Chatterbox

Chatterbox sat on my easel for almost 2 months.  I poked around with it, found a few successes, but found myself stuck, and put it aside.  Working on other paintings, chatterbox stayed in the back of my mind, trying to find the answer.  The pressure started to mount, as I had two shows on the horizon that I wanted this piece for.  Finally, three days before packing the van, it started to come together.  I needed the megaphone! 

Starting at the top, the first panel has a cardinal apparently calling out the name, which is stitched through the canvas.  The typewriter images are photo transfers of a fabulous old typewriter that sits, rusted solid on my front porch.  The bulls eye represents the epicenter of chatterbox's voice.  Text behind the dress is from a spam email I received, a long letter filled with typos.  The megaphones are linoleum block prints that I carved and printed on pattern paper.  Below is a bit more of the letter, and a long, transparent glove.  The last canvas has the bottom of the dress, with more megaphones, transparent this time, and a circular pattern in the background.

I think this piece pulls together the feeling I wanted of unending one way communication.

I finished this piece around midnight, the night before leaving for a show in Cleveland, OH.  Scott framed it around 6 the following morning.  Perhaps she should be renamed "Just in the nick of time!"

A new gallery

One of the things on my to-do list this year was to make some more contacts with galleries.  Actually it has been on my to-do list for a very long time, but folks who know me well know that I can move glacially slow sometimes.  This is especially true of things that I worry may not be pleasant.  And the whole prospect of sending in a portfolio to a gallery seemed pretty high on the unpleasant list.

One of the realities of being an artist is you are always applying for a job so to speak.  Occasionally at a show I'll hear someone saying to their friend, "oh, you should do this next year!"  Like all we have to do is roll in to the festival, pop up a tent and *poof* you're in business.  But the truth is there is an application process to all the outdoor shows I do.  The artists apply through different online systems, sending in a short artist statement, and usually 4 images of your work, and one of your display.  And of course your non-refundable jury fee of anywhere between $25-$90.  The work is juried in categories, with usually jewelry, and mixed media work (that would be my category) getting the lion's share of applications.  The jurying is done by a blind jury, meaning the folks doing the decision making don't know the names of those applying.

A show with a good reputation will get somewhere in the neighbourhood of 1000-1500 applications for a show with 250 available spots.  A few have much higher odds, with as many as 2400 applications.  And notification of acceptance, or rejection, is always in the form a a quick email, usually read with one eye open to minimise the impact.  While rejection letters are usually met with a sigh and a grumble, acceptance letters are like crack for artists.  The kind of crack that keeps you applying next year.  Those happy endorphins just start buzzing as you think about how only 1 in 10 artists got in the show, how you had to score higher than the 1000 or so artists who didn't make it, and all that ego building nonsense that the brain can't help playing with.  But truth is much of the jury process comes down to the simple things, like personal taste, how many oily landscapes the jury has already seen this morning, whether the lighting in your photographs is a little weak.

But all this usually happens in a city far far away, by folks you don't know.  The artists never get direct feedback for the money they spend on jury fees, and frankly I'm good with that.  The application process and the one eyed email opening has become part of the rhythm of my life.  I am used to it.  But applying to a gallery?  That seemed like a totally different animal.

Galleries usually have a much more stand-offish way of dealing with interested artists.  If you look at some good gallery websites and find the submissions link.  (That is no Freudian slip, the artist is submissive here)  Often you'll find what they expect from an artist, number of images and the like and how they want it delivered, mail, email...whatever.  Then they say something warm and fuzzy like how they don't have time to reply to all submissions, if we are interested, you'll hear from us, if not, you won't.  Don't call.  I guess the rosy part is you don't have to pay an application fee this time to be ignored.

And I am sure this all comes for good reason, I expect galleries get pecked to death by folks who think they can paint.  I actually witnessed an artist meltdown as he was turned down by a gallery owner when he walked in with ordinary paintings tucked under both arms.  So I do understand the need for distance.

