Grain by Grain

The word granite comes from the Latin granum, a grain, in reference to the coarse-grained structure of such holocrystalline rock. Granite consists of feldspar, quartz, mica, and amphibole minerals which form an interlocking, somewhat equigranular matrix.

Grain by grain today, a matrix of feldspar and quartz comes together, with scattered darker biotite mica and amphibole peppering the lighter-color minerals.

Then, grain by grain, the matrix develops cracks and brittle discontinuities along which the sides pull apart as splits open.

bookmark in process

Rockin' My Painting

How to create granite—a felsic intrusive igneous rock that is granular and phaneritic in texture—from the lava and magma in my studio?

I get a little melting, cooling, solidification, and cracking underway today.

Kinda fun to work in geologic time.

bookmark in process

The Wild Atlantic

I started this piece when I dipped my toes into water(colors) back in August.

Last week I dove all in to finish the piece as a bookmark. Before long, though, I got in over my head—one moment I was swimming around happily, adding marks here, color there; the next moment I used a paint marker that turned out to be too thick and found myself in a riptide of perceived wreckage.

Instant resistance, panic, thrashing, sinking: noooooooo!

But grace washed over me. I rediscovered that the same water in which I sink when I struggle in fear also supports me once I let go of fighting and rely on my oneness with it, which is buoyancy.

Buoyant, I move into open seas of wild possibility.

Waves Tapping Sea-Worn Rocks
1.5 x 6"; watercolor and acrylic marker on watercolor paper,
mounted on card stock
abstract bookmark
2018
[sold]

A Slice of a Slice

Michael Singer asserts, Life exists with or without you. It has been going on for billions of years. You simply get the honor of seeing a tiny slice of it.

Today's tiny slice of a tiny slice:

Don't Ask Me How or Why
1.75 x 6"; acrylic, ink, collage, and pastel
abstract bookmark
2018
[sold]

Spinning Around on a Ball of Dirt

How crazy is it to be spinning around on a huge ball of dirt within a vast illimitable universe? And, if the universe is illimitable, then how come it is believed to have a 'measurement' of a diameter of at least 10 billion light years?

Further, if it is ceaselessly expanding, as is also believed, then there must be 'room' for it to do so. There must be some bigger something in which it resides … yes? Does that something have a limit, an 'end'? How can it? How can it not?

Pretty soon my brain can make no sense of any of it.

I remember the first time I contemplated infinitude. I was falling asleep one night in Cranford, NJ, at about age seven.

I couldn't make sense of illimitability then either.

But I digress.

I painted today. Some of the abundant energy of the universe flowed in and out of me in a steady stream.

Heaven!

She Doodled With a Fine-Tip
1.75 x 6"; acrylic and ink on drawing paper,
mounted on card stock
abstract
2018
[sold]

On Notice

Noticing.

Noticing how much of every day is given over to reacting.

Noticing how I see experiences as 'good' or 'bad.'

Noticing all the stories I make up.

Noticing how I attach myself to the good, the bad, the stories.

Noticing how tremendous is the challenge to let it all pass through.

---

I did paint a few times while in our log cabin in West Virginia. Today, I took one of those starts and made it into a finish—a bookmark!

Thornton Isn't the Only Place Anymore
1.75 x 6"; acrylic, latex, and collage on watercolor paper,
mounted on card stock
abstract bookmark
2018
[sold]

Complete vs. Completed

I see this piece as an outward manifestation of a burst of inward tumult. It is not a completed painting. That would be something different. It is what I'd call a complete self-expression.

The inward tumult has passed through, as inward tumults do. It is complete. It has, however, left a vapor trail, traces of having blown past.

Most likely I will pick up this scrappy, rough, hand-me-down canvas again sometime and do something else with it. For now, perched on my dresser, it provides refreshing 'visual cacophony' in my bedroom.

The Cacophony of Birds at Dawn
16 x 20"; acrylic, latex, ink, collage, and oil pastel on canvas
abstract
2018

Grateful to be Tugged

The canvas I worked on last Wednesday, a free canvas already painted previously by someone else and set out for grabs in their yard about a year ago, tugged at me off and on over the past few days. I let myself be tugged.

'tug in progress'
detail

Cloudy with Bursts of Sunshine

I am feeling befuddlingly off-stride, out-of-sync, disconnected, scattered, and unfocused.

I haven't even unpacked my art supplies in the five days since our trip away, a trip during which painting—to my surprise—didn't settle into my bones and heart.

Nor has painting jumped back into my bones and heart since our return.

However, here's a little piece I made just before we traveled that wants to show itself off.

I took one of my Monhegan Island watercolor paintings that felt decidedly awkward and clumsy in the creating.

And look! It turned into a dazzling accordion-fold pocket book! The pages are tucked into the pockets, where the excerpt copied onto them from a children's picture book becomes an exquisite little prose poem that reveals itself one line at a time.

An October Wednesday

Today unfolded as a string of embodied engaged moments of presence for which I feel tremendous gratitude. Today was a day out of time, a day of grace.

Late in the afternoon, the urge to paint beckoned me for the first time in days and days.

