- Published on
"Jenso" - mixed media on SOHO urban painting board, 12" x 16". Ready to frame. Available here and at Artfinder.
I was playing with the art of enso using my sumi-e brush and some ink last week. But what do you think happened? A bit of malarkey and my own "jenso", who is collaged with materials at the Morikami Japanese Gardens last month. A little sideways visit to Japan, one might say.
I consider this piece a failed enso, but a happy whimsical accident. She makes me smile with her pretty kimono and side buns.
This is also my first time using SOHO painting boards. They are less expensive than aquabord, and a bit heartier than Crescent board or Canson art board. This one held a ton of liquid without buckling, but doesn't generate the same groovy textures as on the aquabord. I will use it again, without inks, and see what happens.
Using ink in a painting is pretty much a forced surrender. The ink cannot be controlled, nor can it be completely covered. Like an old hurt deeply buried, ink returns - seeping up through gesso and acrylic paint, regardless of the number of layers. A reminder of what came before, and the need to embrace all that is our experience, even the parts we wish to bury. Ink becomes a lesson in making lemonade of lemons. Who knew certain art supplies mandate a personal archeological dig?
There is one aspect of the enso process I truly enjoy - vocal painting. The more theatrical of the enso painters use large brushes (imagine brooms) and martial arts stances, along with guttural growls and shouts. Now DO try this at home! There is something delightfully mischievous about shouting and growling as you paint circles with big arm gestures. Not to mention the looks you get from certain family members wandering by your studio door...though it might be more impressive if I weren't in a flowery bathrobe and pajamas.
And speaking of physicality in artistry, here is a previously unreleased recording of Prince, along with a video montage of his incredible dance moves to start your week off right.
There is one aspect of the enso process I truly enjoy - vocal painting. The more theatrical of the enso painters use large brushes (imagine brooms) and martial arts stances, along with guttural growls and shouts. Now DO try this at home! There is something delightfully mischievous about shouting and growling as you paint circles with big arm gestures. Not to mention the looks you get from certain family members wandering by your studio door...though it might be more impressive if I weren't in a flowery bathrobe and pajamas.
And speaking of physicality in artistry, here is a previously unreleased recording of Prince, along with a video montage of his incredible dance moves to start your week off right.
- Published on
"Release and Bind" - mixed media on aquabord, 18" x 24". Ready to frame, or can be leaned agains a wall upon a shelf. Available here and at Artfinder.
Let's dive back into Mark Nepo's The One Life We're Given. Because Nepo has been slapping me upside the head. The chapter Wanting to Go Back tackles our inner chicken...you know, the one who is all gung-ho about crossing the road until there are cars, potholes and buses to contend with. Then the chicken is all "oooooh life was just fine on this side of the road" and stops moving forward. Yep. I have an inner chicken.
Nepo describes our inner revelations, our aha moments, our lightbulbs of insight that catapult us forward to try new things, make changes, grasp brass rings...and then the chicken that drags us backwards once the work of change begins. "We feel refreshed and then enervated," says Nepo. "Every day has its release and bind."
Ouch. Stop slapping me, Mark Nepo!
Let's dive back into Mark Nepo's The One Life We're Given. Because Nepo has been slapping me upside the head. The chapter Wanting to Go Back tackles our inner chicken...you know, the one who is all gung-ho about crossing the road until there are cars, potholes and buses to contend with. Then the chicken is all "oooooh life was just fine on this side of the road" and stops moving forward. Yep. I have an inner chicken.
Nepo describes our inner revelations, our aha moments, our lightbulbs of insight that catapult us forward to try new things, make changes, grasp brass rings...and then the chicken that drags us backwards once the work of change begins. "We feel refreshed and then enervated," says Nepo. "Every day has its release and bind."
Ouch. Stop slapping me, Mark Nepo!
There are forces in my life pushing me forward right now. Daring me to do this or try that, abandon one thing and pick up another. And then my fowl feathers sprout and I am all flapping arms and BAGAAAAAAWK. Nepo has no room for chickens: "Since there will always be voices calling us back, a central part of the work of awakening is the need to stand firm in our newfound wakefulness." Logic tells me standing firm requires strength, like a super hero chicken or something. But Nepo says no, standing firm requires honoring the gift of our sensitivity, our tender heart, and allowing that to become the source of our strength.
