture.
About halfway through the piece, I put away the Notan and worked with what was on the mat board. The expression changed a bit, as did a few of the shapes, but the end result is still me, reinvented
An old piece of uncut mat board was the perfect substrate. It grabbed the paint and handled water without too much buckling. Using a paint pen, I roughed in the shapes, then began painting with black gesso. While the gesso was wet, I came in with white gesso to make some gray tones to set up the values for the piece. Pulling further away from realism, I chose a pop color palette and a stencil to add a little texture.
About halfway through the piece, I put away the Notan and worked with what was on the mat board. The expression changed a bit, as did a few of the shapes, but the end result is still me, reinvented
As I stand in front of my mirror this morning, make-up in hand, you know I am tempted to recreate this look on my actual face, right?
- Published on
Loft (Lungta or Wind-horse)
"Loft " (Lungta or Wind-horses)- mixed media on repurposed wood. 16# x 5.5" x .75". Ready to hang. Available here and at Artfinder.
I wonder if our prayers, intentions, wishes and dreams are more potent and powerful if lofted high, far past the outfield and high into the sunlight where our eyes lose the ability to follow the ball...
There is something magical about being high up on a mountain, wind whipping your face and grabbing at your clothes. I can think of a handful of times I've held that view (and held my breath - I have a little thing with heights). In North Carolina, a climb to the top of Crowder's Mountain was rewarded with raptors soaring below. In Ireland, every mountain has a breathtaking view - sometimes fields and tiny towns, other times the wild Atlantic and rugged cliffs and seabirds. And in Oregon, there are mountains everywhere for scaling - far more challenging than anything I've scrambled up before.
I haven't seen the mountainous views of Tibet in person, but am drawn again and again to the photos of tattered prayer flags hung in thick layers across mountain passes - evidence of man's quest to feel the breath of gods and to let gods better hear his prayers. There are prayer flags outside my own house, slowly aging, fading and fraying. A reminder of surrender and acceptance and ever-present change.
As I converse with my neighborhood crow friend each morning, I wonder if I could ask him to carry a prayer flag (lungta or wind-horse) or two as he rises up over treetops and buildings. Perhaps if I smear them with jelly or something tasty? In the meantime, this piece of art, a trio of birds carrying prayer flags, is a symbol of lofted prayers and soaring dreams. Namaste.
I wonder if our prayers, intentions, wishes and dreams are more potent and powerful if lofted high, far past the outfield and high into the sunlight where our eyes lose the ability to follow the ball...
There is something magical about being high up on a mountain, wind whipping your face and grabbing at your clothes. I can think of a handful of times I've held that view (and held my breath - I have a little thing with heights). In North Carolina, a climb to the top of Crowder's Mountain was rewarded with raptors soaring below. In Ireland, every mountain has a breathtaking view - sometimes fields and tiny towns, other times the wild Atlantic and rugged cliffs and seabirds. And in Oregon, there are mountains everywhere for scaling - far more challenging than anything I've scrambled up before.
I haven't seen the mountainous views of Tibet in person, but am drawn again and again to the photos of tattered prayer flags hung in thick layers across mountain passes - evidence of man's quest to feel the breath of gods and to let gods better hear his prayers. There are prayer flags outside my own house, slowly aging, fading and fraying. A reminder of surrender and acceptance and ever-present change.
As I converse with my neighborhood crow friend each morning, I wonder if I could ask him to carry a prayer flag (lungta or wind-horse) or two as he rises up over treetops and buildings. Perhaps if I smear them with jelly or something tasty? In the meantime, this piece of art, a trio of birds carrying prayer flags, is a symbol of lofted prayers and soaring dreams. Namaste.
- Published on
"What We are Made of is Unbreakable" - mixed media on gallery wrapped canvas, 30" x 40" x 1.5". Ready to hang. Available here and at Artfinder.