My lived experience of this Wednesday in October expressed itself in color-mixing and mark-making and brushstrokes.

work in progress,
16 x 20"; acrylic on canvas

Dish of Milk

A frequent dessert when I was a young child was chocolate pudding prepared in individual bowls and served with milk poured on top. My dad would often carry my bowl from counter to table, saying, "Here's your dish of milk, Dotty!" I'd laugh and laugh, dip my spoon below the layer of milk, and prove him wrong by lifting a scoop of pudding.

Except for the time when he actually did give me a dish of milk.

Cruel, I tell ya!

---

When prepping for my recent West Virginia vacation, one item I packed was the hand-painted anniversary card I'd made for Dave—another card made from a painting started on Monhegan Island in August.

On the 11th, I pulled it out to perch at his place on the table.

Turns out that, although I carefully wrote his name on the envelope and carefully placed the envelope in a protective folder for safe travel, I left the card itself under the cover of our scanner at home.

Dish of milk!

anniversary card
4 x 5.5"; watercolor, acrylic pen, and water-soluble pastels on canvas paper,
mounted on card stock
abstract
2018
[gift]

Juxtaposition

The day before I went on vacation to Virginia and West Virginia, with all sorts of packing and other last-minute details and tasks crowding my every moment, I popped down to the basement to add a bath towel to the wash I'd just started.

Discovered an unfolding event. A jumbo-sized container of liquid laundry detergent had fallen to the floor, landing on and shattering its cap. I arrived to see a mess of concentrated (2x the power!) detergent spreading viscously onto and soaking through a piece of indoor-outdoor carpet, the 'lake' already larger than the circle I could make with my arms if I stretched them out.

Oh.

A welcome juxtaposition: making a card using a watercolor-turned-mixed-media exploration from my time on Mohegan Island in August. Sweet!

birthday card
4 x 5.5"; watercolor, acrylic pen, and water-soluble pastels on canvas paper,
mounted on card stock
abstract
2018
[gift]

Crossin' the Mason-Dixon Line

By the time you read this post I will have crossed the Mason-Dixon Line for one of my favorite vacations of the year.

Dave and I have headed south to celebrate our wedding anniversary. We'll enjoy five days and nights at a West Virginia State Park—replete with simple cabin built in the 1930's, big ol' stone fireplace, all the firewood we could want, and miles and miles of trails to hike—way out in the middle of nowhere. Bookending our time in the wilderness we'll hang out with our daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughters in Virginia. Doesnt get any better than that!

I've packed a travel art kit but, as was the case last time I vacationed, I don't know what shape these vacation days will take—will I paint? what will my wifi situation be? will I post online?

Once again, heading to Don't Know!

Below, a placeholder until I return.

color study on unstretched canvas
2014

Changes in Elevation

Dave and I will be doing miles of hiking in the mountains of West Virginia next week. I will love all the hiking … but I'll love the level parts of the trails more than the steep parts.

Meanwhile, I've done plenty of steep with this bookmark.

Remember when I said I didn't do a trial run with the masking fluid ahead of time? Because, you know, I was impatient?

Joke was on me.

Turns out I did three trial runs—directly on the bookmark itself.

The first time, the masking fluid was poorly mixed. I rubbed it off after it dried. No harm, no foul.

The second time, the masking fluid was well-mixed but awkwardly applied. Ugly mark-making. I rubbed it off … and it took with it most of the text I wanted to protect. Sigh.

The third time, with repairs made, mark-making to my liking, and negative spaces painted, I rubbed off the masking fluid, only to lose key collage bits once again.

So much to learn.

Several more uphill climbs and one sweet downhill run later, however: a bookmark!—the third and final in my Brené Brown Dare to Lead series.

As If Feelings Finally Made Any Difference at All
1.5 x 6"; acrylic, collage, and oil pastel on watercolor paper
abstract bookmark
2018
[not for sale]

Just Enough Time

Very busy day—again!—with another long list of tasks.

Made time to go to my studio anyway, knowing I'd only have a few minutes but happy for whatever I could get.

Notice the differences between where I left off yesterday (left) and where I left off today (right).

    

Turns out I had just enough time to get myself … nowhere.

I tried my hand at using masking fluid I'd purchased some months ago. Impatient, as always, I did so without doing any kind of test run.

I did read and follow the directions, which included the instruction to rinse the applicator clean after use. To the sink I went.

Whaaaaat??!

Inside the bottle I saw not the clear thin fluid I'd applied but a thick coagulated substance that looked like liquid 'foundation' makeup (and well you might ask how I would know what makeup looks like).

Sooooo. I'll let the bookmark dry and see what sense I can make of things tomorrow.

Pulling the Oars, Testing the Waters

I row a little farther out into the unknown waters of my current bookmark-in-progress—collaging, color-mixing, painting, tearing paper, gluing, reading directions for masking fluid.

Surface conditions start to get a little choppy. Whitecaps whip up.

I toss an anchor.

Gonna sit tight for a bit.

bookmark-in-progress

17-Minute Painting Hat

I wear many hats. Today, it seems as though I wore each one more than once, often for only a few minutes before I had to switch to the next.

I did put on my painting hat just long enough to take bookmark #3 from my current series and develop it a bit, focusing mostly on color-mixing and seeing how close I could get to where I want to go.

Got closer.

Went from here to here: