(Parenthetical Project) 10

I find myself reflecting on the art of correspondence as I engage in the art of creating a postcard this morning, on the sacred and enduring place that written co-respondence with others holds in my life.

Two sentences embedded in Jane McCafferty’s novel One Heart catch my one heart and my notice. I parse them into a smile of a poem.

And I like checking 

the mail each day 

because it turns out 

Gladys is a letter writer. 

She doesn’t write so often, 

but the letters she does write, 

it’s worth the wait, 

if you can read the penmanship.

Clean and Sharp as Pepper
4 x 5.5" postcard, acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2021

(Parenthetical Project) 9

Each morning

a walking meditation

before dawn.

A mind-viewing

a moon-viewing

a sniffing of washed air.

A tasting of sharp wind-refreshment

a trickle of whisper in a storm drain

a stretching of calf muscles 

an aligning of spine

a striking of foot on street.

An attunement, 

an opening,

a flow.

Before the Agitations of the Day
4 x 5" postcard; acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2021

 

Faces 11

“Knucklehead.”

He said the word out loud

and saw a young boy

on the wharf close by

turn to look at him, startled.

This meant he was an old man

who was talking to himself

on a wharf in Portland, Maine,

and he could not—

Jack Kennison, 

with his two PhDs—

he could not

figure out 

how this had happened.

—Elizabeth Strout, Olive, Again 

The Friend Who Is an Exquisite Wordsmith
9 x 12"; acrylic, ink, and pastel on drawing paper
abstract face
2021
$45

Faces 10

Offsetting some of the loneliness and isolation of precautionary COVID-19 constraints, I make new friends in my studio—even if I have to conjure them myself from paint!

The Friend Who Isn't Afraid of My Pain
9 x 12"; acrylic, ink, and collage on drawing paper
abstract face
2021
$45

(Parenthetical Project) 8

Here's my Inauguration Day story. 

We have Dan the Man, a trusty tile guy (same guy who did a bathroom renovation for us), installing tile in our mudroom which directly abuts the kitchen where I usually eat. Because I want to watch/hear inauguration proceedings without tile-installation noise, I set up my lunch on a tray and take it to my study. 

I place the tray on the table there and start to reach for my laptop to get it set for inauguration viewing. The tray slides off whatever I perched it on, and almost everything on the tray slides off the tray, making more cacophony than any tile installation. 

Homemade soup (broccoli, chicken, kale, carrots, olive oil, bone broth, snow peas, and spinach) in a 20-ounce handpainted bowl; half an avocado; a serving of homemade cole slaw on a favorite ceramic plate; a small bowl of dried pumpkin seeds; a 16-ounce glass of water.

Onto a fabric-covered chair, an open heating grate, a pine floor with spaces between boards, and a decorative metal bowl filled with river stones and three votive candles.

Soup bowl loses a big fragment; plate breaks into pieces.

A peaceful transition of power. Go, Joe! Go, Kamala!

No Other World but This One
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2021

Turn Me Into Song, Sing Me Awake
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2021

(Parenthetical Project) 7

It can be, and often is, tremendously difficult for me to get past my own defenses to discover, identify, and fully own what I'm thinking, and then to let go as indicated of either resistance or clinging.

How is it that this difficulty, this resistance, this clinging can still surprise me?

How is it that I can still hide from myself so capably?

I Hear the Children in the Yard
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2021

(Parenthetical Project) 6

Coming up empty today—nothing to write.

Let go. 

Let in.

Downy Woodpecker Percusses an Improv Solo
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2021

 

After Flinging My Coat on a Chair
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2021

(Parenthetical Project) 5

I cut snippets from an acrylic skin I created several years ago. The skin consists of free-form scribbles made with fabric paint, dried thoroughly, over which I spread gloss gel medium, also left to dry thoroughly, thereby creating a plastic sheet or 'skin.' 

sample acrylic skins

I cut my snippets without knowing how or if they'll bring cohesion to my starts but, magically, they do. The random bits of scribble offer up something different from what I'd ever think to—or be able to—draw in context, and I can move them around first without having to commit. Win, win.

Though Not the Way You Planned It
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2021

(Parenthetical Project) 4

Saturday evening I collapse into several minutes of wholehearted full-bodied therapeutic cathartic tears-streaming laughter in response to the closing scene of Episode 10, Season 1, of Ted Lasso.

Grace on a day otherwise grouchy.

The Most Ancient Language
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2021

Close Both Eyes to See With the Other
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and collage
abstract
2021

(Parenthetical Project) 3

This, then.

The unmistakable beat

of beak on bark,

riveting me in place

to search out

the compelling provider of percussion,

my eyes and ears collaborating

in a pas-de-deux

until I locate

the whole world

in a downy woodpecker.

