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 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

Black Betty

This is not the greatest photo in the world, shot in the studio leaning back against the wall. Please pardon the blinding shine, I will try again. But until then, here is "Black Betty." She is the same size as "Queen B." With the same number of canvases, just arranged slightly differently. The top three canvases are tree branches in an inky teal. The next one down features photo transfers of a repeated martini glass over silver leaf. "Black" is stitched through this canvas. Then the panel with the top of the dress, bulls eyes repeat in the background, and a damask pattern covers the dress. The original beading is shiny black, with beautiful texture. Then we are down to the glove, which is also dotted with bulls eyes, "betty" is painted in her palm. Finally the bottom canvas is also the bottom of the dress, the lining showing up the slit is covered in silver leaf and dotted with little photo transfers of flies.

She is a bit of a mystery isn't she? Black Betty will be heading to Main St. Fort Worth Arts Festival next month!

Queen B

I have started on a new piece, as I am waiting for it to dry, I suppose I'll write about this one.

"Queen B" is made of 7 canvases framed together to make a whole. In addition to the dress and glove, the only other materials used were acrylic paint and linoblock prints on rice paper. Three different linoblocks were carved for this piece. The damask pattern, which shows up on the top canvas, as well as the second from the bottom, the bee, and the crown. The apples were sketched and painted on black gesso. The little swarm of b's on the glove is mostly lines and text from sewing patterns. You can see a close up from that panel in my last blog post. One part you may not be able to see well is the pale bullseye in the palm of the glove. Visually connected to the swarm, it is a reminder that the Queen can hurt you. The lines swooshing around in the main background between the crowns are intended to mirror the lines in the swarm.

The next piece, currently all gooey and mucky in the studio is "Black Betty". She will be the same size as this one, 24" wide x about 74" high. Hopefully BB will be done in time to take a trip to The Gasparilla Festival of the Arts, next weekend in Tampa, FL. If all the linoleum block prints in this piece make you happy, take a look at my (elle)ements on website, www.thespringgallery.com Now, it's time for me to get back out there...

f i n a l l y !

It doesn't matter what you call it, painter's block, a creative slump, dragging yourself around in that personal pity party, it is an irritating place to be. So I say this, knocking on wood with my fingers crossed and all that, I think I am on the other side of it.

I have been busying myself, getting the odd piece done, preparing for that mental thaw. And finally, it came. It was almost like a damn bursting. Ideas would pop like lightning. One night I just kept scratching them down so they wouldn't evaporate the next day.

What changed? Well, I told myself that the time I spend in the studio is not called "working" anymore. Working is saying "Welcome to Walmart." Working is getting up before dawn, walking to the bus stop, and not getting home until it's dark again. Hanging in a warm studio in a robe, drinking tea, and painting, although not always easy, is what I have always wanted to do. I should be thanking my lucky stars that I can manage to do this. So now, I'll be in the studio painting, not working.

And one more thing, I have convinced myself to trust my hand again. For some reason I was getting tighter and tighter. At one point I looked down and realized I was working on a 2'x3' canvas with a tiny brush that had all of 10 hairs in it. Clinging to a photograph. It was like I had lost my damn mind. The first painting that I worked on after that I had to coach myself through. It was like having a little cheerleader in my head. "You can paint, make a mark, just do it. Loose, Fresh. Rahrahrah! Well it wasn't really like that, but sort of. And amazingly enough it did work.

So just like that, a rush of ideas. Three pieces in various stages of completion, and another on the way. The first one, below will be a new version of Wallflower. Still a long way to go, but she is coming along nicely...



And this one is a close up of a new "Plain Jane" This one is pretty much done, just a little "Assembly Required".


And this is a section of a piece called "Four Eyes" There are three other canvases that hang with it. Perhaps her name will make more sense when you see the whole group. But I love how the dress in this piece pretty much disappears. And it felt so good to paint this.

So now my plan is to finish these up and let you see them all in a few days. My only question to myself is why am I taking cool snowy blue paintings to Florida? Perhaps I have lost my mind! Come back in a few days and see what I'll be taking to Coconut Grove!

A night's work

I've been a little quiet lately. The dessert blog takes more energy than you'd expect, and I have a thousand excuses just like that one if you have time. But the thing is, I've had a lot of time off between shows, and I'm working towards building a new body of work. Nothing like that is simple. I've been sketching, and scribbling, making models. Having brilliant ideas and hating them the next day. And a for few days I've just settled down and done a little work. Tonight I carved a funky damask pattern into linoleum so I can use it stamp-like in an upcoming painting. Assembling the elements, getting ready for a big push. And I don't think I will know I can do it until it's done.