Our human nature turns us back from change because there is comfort in the familiar. "The only way is forward, a step at a time, becoming ever more sensitive and resilient," says Nepo. My sensitive inner chicken is going to need a cape and a mask.
Thank you, dear readers, for your many comments and shared stories about the art in your personal spaces this week! My underpaid assistant (um, husband, I mean) drew a name at random from a bowl this morning. Congratulations, Mary C!!!! A piece of art is on its way from me to you.
Our human nature turns us back from change because there is comfort in the familiar. "The only way is forward, a step at a time, becoming ever more sensitive and resilient," says Nepo. My sensitive inner chicken is going to need a cape and a mask.
Thank you, dear readers, for your many comments and shared stories about the art in your personal spaces this week! My underpaid assistant (um, husband, I mean) drew a name at random from a bowl this morning. Congratulations, Mary C!!!! A piece of art is on its way from me to you.
- Published on
"Queen Ursula" - mixed media on aquabord, 16" x 20". Ready to frame, or can be leaned against a wall upon a shelf.
Available here and at Artfinder.
I'm finishing up some odds and ends in the studio. Not to say this one is odd...I think she is sweetness itself. Ursula began at the Miami Watercolor Society demo waaaaay back in January. She is delighted to be fully dressed and ready to receive visitors. :)
Ursula means "little bear" or "she-bear." There is some good mojo in a name like that. Her dress is made of gelli-plate printed paper from four different sessions, and yet somehow all this little pieces wove a beautiful fabric together.
Kind of how life sometimes all comes together even when the bits that are merging seem oddly paired.
Available here and at Artfinder.
I'm finishing up some odds and ends in the studio. Not to say this one is odd...I think she is sweetness itself. Ursula began at the Miami Watercolor Society demo waaaaay back in January. She is delighted to be fully dressed and ready to receive visitors. :)
Ursula means "little bear" or "she-bear." There is some good mojo in a name like that. Her dress is made of gelli-plate printed paper from four different sessions, and yet somehow all this little pieces wove a beautiful fabric together.
Kind of how life sometimes all comes together even when the bits that are merging seem oddly paired.
Over the last year, I've been curating a collection of art for my own inspiration. A piece here, a piece there. None with a decorative purpose - just following my heart's desire and grabbing those that move me (and that I can afford). Slowly, methodically they've been framed and hung. There are odd pairings and quirky bits, sentimental pieces and show-stoppers. It is nearly done. Nearly. What I wasn't prepared for was how much these pieces impact my day-to-day life. Walking into a room with something wonderful on the wall (or a couple of walls) elevates my mood and changes the energy in the space - I feel a little boost of joy when I catch one out of the corner of my eye.
As an artist, I hear a lot of industry talk about art being a non-necessity - that people won't buy it during troublesome times, that it is a luxury item and so on. And perhaps, for some, it is so. But through my own collecting I am experiencing the opposite: art is more necessary during dark days and uncertainty. It brings a feeling of hope and limitlessness, adventure and possibility.
And so I am curious, dear reader! What impact (if any) does the art on your walls have on you? Are there pieces you treasure and why? Leave a comment below. One of you will be selected at random to receive a small piece of my art. Let's deck the walls!
As an artist, I hear a lot of industry talk about art being a non-necessity - that people won't buy it during troublesome times, that it is a luxury item and so on. And perhaps, for some, it is so. But through my own collecting I am experiencing the opposite: art is more necessary during dark days and uncertainty. It brings a feeling of hope and limitlessness, adventure and possibility.
And so I am curious, dear reader! What impact (if any) does the art on your walls have on you? Are there pieces you treasure and why? Leave a comment below. One of you will be selected at random to receive a small piece of my art. Let's deck the walls!
- Published on
"Three Tinas" - mixed media on 300 lb watercolor paper, 22" x 15". Ready to frame. Available here and at Artfinder.
Another start from the Pat Dews workshop - this one with a whimsical twist!
It began as a dark abstract, with lots of shapes that made no sense whatsoever. During the workshop, in a dramatic move of complete frustration, I covered the entire piece with thick white gesso and began carving into it with the end of a paintbrush. Floral shapes appeared in the etchings, and so I followed the pattern with paint. I like the failed underpainting showing through the gesso. The texture on this piece is rich and thick.