So this all takes me back to the idea of applying to a gallery.  I found one I really liked.  I thought about applying for a year or two, I went in a few times without saying anything.  Then one day I actually opened my mouth, introduced myself and got a card.  And still I fiddled.

The push came from an unlikely source, Scott and I were invited to stay at a friend's house on the way back from a show.  And an artist who has been included in galleries and exhibitions in New York and Washington among other places was there also.  I was tired, we had a few drinks, we were unloading about the show, and art in general.  And I was explaining about what a big assed chicken I was about applying to a big "white wall" gallery.  How the rejection would sting a little more if I was standing there all alone rather than in a group of a thousand.  The next morning as we were leaving he asked to see my work, as I had been talking about it the night before, and he really didn't know me from Adam's house cat.  So Scott and I pull one big piece out of the van, rest it on the dirty sidewalk on the side of the road and let the cover it is wrapped in slip to the ground. 

He got this look on his face like he was surprised that I had sense enough to form words or dress myself and said, "You don't think you could walk into any gallery in this country and get in with this work?"

So I applied to Pryor Fine Art, in Atlanta.  And if you go to the Artists link, you'll see my name, second from the top.

Ok, enough celebrating...back to the studio!

Surly Girl

 Surly Girl was just that.  A surly, difficult painting, with numerous re-dos and fiddles.  I could give a handful of excuses as to why this one was such a pain, all of them legit in my mind, but I'll save you from all that.  Let's just say, I love the way she turned out, and there are some beautiful things that happened in this piece that wouldn't have happened had I nailed it the first time round. 

The title came from a night at The Surly Girl Saloon after a show in Columbus, OH last year.  The name just stuck in my head, which is a rarity these days, for anything to stick that is.  In fact I just had to check with Scott to find out just where we were, but the name was a winner.  And certainly worthy of stealing for a painting.

Starting at the top and working down, the lemons signify that this girl isn't making lemonade out of a damn thing thank you very much.  She is a little bitter, so deal with it.  The crow is there simply for the sound of his voice, although the patterns in his plumage are quite attractive.

The dress itself is painted with a knotted up tree.  I took and developed this photo about 25 years ago in art school.  It finally came in handy!  The pattern around the dress was one of the things that was done twice, and because of this has a lot of beautiful color shining through.  You'll have to trust me on that one though, as it needs it's own close up to show that off.

And the bottom, the tornado, is my favorite.  Built with linoprints on pattern paper, and not much else, it is a vast improvement over the first version.  The first version is currently facing the wall in the studio, it is nicely painted and would stand well on its own if you have a hankering for a tornado painting.  But man, did it fight with the rest of the painting.  It had to be separated from the rest like a cranky sibling.  And if you've ever known a surly girl, you know what kind of damage they can do, a tornado seemed like a good metaphor.

Yesterday, as I was finishing up the piece I knew it needed one more thing.  Although I don't always stitch the name of the piece into the canvas it is becoming a favorite thing for me to do.  So I spent another couple hours last night coming up with a little crosstitch pattern, poking holes through the canvas and stitching in a yellow so subtle that pretty much no one will see it, ever.  It won't show up in the shots I send in to get juried into shows, but it's there.  Hopefully to be discovered by someone as they hang it on their wall!  "Girl" is stitched on the other lemon.

Now to get back out there and see how "Chatterbox" is coming along.  Thanks for checking in!

A case of the uglies.

Not only did my work take a little shift early this year, but my way of working did also.  Gone are the days of being quite so deadline dependant.  I used to work on the final piece, pushing it through and finishing it up just in time to load it into the van and head off to a show.  The downside to this was not only that I'd leave for a show physically exhausted, but I would also return home to a messy studio, with nothing but blank canvases to look at.

Now when I return home I find a handful of paintings in mid stream, ready to be be picked up and carried through to completion.  This is more comfortable for me because I am not trying to start from scratch, trying to find the magic right out of the gate.  I am inspired by what is in front of me, and can build on it.  When I walked into the studio for the first time in a week, this is what greeted me...