How I have cried over spilled milk! And cracked pots, dented car doors and fried hard drives. I've cried over jammed fingers, bee stings, broken bones and surgery. I have sobbed over the loss of parents, the pain of a struggling child and the suffering of aging pooches. I've cried with sorrow, cried with fear and shed a bucket of tears over loss. But at some point, "we can be healed by the paradox that while life at times feels unbearable, what we are made of is unbreakable." (Mark Nepo)
How I have cried over spilled milk! And cracked pots, dented car doors and fried hard drives. I've cried over jammed fingers, bee stings, broken bones and surgery. I have sobbed over the loss of parents, the pain of a struggling child and the suffering of aging pooches. I've cried with sorrow, cried with fear and shed a bucket of tears over loss. But at some point, "we can be healed by the paradox that while life at times feels unbearable, what we are made of is unbreakable." (Mark Nepo)
What We are Made of is Unbreakable
Now this is surely an ironic quote to connect with, given this girl has the spine of a dried flower in a stampede of wildebeest.
And yet - I am not broken Not broken by the milk or the surgery or the loss. Ok, deflated, agonized, irritated, depressed, angry, upset and crabby - but not broken.
It isn't what I intended, that puddle of (macadamia nut) milk. I didn't intend for that bee to sting me. Never intended for my children to be hurt (by anything or anyone) or for a long line of tail-wagging best friends to come to the end of their lives. And we never intend to lose the ones we love. But Nepo (you knew this was coming, didn't you?) has an answer for that: "This inevitable struggle between what we intend and what life provides is how we apprentice in the art of acceptance."
No hold on a gosh-darned minute! I don't recall signing up for this particular apprenticeship. It's like the "P-word" (patience) all over again. Sigh. Sometimes life provides lemons, And sometimes it is raw onions, which makes lemons look like candy. And Pongo would eat either one with glee, so who am I to complain?
No hold on a gosh-darned minute! I don't recall signing up for this particular apprenticeship. It's like the "P-word" (patience) all over again. Sigh. Sometimes life provides lemons, And sometimes it is raw onions, which makes lemons look like candy. And Pongo would eat either one with glee, so who am I to complain?
- Published on
"The Queen Set Down Her Worries" - mixed media on repurposed wood. 18" x 7.5" x .75" . Ready to hang. Available here and at Artfinder.
Being queen is great when the kingdom is running smoothly and everyone is singing kumbaya. It is less great when there are murmurs and whispers of unrest among the citizens. And it outright sucks when a rebellion blasts the castle gates and leaves a herd of cows spilling out into the forest and a hole where there once was a wall. At that point, a smart queen will just set down her worries and go for a walk. Sometimes you have to clear your head before you know what's next.
And tumultuous times call for a little spirit balm, so I am back to Mark Nepo's The One Life We're Given , seeking answers as elusive as an introvert in a mosh pit. Today he gives us this:
"...when we dare to put down everything we carry and open ourselves to what we're born with, clarity is the tear of being that cleanses the heart."
Being queen is great when the kingdom is running smoothly and everyone is singing kumbaya. It is less great when there are murmurs and whispers of unrest among the citizens. And it outright sucks when a rebellion blasts the castle gates and leaves a herd of cows spilling out into the forest and a hole where there once was a wall. At that point, a smart queen will just set down her worries and go for a walk. Sometimes you have to clear your head before you know what's next.
And tumultuous times call for a little spirit balm, so I am back to Mark Nepo's The One Life We're Given , seeking answers as elusive as an introvert in a mosh pit. Today he gives us this:
"...when we dare to put down everything we carry and open ourselves to what we're born with, clarity is the tear of being that cleanses the heart."
The Queen Set Down Her Worries
Now clarity sounds like a pretty good thing today. And a good heart cleansing is probably past due. So I am channeling this savvy queen today, putting things down right and left, willy-nilly and hither and yon. I probably left a pile of stuff out by the sidewalk. And a mound over by the gate. As long as no one trips, I think this method may just be the ticket.
- Published on
"Be Nice to You" (elephant number 2)
"Be Nice to You" (elephant number 2) - acrylic on panel, 8" x 8". Ready to hang. Available at The Salty Teacup.