It must be whimsical week in the universe, as I was led to a post on the artist Tsuguharu Fujita, someone I'd never heard of. His art is whimsical and quirky, just as his personality and manner of dress. I've read he was quite successful as an artist, a testament to the popularity of whimsy even a generation ago. A kindred spirit from the past...thanks, universe!
If we drop further into the whimsical rabbit hole, we stumble across an online magazine dedicated to whimsy and a article introducing us to some current whimsical artists. STOP RIGHT THERE! There is a magazine about whimsy? Indeed!
Naive (or whimsical) art is a genre crossing continents and generations. It is a fast growing category, which some hypothesize as a response to a world which is increasingly dark and stressful. But what IS it exactly? "Naive art uses childlike innocence to lighten reality" says Nirel Matsil, Naive Art Online. Nirel further defines how naive artists accomplish this:
• Bright colors – Naïve art utilizes colors and mixed media that are not true to reality and often juxtaposed against one another.
• A childlike perspective – Naïve art often creates the illusion that objects are floating or positioned without anything solid anchoring them in place.
• Live creatures, people, and flora – The focus is almost always on animated characters and never on inanimate objects.
• Precision of detail – Naïve artists often pay very close attention to the soft borders, intense backgrounds, and fine lines of their figures and objects.
Maybe you fell asleep reading this description because you haven't had your coffee yet...perhaps a video is more your style?
If we drop further into the whimsical rabbit hole, we stumble across an online magazine dedicated to whimsy and a article introducing us to some current whimsical artists. STOP RIGHT THERE! There is a magazine about whimsy? Indeed!
Naive (or whimsical) art is a genre crossing continents and generations. It is a fast growing category, which some hypothesize as a response to a world which is increasingly dark and stressful. But what IS it exactly? "Naive art uses childlike innocence to lighten reality" says Nirel Matsil, Naive Art Online. Nirel further defines how naive artists accomplish this:
• Bright colors – Naïve art utilizes colors and mixed media that are not true to reality and often juxtaposed against one another.
• A childlike perspective – Naïve art often creates the illusion that objects are floating or positioned without anything solid anchoring them in place.
• Live creatures, people, and flora – The focus is almost always on animated characters and never on inanimate objects.
• Precision of detail – Naïve artists often pay very close attention to the soft borders, intense backgrounds, and fine lines of their figures and objects.
Maybe you fell asleep reading this description because you haven't had your coffee yet...perhaps a video is more your style?
- Published on
"Floating Stones" - mixed media on paper, 22" x 15". Available here and at Artfinder.
It was soup weekend here at malarkey central. Thanks to a recommendation by my sister (who has been dubbed by our family "Queen of Soups"), I have in my hands a copy of Clean Soup and many quarts of magic mineral broth. A few cloudy days and a sprinkle or two after many months of unrelenting sun provided the kind of dreary atmosphere that drives me into the kitchen to make soup.
The dry season is coming to an end in Florida. Rains are whispering of hurricane forecasting and humidity and hot summer. Spring break tourists have left our beaches and the snow birds are heading north. As the rest of the country looks toward warming temperatures and summer outdoor activities, those of us living six inches from the sun begin our seasonal hibernation. It is a backwards world down here.
I continue communing with Diebenkorn, finishing this piece with great glee! Those small spots of color - a tiny line hither and yon. Yum. This was another start from
It was soup weekend here at malarkey central. Thanks to a recommendation by my sister (who has been dubbed by our family "Queen of Soups"), I have in my hands a copy of Clean Soup and many quarts of magic mineral broth. A few cloudy days and a sprinkle or two after many months of unrelenting sun provided the kind of dreary atmosphere that drives me into the kitchen to make soup.
The dry season is coming to an end in Florida. Rains are whispering of hurricane forecasting and humidity and hot summer. Spring break tourists have left our beaches and the snow birds are heading north. As the rest of the country looks toward warming temperatures and summer outdoor activities, those of us living six inches from the sun begin our seasonal hibernation. It is a backwards world down here.
I continue communing with Diebenkorn, finishing this piece with great glee! Those small spots of color - a tiny line hither and yon. Yum. This was another start from
the Pat Dews workshop, and I couldn't be happier with the result. :) I've got my sights on two more of the starts this week. Also in my viewfinder - Mark Rothko and Willem deKooning. Giants of abstraction and people I long to understand.
Even as the number of pieces in progress in the studio grows, I hear Mark Nepo's words tumbling about behind the scenes of my creations. "What we accomplish and create matters. But we're not defined by what we create. We're defined by how the engagement of our being shapes and creates us." Oooooooh he's a smart one. What defines me is how engagement shapes and creates me, even as I am shaping and creating other things. It isn't what but how. And in its circular and confounding sense of humor, with this thought the universe has just abstracted the concept of creating even as I create abstracts. Oy vey. I am gonna need more coffee.
Even as the number of pieces in progress in the studio grows, I hear Mark Nepo's words tumbling about behind the scenes of my creations. "What we accomplish and create matters. But we're not defined by what we create. We're defined by how the engagement of our being shapes and creates us." Oooooooh he's a smart one. What defines me is how engagement shapes and creates me, even as I am shaping and creating other things. It isn't what but how. And in its circular and confounding sense of humor, with this thought the universe has just abstracted the concept of creating even as I create abstracts. Oy vey. I am gonna need more coffee.
- Published on
"Mild Euphoria" - mixed media on paper, 15" x 11". Ready to frame. Available here and at Artfinder.
The last of the visitors are gone. The house is quiet, the cupboard is bare. My heart is full of laughter, late nights and adventure with some of the best people on earth. But now it is time to paint!
This piece began as one of the small starts from the Pat Dews workshop. It really didn't have any direction, so I decided to seek inspiration from one of the greats - Diebenkorn.
I spent hours with one of his paintings (well, a photo of one of his paintings. Wouldn't a Diebenkorn on the wall make my house magical?) And then a little time learning about the man himself. You can't read about Diebenkorn without stumbling across a list of unusual rules...
Notes to myself on beginning a painting - Richard Diebenkorn.
I am secretly delighted by some of these....perverse carefulness is intriguing! As is using the destructive potential of boredom. Chaos, now, that is a steady state in my studio and in many of my paintings. It is certainly the state of my calendar. "Attempt what is not certain" - this is a call to ADVENTURE and EXPLORATION! Oh yes! My heart sings at that one.
And so, this little piece, following some of these rules on top of a workshop start, leaves me a little giddy and mildly euphoric. Can one be just a little euphoric? Perhaps that makes me just a smidgeon Pollyanna. :)
- Attempt what is not certain. Certainty may or may not come later. It may then be a valuable delusion.
- The pretty, initial position which falls short of completeness is not to be valued - except as a stimulus for further moves.
- Do search. But in order to find other than what is searched for.
- Use and respond to the initial fresh qualities of the paint but consider them absolutely expendable.
- Don’t “discover” a subject - of any kind.
- Somehow don’t be bored but if you must, use it in action. Use its destructive potential.
- Mistakes can’t be erased but they move you forward from your present position.
- Keep thinking about Pollyanna.
- Tolerate chaos.
- Be careful only in a perverse way.
I am secretly delighted by some of these....perverse carefulness is intriguing! As is using the destructive potential of boredom. Chaos, now, that is a steady state in my studio and in many of my paintings. It is certainly the state of my calendar. "Attempt what is not certain" - this is a call to ADVENTURE and EXPLORATION! Oh yes! My heart sings at that one.
And so, this little piece, following some of these rules on top of a workshop start, leaves me a little giddy and mildly euphoric. Can one be just a little euphoric? Perhaps that makes me just a smidgeon Pollyanna. :)
- Published on
"Lady Bird" - acrylic on aquabord, 16" x 20". Ready to frame, or can be leaned against a wall upon a shelf. Available here and at Artfinder.
A wee bit of malarkey and a pop of spring for Easter Sunday. We've transitioned from friends visiting from afar to family to even more family, so the house is abuzz with activity and late-night board games. An attempt to play Bears vs. Babies helped to reaffirm our love for old standards like Dixit, but I was a bit fascinated with building a manatee in a suit with a torpedo arm to take out the evil land babies.