Yes, "Chatterbox" has miles and miles to go, but it has good bones.  And I was glad it was there, not only to jump start my painting, but as a bit of relief to it's sister in the studio.  "Surly Girl" is also in progress, and is currently living up to her namesake.  As much as "Chatterbox" is inspiring, "Surly Girl" is not.  "Surly" is in fact going through a eye gouging ugly stage.  The uglies are not always a bad thing, in fact they are practically expected, much like awkward teenage pimples.  Sometimes I court the uglies, building on them on purpose.  The uglies can be used to balance out a painting that has become too saccharine sweet, or you can surround a nice bit with something muddy, or squishy, and the contrast makes it shine. 

But right now "Surly" is just ugly, muddy, patchy, and just difficult in general.  And a sure fire way to be sure she stays that way is to sit here and continue to write about it.  So off I go, let's see if I can get her back on the rails.  If I do, I'll post about her, if I don't...well, try to forget I ever mentioned her.

Sugar

Sugar is fresh off the easel, and ready for her first show.  The dress itself was a gift, someone came to see me at the show in Fort Worth with a shopping bag with this little gem tucked inside.  She thought it was a perfect piece for a painting, and she was right. 

The chemical formula for sucrose is in a pretty script in grey on pink in the background.  The right side of the diptych is pure contrast with deep smoke and charcoal grey.  A sugar bowl (which happens to be my china pattern) is painted at the bottom.  Three perfect duck shaped mother of pearl buttons drop through the middle of the composition. 

And, by the way, "Sugar" is Scott's nickname for me (not always deserved, but that's another conversation.)  Did you know that I consider all of these pieces self portraits?  Even sweet ones like this that began as a generous thought.

 "All the girls" will be heading to Seaside FL for her first show this weekend, maybe I'll see you there.  Sugar is about 20" x 22"   $925

Little Bird

"Little Bird" found a home in Texas this past weekend.  She is one of those pieces that I've hardly had a chance to get to know, so to speak.  Finished and framed the day before we left, and sold at the first show.  Sold to a sweet family, with two children and another "little bird on the way." 

The Pine Warbler, top left was painted, the next canvas down features a linoleum block print in the background and a great child's glove.  (I had the pair, it's match will surface in a later painting, I am sure.)  The bottom left is a nest made from pattern pieces.  The right hand side has a repeating lino block bird behind the dress which was painted with yellow dots under the blue.

I guess it's time for me to quit talkin' and get workin' as my next show is in about 10 days.  If you are from "around here" I'll see you at our little local festival on May 5th.  The Jackson Fine Arts Festival, just off the square in Jackson, GA.  Saturday only from 10am-3pm!

Birdbrain

"Birdbrain" is the latest big piece I've finished.  Like "Black Betty" and "Queen Bee" she is just over 72" tall by 24" wide.  The top canvas has her name cross stitched through the canvas, with birds on wires over top.  The next three canvases are birds nests made with sewing patterns, laid out like a slot machine.  I was trying to explain my thinking on this to Scott, and the best I can do is to say it's like the only options "Birdbrain" has are to nest.  She can keep pulling the handle, but no other choices come up.  The background on the main canvas is scattered with subtle sunflower seeds, and the birdcage is one that hangs in my studio.  The dress has a repeat pattern of Carolina Wrens, with tails crossed.  Behind the birds you can just see hints of sewing patterns coming through.  The canvas with the glove has a beautiful damask pattern in the background, and a scattering of just slightly larger than life size sunflower seeds in the shell.

Although "Birdbrain" is typically thought of as an insult, I prefer to think of her as someone who has birds on the brain.  Someone with a need to care for others.  This is represented by the seeds, (feeding) and the need to build, and decorate.  She is perhaps a little trapped by this, as seen in the birdcage, and the lack of choices with only the option to nest.  But I think she is happy, or at least content.

On the road again.

Ah, the glamorous life of an artist!  Scott and I left home yesterday morning, promising all three cats and Freda that we would be back.  "One week, we promise, you'll sleep through most of it!"  The van was literally packed to the gills, no looking out the back window, and be careful opening the doors so an avalanche of "Creatively Required Assorted Props" aka "CRAP" doesn't come crashing out.  We programed our first stop into our GPS and we were on our way, like a herd of turtles. 

We don't do a lot of sight seeing during our travels, in fact I try to spend as much of the time on the road checking my eyelids for light leaks.  As we said tonight to our dinner companions, the first day on the road is like a day off, a decompression day.  We just drive, usually no radio, not much talking, whoever is not driving is usually sleeping, and we just keep going.  Occasionally the van, with over 275,000 miles on it, hiccups, and I flip back and forth between quietly saying a little prayer to the god of vans, and silently swearing at it and threatening to take a sledgehammer to it if it leaves us stranded in the middle of nowhere.  So far this plan has worked fairly well, we drove past the spot where the alternator crapped out last time we were making this journey, feeling more hopeful by the minute.  Food is whatever is in the cooler between us, and we just watch the miles tick by.  725 miles yesterday, and another couple hundred today.  Yes, in case I have you worried, I did renew my triple A membership before we left.

So here we are, Fort Worth, Texas.  So far, so good, a simple load in.  The tent went up, under the main tent.  Fort Worth is known for crazy winds, and they deal with this by putting up large tents that are roped to the pavement.  Artists squeak their 10' square tents into a 10' square spot, we are wedged in there so tight the wind would have to take all six tents, plus the main tent at the same time.  And we have good neighbors, that is important, nice neighbors.

Then panels, and weights, and paintings.  Lights, chairs, table, portfolio bin, more boxes, storage bins.  It's all set up, the van has gained several inches of height with the unloading of it all.  And we checked into the hotel, a charming hotel.  If your idea of charming is a cinder block building with saggy little beds.  But the sleepier I get, the better the bed looks, and trust me, we have been in far worse.  The good thing about this place is unlike most shows, we are within walking distance to the hotel.  And we found several good bars and restaurants between here and there. 

So we'll see you on Main Street in the morning!  I think I have the best looking show I have ever put together Ft. Worth, so come on down and take a look!

Black Betty (without the shine!)

It's pretty amazing the difference a decent photo makes, compare this image of Black Betty with the one a couple of posts down and you'll see what I mean. That's all I've got for you right now though. I'm pretty excited about "Birdbrain" on the easel, and I should go out there and see where she's headed!

The Arm Wrestle Ho Down.

That time has come again, the arm wrestle.

That's the time after I've given myself a break from the studio, but before I actually start painting again. I need a little break after a big push for a show. I have to clean the house, because it's usually been completely neglected, work in the yard a bit, catch up on all those errands I put off. I might even put stuff on etsy like I did a week or so ago. ( You can see the etsy shop at : http://www.etsy.com/shop/TheSpringGallery?ref=si_shop )

But now it's time to get back to work, it's been time to get back to work for a week or so. But instead, I have started the dance...the Arm Wrestle Ho Down.

Oh sure, I'll get a couple hours of work in a day, this week I've carved two little bird lino blocks, and printed about 50 of the little boogers on pattern paper last night. But really, that is about one day's work stretched into a week.

But, it's been sunny, and beautiful, and my garden has been weedy, and there is bread to bake and dog bellies to scratch. Oh, and a mosaic wall to fiddle with, but somehow that is too close to actually "getting something done" and has only been worked on in fits and starts. And naps to take.

But that annoying bitch in the back of my head is starting to mutter, and moan. She is loudest as I am trying to get to sleep at night. Chastising me for going to bed at a decent hour when I had a nap, and I really didn't get much done today. "You do have another show coming you know, you might want to have, oh I don't know...some inventory? A painting or two perhaps?" She is very sarcastic.

And of course, once I get the motor going, shake off the spring fever, and get immersed in making new work. I find a great rhythm. Scott knows to fend for himself, and I find this great peace. I think I am almost there. Boxes of canvases are coming in a few days, I am scratching down new ideas on scraps of paper everywhere.

But the tomatoes, I need to plant tomatoes.