Saturday, December 26, 2020

Boxing Day

There are competing theories for the origins of Boxing Day, none of which, evidently, is definitive. In any case, December 26, the day after Christmas, is called Boxing Day in many countries and plays out in several different ways. 

Today, I have my own definition. In my neighborhood, Boxing Day and trash/recycling collection day overlapped this year. Not only that, but also—on the very same day!—I was in need of a box of a certain size to use as a containment space in which to place a painting in progress, load my brush with loose wet paint, and let go with splatters. 

Imagine the curbside selection I had as I took a two-mile walk early this morning! Square boxes, rectangular boxes, taped boxes, flattened boxes, boxes stuffed with bubble wrap and crumpled gift wrap, tidy boxes, torn boxes, shirt boxes, appliance boxes.

The splatters I splattered fascinate me. They make no 'sense' in terms of content in the abstracted treescape here, but they totally saved this little exercise, an exercise offered generously online yesterday by Amanda Evanston to those who might be having a quiet holiday and wanting to pick up a brush to play with paint. Splattering kept me on track with my goal to be loose and quick in my playing (it was a close call!), and my trusty new box kept me from splattering anything beyond my painting playground.

Happy Boxing Day!

Lichen-Rusted Kaffeeklatsch
6 x 6"; acrylic, ink, oil pastel, and pencil on canvasboard
abstract treescape
2020
$75

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art history:

 8/1/15

10/12/20

12/23/20

Boxing Day 2020!



Wednesday, December 23, 2020

Attending, Befriending

OK, let's roll with unanchored, distractible, impulsive, unfocused, droopy, in a fog. Let's see what that-all looks like if I situate myself in my studio.

work in progress
adding new layers to layers added in October
on top of a painting originally done in 2015 
6 x 6" canvas board






 

Monday, December 21, 2020

Word(s) of the Day (10)

Today's words come from Ann Patchett's novel Commonwealth, words that sparked me to laugh out loud as I sat reading all alone in my otherwise silent home on a gray December Monday.


We went to a gas station over on Olympic. 

Not close but close enough. 

The guy who owned the place 

spent real money on his coffee 

and he taught all the kids who worked for him 

the importance of dumping it out 

and making a fresh pot. 

People would drive an extra couple of blocks 

to buy their gas from a guy 

who had good coffee. 

It wasn't like it is today 

where there's nobody to fill up your tank 

but you can get a goddamn cappuccino.



At the Edge of the Sound of My Footsteps
30 x 30"; acrylic, collage, ink, and oil pastel on canvas
abstract landscape
2020
$850

Tuesday, December 8, 2020

Tuesday, December 1, 2020