A wee bit of malarkey and a pop of spring for Easter Sunday. We've transitioned from friends visiting from afar to family to even more family, so the house is abuzz with activity and late-night board games. An attempt to play Bears vs. Babies helped to reaffirm our love for old standards like Dixit, but I was a bit fascinated with building a manatee in a suit with a torpedo arm to take out the evil land babies.
Lady Bird
There is no time for painting with the parade of fabulous visitors, so this fancy bird was completed just before all the shenanigans began. We've been busy needle felting, however, and this bowl of sleeping bunnies made us squeak with delight every time we spied it on the counter. Who doesn't love a bowl of sleeping rabbits?
I am short on sleep but brimming with inspiration this week.
Multiple visits to Flamingo Gardens, a beach walk and a day at the Morikami Museum and Gardens have my pile of potential painting images spilling over. Several lazy movie days and time to read a fabulous fantasy novel have my brain mulling all kinds of new characters to add to the studio menagerie. Julia Cameron would approve of the bounty of artist dates this month has held.
A new month, a full moon, rising temperatures and dates set aside for graduation celebrations are a reminder of change taking place all around. Our little mango tree, planted three years ago when we first moved to Florida, is brimming with tiny mangoes for the first time. And these three unlikely companions (right) held a pose for me as if to point out that anything is possible when spring is in the air. :)
- Published on
The paintings in this post are available to purchase. Click on each image for more details.
I am finally recovered from a marathon workshop with the incredible (and hilarious) Pat Dews! It will be a month before all of my "starts" are finished, but I did have time this weekend to ponder and complete one piece. Which, in Pat Dews land, means I have a bunch of completed pieces. :)
One of the many lessons learned last week was the value of cropping. Dews had us work on full sheets (22" x 30") all week long. Even when space was limited and paint and elbows were flying, we worked LARGE.
The piece (which became pieces) I am showing you today consists of a dozen or more layers of watercolor, acrylic and gesso applied with a variety of tools and texture makers. The final layer was a waterfall of watery gesso and ink over a pre-dried layer of gloss medium, then spritzed with alcohol.
I am finally recovered from a marathon workshop with the incredible (and hilarious) Pat Dews! It will be a month before all of my "starts" are finished, but I did have time this weekend to ponder and complete one piece. Which, in Pat Dews land, means I have a bunch of completed pieces. :)
One of the many lessons learned last week was the value of cropping. Dews had us work on full sheets (22" x 30") all week long. Even when space was limited and paint and elbows were flying, we worked LARGE.
The piece (which became pieces) I am showing you today consists of a dozen or more layers of watercolor, acrylic and gesso applied with a variety of tools and texture makers. The final layer was a waterfall of watery gesso and ink over a pre-dried layer of gloss medium, then spritzed with alcohol.
The Weight of Water
Shadow Puppets
Though I really loved the textures and colors in the large piece, the overall composition was rather stagnant and dull. I was ready to start over, until Dews grabbed a set of "L's" (a 22" x 30" double sided mat cut into two L shapes) and began focusing on sections within the painting. To my delight, there were five paintings within the larger piece, each needing a bit of finishing but otherwise delightful all by themselves.
Many of Pat Dews' own complete paintings are cropped from large pieces, then finished with slight adjustments to make them sing.
Another lesson (which resulted in an "aha" moment for me) was that abstract paintings generally work better with the weight on the top. This is counter-intuitive, as realism places the darker colors on the bottom of the painting. Time and again during critique time, Dews rotated paintings to place the darkest part on the top, and the entire class said "whoa!"
Topsy Turvy
Shadows of Civilization
Out of Line
The third lesson I took away was the importance of finishing and construction paper. You might be going "huh?" at that last bit...
Using pieces of colored construction paper, Dews taped objects to each painting she reviewed to demonstrate how the addition of one line, a half circle or a tiny square could "finish" a painting. The construction paper allows you to audition ideas without changing the painting, until you identify the winner. In the piece to the left, it was the yellow line at the bottom right. Without it, the painting didn't work nearly as well.
I will be working on the remaining starts over the next month, and can hardly wait to see what's hiding in all of these glorious full sheets of texture and color!