Distracted.

I have never been so distracted by the trees. Red light floods into my studio, burgundy reflecting the morning sun. The sky is so blue that it looks fake. I keep finding myself drawn outdoors, usually taking one more photo. It is supposed to freeze tomorrow night, and whatever chunk of landscape I miss today may be totally different in a few days. The colors of the trees have even found their way into my paintings. I wonder if this will fade in the winter. I hope not. This is probably why I am taking so many photos, trying to hoard the color.

Buttercup

Buttercup is the latest piece to come out of the studio. The dress was found at a great vintage clothing/costume shop in Austin, TX. The dress itself was so perfect it needed very little work, the velvet ribbon and thick lace are fabulous. The background is collaged linoblock prints on rice paper. The image of buttercups are repeated in varying tints and shades of yellow. The tricky part was the embroidery. It may be a little hard to see in the first picture, but it is front and center on the dress, so scroll down...

One of the best parts of being a "street artist" is getting to meet the folks who love and buy my work. And I have to tell you, I am really looking forward to meeting whoever buys "Buttercup." Talk about a conversation starter. Enjoy!

"Buttercup" is 30" x 40"

Attagirl

It's been a while since I've done an "attagirl." An "attagirl" from my Dad was the best thing ever. They were few and far between, you knew you deserved it when one came. While working on this piece I was thinking about two possibilities; a little girl brave enough to climb a tree, or the encouragement needed to learn to fly.

The tree branches are full of life, washes of color from mauve to yellows. Cut into with a semi opaque sky. "Attagirl is stitched through the canvas, right next to the yellow Pine Warbler.

24" square.

Nest

All other issues aside, I think I have made one of my more difficult to photograph pieces to date! "Nest" really does shine in person, unlike this flat image. But please bear with me, and maybe you'll be able to see it at a show near you.

This is a triptych, meaning it is 3 separate canvases that fit together. It's overall size is about 36" wide x 60" tall. Working from the background forward I started with a soft antique kind of blue, leaning towards the turquoise side, but a little bit dirty. The repeated pattern was created by carving the damask sort of pattern into a sheet of linoleum, it was inked just like a block print would be, with a roller, only the medium was acrylic paint.

For those of you who have known my work for many years, this may sound somewhat familiar. Some of the first pieces I ever exhibited were lino block prints. Perhaps I'll show some older pieces in my next post. In any case, I still love to carve linoleum, a slow process as one little curl after another peels off the knife. And I love the smell of the linseed oil in the linoleum.

So the block was "inked up" with paint, deep gray at first, and stamped like a big rubber stamp. The process was repeated for each block, allowed to dry, then I repeated the process, this time in creamy white. The blocks don't register tightly on one another, the white ones wiggle a little allowing the gray to show.

The nest itself was found in a rose bush in our front yard, cardinals come and build a new one each year. I photographed it and had them enlarged to this size and used an acrylic transfer process to get them on the canvas. I was originally only intending to use one, but the painting begged for more.

The dress was laid down on top of all this background, a vintage 50's house dress with a Swiss dot texture that shows through the paint and a little floral lace trim. And painted the "starter home" plan on top. With all the "bonus rooms" and "media rooms" in today's house plans it was fun to look at how they were laid out in the '60's when two bathrooms was considered a little extravagant!

NEST was stitched through the top with embroidery floss, and filled in with a little translucent yellow paint. Sometimes I think of nest as a noun, other times as a command, it changes the flavor of the piece significantly.

So what is the point? Well I was brought up in an era of "hope chests" and "starter homes." My nesting instinct was encouraged from a very early age. And I'm really not all that sure how I feel about it. So I often come around and take a little poke at the issue. Is it instinctive, like birds building nests? Is it taught through china patterns and paint samples? Is it just brilliant marketing?

Creating a home, a place of my own, is like a constant art project mixed with a search for comfort and peace. But others seem to be much happier constantly migrating, or need little more than one room with a bed and a TV. How does this happen?

This piece I'm sure will wind up in the home of someone with a great nesting instinct, art collectors often are "nesters," and I hope it brings a little comfort and peace, and introspection on how and why it got there. Enjoy!

My Sketchbook

It was my first art teacher, in the eighth grade, who preached the importance of having a sketchbook. As a place to work on your drawing skills, and to work out ideas. And I have always had one, sometimes used every day, and sometimes not for months. But I always had one around somewhere. The only thing that has changed, is how I use it.