Where the Best Poems Grow
4.25 x 5.5" greeting card; acrylic, ink, and collage on paper
abstract
2021

(Parenthetical Project) 2

Not until just recently did I take notice that the root of the words parentheses (noun, plural), parenthesis (noun, singular), and parenthetical (adjective) is thesis. 

Huh.

Nor did I really know the etymology of the word thesis—late Middle English via late Latin from Greek, literally 'placing, a proposition,' from the root of tithenai 'to place.'

Parenthesis means 'a putting in beside,' from para- 'beside' + en- 'in' + tithenai 'to put, to place.

Yup, I'm putting one project in beside another.

A close-up glimpse of two of my parenthetical pieces in progress—

(Parenthetical Project) 1

“And you? What are you going to be when you grow up?”

In kindergarten, when the teacher asked this question,

Warren had answered with his plans for that afternoon—

the afternoon being as far into the future

as his five-year-old mind could imagine. Since then,

“What are you going to be when you grow up?”

had been Mia's and his way of asking about plans for the day.

Celeste Ng, Little Fires Everywhere

Warren! 

My hero!

What, you ask, do I want to be when I grow up? I want to be the artist who, this afternoon, interrupts her Abstract Faces series/class progress to start a parenthetical project of a different sort. 

How's that for grown up!

(parenthetical project),
twelve 4.5 x 6"starts, acrylic on drawing paper

Faces Sidebar

In reflecting back on any history I might have of drawing or painting faces, I made reference a few days ago to replicating a self-portrait originally drawn for the cover of my kindergarten report card. 

I painted an update some 60 years later, with two thoughts in mind. The first was to make a gift for my mom for her 86th birthday, something uncomplicated to express my love. Two months after her birthday she experienced a stroke that landed in the lap of her advancing dementia, and she moved to a nursing home. From the time of that birthday until her death eight months later, I made sure the framed painting was perched near her as a way to hug her when I wasn't present in person.

The other impetus behind that particular self-portrait was that the original conveyed such apparent ease of expression, confidence, and lack of self-consciousness, three feelings I wanted to develop as a no-longer-five-year-old painter. Ironically, for many reasons, the act of replicating was not one of ease, confidence, or lack of self-consciousness; I was very deliberately paying attention to detail and fussing to get the copy right! 

But that impetus to loosen up persisted. Enter Amanda Evanston's The Art of Abstract Faces course, a frank invitation to go wild! The kindergartner in me is revived!

birthday gift for Mom 2015

detail used for online profile picture

   
going wild

Faces 9

After my family moved to London in August 1967, one of my first tasks was to get busy raising hemlines so I could be part of the mini-skirt scene. Truth to tell, I raised the same hemlines more than once, going up an inch at a time until—I recall—I was sitting on the scant front edge of my seat in Miss Tranoy's Problems of Democracy class so as to have some miniscule bit of fabric between the tops of my legs and the chilly chair.

How funny is it that at the same time I was baring my legs and couldn't get my miniskirts short enough I was also pleased as punch to purchase a maxi-coat, a regal purple coat that went stylishly down to ankle length, barely leaving my stylishly trendy boots from the Way In shop at Harrod's visible!

Loved that coat.

Loved that purple.

The Friend Who Writes Letters Longhand
9 x 12"; acrylic, ink, pastel, and collage on drawing paper
abstract face
2021
$45
sold

Faces 8

Oh my gosh! Faces!

Who knew? 

I've never turned my attention to drawing/painting faces or portraits before. Well, that's not entirely true. I drew a self-portrait, as directed, for the front of my kindergarten report card. I drew a Raggedy Ann doll—replete with face—in a junior high school art class. I replicated my kindergarten self-portrait decades after kindergarten and now use it as my profile picture online. But that's all that comes to mind.

What was I waiting for?

In a day otherwise crowded with tasks and challenges, I drop out of rush-rush-rush, out of hurry-up, out of monkey-mind chatter, and into flow and inner stillness as I paint another abstract face today.

The Friend Who Voices Strong Opinions
9 x 12"; acrylic, ink, oil pastel, and collage on drawing paper
abstract face
2021
$45

---
art history

Faces 7

Praise the low January morning sunlight painting a textured illuminated stripe across the chair I picked up for free in front of what used to be a schoolhouse way back in the day and is now a home beside what next became the schoolhouse and is now an American Legion Hall.

Praise the air blowing from the heating ducts with a rushing sound, inciting the spathophylum leaves on a table above one duct to dance and warming me as I putter in the early minutes of a new day, preparing food, reading email, putting away silverware waiting for me on a towel on the counter beside a bowl of bright yellow lemons.

Praise the clutter on my yard-sale-table desk—the open poetry book napping with its spine up in the air, the gift card with notes scribbled all over it from a phone call, the nail clipper, the Posca paint markers, the jar of pencils acquired one by one from hair appointments at Locksmyth's, the partially finished painting, the kitchen timer that counts up and down, the magnet displaying the poison control phone number, the three-ring binder of lesson plans, the Gold Bond Ultimate Skin Therapy Cream.

 

The Friend Who Starts It All
9 x 12"; acrylic, ink, and pastel on drawing paper
abstract face
2021
$45

Faces 6

Simple pleasures:

• color-matching paint and print advertising

• tearing paper with quiet intention

• smoothing torn print onto painted paper, feeling the adhesion of one to the other as my finger glides through applied matte medium

The Friend Who Makes Awesome Art
From Found Objects
9 x 12"; acrylic, ink, oil pastel, and collage on drawing paper
abstract face
2021
$45

Faces 5

   chaos layer 

+ blind contour drawing 

+ neutral-ish background to bring face forward 

+ highlighting of one feature, maybe two         

   new territory

The Friend Who Is a Major Dog and Cat Person
9 x 12"; acrylic and ink on drawing paper
abstract face
2021
$45

Faces 4

What is it to be kind to yourself?

It’s to rest from wishing 

things were otherwise. 

They aren’t. 

Relaxing into what-is 

brings actual relief. 

Since something in us 

already knows the truth, 

to cease fighting it 

is restful. 

Jan Frazier, Be Kind to Yourself

Relief. 

One face at a time. Post as I'm ready. 

Start lesson two whenever I start lesson two.

Follow Amanda's model in titling my abstract face paintings. She calls her ongoing series Friends With Faces, and each title starts with the words The Friend Who.

Done.

The Friend Who Picks Up Aunt Bett at Logan
9 x 12"; acrylic and ink on drawing paper
abstract face
2021
$45

Faces 3

The rubber meets the road today with letting go so as to let in. 

The class I'm taking is self-paced, and today marks the day when my pacing and the pacing of the course diverge. 

For lesson one I created a dozen chaos-layer starts at Amanda's recommendation—and I can already feel the benefits of working several paintings, vs. just one—but I have brought only the first of those twelve to 'completion' just now, and lesson two landed in my inbox several hours ago.

My mind is buzzing with wanting to complete the other eleven—now! today!—wanting to figure out how I'll title this series, wanting to open lesson two and watch the videos, wanting to start lesson two … wanting, wanting, wanting.

Let go. Let in. All is well.

The Friend Who Turns Her Face to What Is
9 x 12"; acrylic and ink on drawing paper
abstract face
2021
$45

Faces 2

More blind contour hilarity!

works in progress, 9 x 12", acrylic and ink on paper

Faces 1

Blind contour hilarity on top of chaos layers!

Letting go, letting in!

Ferocious facial fun!

works in progress:

Blind Contour 3

Oh my gosh.

So much discovery, nourishment, surprise, focus, enjoyment, freedom from thought.

Same basic rules as previous two blind contour drawings of the houseplant in my study but with a couple of tweaks.

Same:

• look only at still life, not at paper

• use non-dominant hand

• hold pen loosely at top end

• do not lift pen from page

Tweaks:

• stand and view plant from different angle

• focus up close on less of the still life

• use a fine-tip UniBall pen

• draw for three minutes 

blind contour drawing
9 x 12"; UniBall fine-tip pen on drawing paper
2021

Blind Contour 2

• look only at still life, not at paper

• use non-dominant hand

• use Flair felt-tip marker (thinner than Sharpie of yesterday)

• hold marker loosely at top end

• do not lift marker from page

• draw for only 90 seconds

Gifts of limits: playfulness, surprise, engagement with the physicality of drawing, primitive linework, presence.

exercise: blind contour drawing
9 x 12"; Flair felt-tip marker on drawing paper
2021

Blind Contour

I invite myself to become a camera. An olive green ceramic pitcher sits before me with a potted plant set in it, a plant whose name escapes me if ever I knew it to begin with. I hold a Sharpie pen loosely, with my fingers as far away from its nib as possible. I press the pen lightly to a sheet of blank paper at my side and then look straight ahead at only the still life. I mentally pretend to run a finger around the edges of each part of the pitcher and plant while letting the pen come to life to enact that pretense.

How can I possibly put into words the magic that takes place? My eyes receive information from across a table, the information zips through neurons and synapses and who knows what else in my brain, my brain transmits signals to my pen-holding hand, my hand moves around the page.

In this way I 'take a picture.'

I am in awe.

Truly.

I love the exquisite intersection of intention and imprecision implicit in blind contour drawing. Is this an opportunity to let go so as to let in, or what!

Thank you, Amanda Evanston, for offering a class that feels just right for right now—self-paced lessons to open doors to new art adventures!

exercise: blind contour drawing
9 x 12"; Sharpie pen on drawing paper
2021

 

Chaos, Sweet Chaos

I spent yesterday painting base chaos layers to get energy flowing and activate sheets of drawing paper—starts for twelve separate paintings, ten of which are featured here.

Chaos, sweet chaos!