"Be Kind to You" (goat) - acrylic on panel, 8" x 8". Ready to hang. Available at The Salty Teacup.
An unexpected hiatus last week kept me out of the studio and away from the paints. But sometimes these things are big ol' blessing bombs, as I feel rejuvenated and filled with new ideas again. One is already in progress, but in the meantime these two upbeat beasties are heading off to the Salty Teacup today. Fresh off the easel and ready to replace their missing brethren who found new homes over the weekend.
"Be Kind to You" (goat) - acrylic on panel, 8" x 8". Ready to hang. Available at The Salty Teacup.
An unexpected hiatus last week kept me out of the studio and away from the paints. But sometimes these things are big ol' blessing bombs, as I feel rejuvenated and filled with new ideas again. One is already in progress, but in the meantime these two upbeat beasties are heading off to the Salty Teacup today. Fresh off the easel and ready to replace their missing brethren who found new homes over the weekend.
These blog posts often appear like dandelions on my laptop - emerging without effort and in great numbers. Not today. I sit here stumped. Company arrives tomorrow, and the laundry is piled high. It nags me like the most unkind of mistresses. And since pre-company day is no time to throw out the "to do" list, I will leave you with this:
Laundry
textile mistress
trips, tangles, torments
demands
launches odor assaults until
I obey.
Laundry
textile mistress
trips, tangles, torments
demands
launches odor assaults until
I obey.
"Be Kind to You" (goat)
The blog is on vacation for the next week while we celebrate family and create more laundry. Happy 4th!
- Published on
Gilda and Gabriel Under the Moon
"Gilda and Gabriel Under the Moon" - acrylic on cradled wood panel, 11" x 14" x 1.5". Ready to hang. Available here and at Artfinder.
By the light.....of the hot pink moon...
And then there were more witches. This one, Gilda, cannot seem to get messenger, Gabriel, to vacate his perch and allow her a moment for broom flying under the moon. If she's a smart witch, she won't shake him off. She might look and listen and ponder. It is hard to stop and breathe when messengers appear in the middle of things.
How many times have I looked back and said "AHA! There was a message!" after I barged past it to keep up with whatever I had planned for the day? Messages from the universe are rarely conveniently timed. I'd wager they appear MOSTLY when we are rushing about. And maybe BECAUSE we are rushing about. Hmmm.
By the light.....of the hot pink moon...
And then there were more witches. This one, Gilda, cannot seem to get messenger, Gabriel, to vacate his perch and allow her a moment for broom flying under the moon. If she's a smart witch, she won't shake him off. She might look and listen and ponder. It is hard to stop and breathe when messengers appear in the middle of things.
How many times have I looked back and said "AHA! There was a message!" after I barged past it to keep up with whatever I had planned for the day? Messages from the universe are rarely conveniently timed. I'd wager they appear MOSTLY when we are rushing about. And maybe BECAUSE we are rushing about. Hmmm.
There is so much busyness and hurrying in the modern world. Some of it self-imposed, some of it imposed by others. We begin to think it is normal, expected, beneficial, even. I am the WORST offender on this topic - productivity is balm for my angsty-ness.
So that's that. I am tossing out my "to do" list today (EEEEK! PANIC!) and just going with the flow. Oh, and perhaps I should set down this broom, too.
So that's that. I am tossing out my "to do" list today (EEEEK! PANIC!) and just going with the flow. Oh, and perhaps I should set down this broom, too.
- Published on
"Minerva and Mia Find Balance" - acrylic on repurposed wood, 12" x 21" x .75". Ready to hang. Available here and at Artfinder.
Here's an exercise for you - take an uneven piece of scrap wood and let the edges dictate the subjects and shapes.
This piece of scrap wood was grabbed from the discard bin in a woodworking facility about two months ago. Something about the shape intrigued me. I have stared at this every day since then, and finally decided to give it a go. It started with an underpainting of gold gesso, and the idea that time and balance have been overarching themes recently, and somehow this piece would be about that.