At first, as a teen, I would pour over every drawing in there, I couldn't stand to show my work to anybody if the whole book wasn't perfect. And of course it was never perfect. Blind and partially blind contour drawings were my favorite things to do. Watercolor or ink sketches wrinkled up the pages. But I always thought of my sketchbook had to be a series of finished works.

Not now.

Now I rarely sketch, the most I ever do is a reasonably accurate line drawing of how I envision a commission to come together for a client. Now my sketchbook is there mostly just to take visual notes. These quick little 3" or so square squiggles in ballpoint pen map out the little thoughts about how to put a painting together. Scrawled notes with arrows poke into the drawing with instructions that aren't apparent in the sketch..."soft warm gray background." Just to jog my memory. My sketchbook is full of these little blocks, often working out ideas for a painting over and over again in different forms. And eventually, as I flip through all the ideas looking for one to basically blossom, boom, there it is! That idea, and this one a few pages back, all of a sudden just fit together.

And the sketch usually gets me about 3/4 of the way through a painting, the last 1/4 is the hard part though. The discussions and negotiations with the painting directly in front of you. But that's another story.

My favorite thing about my sketchbook now is how it serves as a journal. I don't think about it at all when I'm drawing in it, or making a list of whatever. But when I occasionally come across an old sketchbook, from last year or the last decade, my memory is taken on a bit of a ride, without having specific references to the outside world. Try it, put what you want in it, and don't think you have to show it to anybody!

And just as a note, the two lino blocks peeking in at the top of the page are elements from a commission I am working on. "Queen Bee" I think she'll come together just fine!

Ideas

A question I hear over and over at art shows is "how do you come up with all these ideas?" It always sort of takes my by surprise, because I guess I never think I have enough. I am always building piles of new ideas, in my head, in my sketchbook, on scraps of paper beside the bed. They come in the form of photographs, scribbled notes, random sketches.

Walking the familiar route from studio to kitchen this past winter the buds on my dogwood tree caught my eye.



The contrast is what caught me, they tell you in art school that the human eye registers contrast between light and dark faster than any other aspect, even bright colors.

So I went in to grab the camera and made a few shots. All the while little birds were out fluttering in the chilly air. So here I was out shivering in the cold, while they were out doing whatever little birds do. And, well, I can't carry on with this thought much further without sounding like a complete nut. Suffice it to say I must have been heavily influenced by Disney's Dr. Doolittle as a child, I wish from the bottom of my heart that I could talk to these little creatures. In fact I do talk to them, all forms of animals, lizards, dogs, frogs, birds, even bugs on occasion, so I guess what I really wish is that they could understand, or even talk back!

So as I watched the birds, it dawned on me one was gathering bits for a nest. And I was simply cheering her on, "attagirl" as my father would say.

This is the second I've done like this, the earlier one can be seen a page or so back in this blog. The bird is a pine warbler, not the same as the little brown bird that was building it's nest, but a later visitor. And who knows, this may be a male, being such a bright yellow, but I'm still going with "attagirl." And if you need to see it, I have my artistic licence in my wallet somewhere!

Attagirl is 24" square and has sold!

Ragamuffin

Ragamuffin has finally declared herself finished! Like most of my paintings, I don't begin with a solid plan on what the finished piece will look like. I start with a few elements, and work from there. Adding more, and tweaking this or that as time goes on. (This process makes my artist husband more than a little mental I might add, as we work in very different ways!)

This piece began as a collision between the name, something my mother said to my sister and I on more than one occasion, "You look like a couple of ragamuffins!" And a photo I found in a second hand shop in Atlanta. The bare feet and wild hair connected with me immediately. These elements paired perfectly with a dress I'd had on the back burner for quite some time.

The dandelion relates back to another phrase I often heard as a child, "You're growing like a weed!" I assume it was always meant as a complement? But I was never sure...

The dress itself is adorned with dots made with glazes of color altering the purple base, which makes for a related, fairly neutral, yet interesting palette. Several more layers of paint, and stitching the name in with embroidery floss, and she finally made me smile.

You should see all the things I do in the studio, trying to see a painting "fresh" after working on it for several days. Hang it in a different spot, whirl around and look at it quickly after taking a break, squinting...it probably looks quite comical from the outside!

Well, enough chatter, deadlines are calling. Today I start on a new "smarty pants" and I'm quite excited about her, she should be up by next week!