- Published on
It is mid-week of the Pat Dews workshop and there are paintings (and paint) strewn about the venue. Piles of supplies, wagons of whatnots and a table full of snacks and good, strong coffee for bleary-eyed but determined students.
Going into day three, I have three good starts. Pat has taken us through a myriad of processes to find inspiration and design. There is glory in the room as each artist presents a start for public critique. Oooooh and aaaaaaahs for these unique and triumphant paintings. Even those "fails" seem brimming with potential as Pat outlines and points and tapes colors to spaces to demonstrate what could be.
I have to pause here to point out the courage of each artist in the room. Not just to paint (and for some outside of their usual wheelhouse) but to then place it on the easel in front of all the others and then listen, look and learn as each part of her painting is touched and critiqued. It is in that very moment of bravery where the golden nuggets lie. To really listen - without ego and insecurity - truly the act of a hero. And the room is full of heroes.
Pat Dews with one of my "starts"
I am brimming with anticipation as we pile into the car for the drive back to the workshop this morning. These days of scheduled, devoted, uninterrupted creating and learning are an exquisite gift. And to experience it in the presence of heroes...well, it is humbling.
These starts and others will be further altered during the workshop and afterward, perhaps. I will post the final versions when they're done, but thought you might like a peek into the wildly creative teachings of our instructor.
Now off we go. There is paint to be tossed about.
- Published on
"The Substance of Personhood" - mixed media on Canson art board, 20" by 16". Ready to frame. Available here and at Artfinder.
A rare Monday post as we prepare for an evening of revelry! The Ambassador of Listowel, Damian Stack, has arrived, and we're hosting a soiree in his honor. I don't know if he will mock our Guinness floats and green sheet cake or find each delicious. But I do know my heart will rejoice to see a bit of Listowel after many months away.
One of my traveling companions from the residency, the artist Carolyn Laudati, is here to greet Damian and to experience a full immersion into abstraction during a week-long workshop we're attending with the artist Pat Dews. This week is sure to be an adventure! And so an early post before the madness begins. :)
A rare Monday post as we prepare for an evening of revelry! The Ambassador of Listowel, Damian Stack, has arrived, and we're hosting a soiree in his honor. I don't know if he will mock our Guinness floats and green sheet cake or find each delicious. But I do know my heart will rejoice to see a bit of Listowel after many months away.
One of my traveling companions from the residency, the artist Carolyn Laudati, is here to greet Damian and to experience a full immersion into abstraction during a week-long workshop we're attending with the artist Pat Dews. This week is sure to be an adventure! And so an early post before the madness begins. :)
This piece started as an experimental watercolor and an underwater sea creature painting. Oh yes! Sharks, manatees and octopi cavorted in a tangle of seaweed and bubbles. But I didn't love it and so kept tossing chalky paint and burnishing and marking until this star-gazing countenance appeared...the sea became the heavens and the creatures swam away. Following the paint is a twisty-turning path, filled with surprises. The one constant between the beginning and the ending of this piece is the orange. And if you're curious, here is a brief history of that color.
Ultimately, this version resonated with me. In the current chapter of Mark Nepo's The One Life We're Given, he delves into the three fears: fear of the past, of the present and of the future, and of a time when he was paralyzed by all three occurring simultaneously. The silver lining of allowing yourself to fully experience fear is to be stripped of all the tools and tactics for dealing with them until "the chance to rely on no tools at all but on the substance of [your] personhood, trusting it [will] eventually meet the wind like a wing." It's all there - right inside us. The very substance of our personhood is the only tool we need to traverse the land of fear.
Let's meet the wind like a wing today. And raise a pint to our guests!
Ultimately, this version resonated with me. In the current chapter of Mark Nepo's The One Life We're Given, he delves into the three fears: fear of the past, of the present and of the future, and of a time when he was paralyzed by all three occurring simultaneously. The silver lining of allowing yourself to fully experience fear is to be stripped of all the tools and tactics for dealing with them until "the chance to rely on no tools at all but on the substance of [your] personhood, trusting it [will] eventually meet the wind like a wing." It's all there - right inside us. The very substance of our personhood is the only tool we need to traverse the land of fear.
Let's meet the wind like a wing today. And raise a pint to our guests!