What I love about Minerva and Mia....even though their very purpose seems to be holding things in place, they do it with acrobatic grace and a cheerful demeanor. Which I aspire to do one day, instead of being clumsy (I broke a toe last night trying to sit down - don't even ask) and growling about too many responsibilities and stresses.
Here's an exercise for you - take an uneven piece of scrap wood and let the edges dictate the subjects and shapes.
This piece of scrap wood was grabbed from the discard bin in a woodworking facility about two months ago. Something about the shape intrigued me. I have stared at this every day since then, and finally decided to give it a go. It started with an underpainting of gold gesso, and the idea that time and balance have been overarching themes recently, and somehow this piece would be about that.
What I love about Minerva and Mia....even though their very purpose seems to be holding things in place, they do it with acrobatic grace and a cheerful demeanor. Which I aspire to do one day, instead of being clumsy (I broke a toe last night trying to sit down - don't even ask) and growling about too many responsibilities and stresses.
Minerva and Mia Find Balance
"It isn't 'resting bitch face' ", I say to my family, "it's MY FACE." They don't believe me. But truly I have not mastered (yet) the art of gracefully handling pain (or gracefully sitting down, apparently) and certainly have no chance of winning any game where a poker face is required. Minerva and Mia have much to teach me.
The summer solstice arrives today - the longest day, the shortest night. Plenty of time, dear reader, to contemplate all those balls you're juggling and the beams you're holding in place. And the tick tick tick of father time, reminding us of its finiteness. Or, we could jump into the mindset of the mouse, observing from a safe place, wondering why humans are so odd and perhaps going back inside the clock for tea and biscuits. Hmmm. I say we have tea.
The summer solstice arrives today - the longest day, the shortest night. Plenty of time, dear reader, to contemplate all those balls you're juggling and the beams you're holding in place. And the tick tick tick of father time, reminding us of its finiteness. Or, we could jump into the mindset of the mouse, observing from a safe place, wondering why humans are so odd and perhaps going back inside the clock for tea and biscuits. Hmmm. I say we have tea.
- Published on
"Dagfinn's Big Day Out" - acrylic on cradled wood panel, 11" x 14" x 1.5". Ready to hang. Available here and at Artfinder.
Can you tell?
I am back to "Ten Minute Monsters" and whatever wackiness shows up in the sketch book. This big-bellied ogre was a hoot to paint. That face! That hand! That little bird! There is heap load of fun happening here.
I suppose you could have too much fun.
You could.
But would you?
Would you allow yourself to have so much fun that you'd really, truly classify it as TOO MUCH? I've tried, let me tell you, and it isn't easy. Those little nagging responsible thoughts jump right in and let me know it's time to (insert to-do list item here). And the fun stops.
Can you tell?
I am back to "Ten Minute Monsters" and whatever wackiness shows up in the sketch book. This big-bellied ogre was a hoot to paint. That face! That hand! That little bird! There is heap load of fun happening here.
I suppose you could have too much fun.
You could.
But would you?
Would you allow yourself to have so much fun that you'd really, truly classify it as TOO MUCH? I've tried, let me tell you, and it isn't easy. Those little nagging responsible thoughts jump right in and let me know it's time to (insert to-do list item here). And the fun stops.
Dagfinn's Big Day Out
Dagfinn sketch
When we were young, fun was the goal. And we didn't ration it, feel guilty about it or apologize for pursuing it. If your parents were like mine, you were cautioned against excesses of anything, and perhaps led to believe that if everyone had fun all the time, the world would become a boiling cauldron of chaos and dirty dishes.
But part of me wonders...if everyone had a little more fun, wouldn't the world be a BETTER place? Dagfinn wants you to think about it today. He's writing you a prescription to increase your daily fun. He swears he is a doctor of sorts, so....doctor's orders! Get out there and make some mayhem. It will be good for you.
But part of me wonders...if everyone had a little more fun, wouldn't the world be a BETTER place? Dagfinn wants you to think about it today. He's writing you a prescription to increase your daily fun. He swears he is a doctor of sorts, so....doctor's orders! Get out there and make some mayhem. It will be good for you.
