Seeking Story

I need an enclosure card to place in an envelope with a check. I open a drawer in my studio, pull out a folder, find a postcard-sized start. Didn't really like where it was going at the time, couldn't think what to do to rescue develop it, tucked it away. Don't even remember when that was.

Today it presents itself with just enough of a new light that I think, Huh. Maybe some neurographic lines. Then, Maybe some meandering asemic writing. Finally, Maybe a few white veiling scribbles.

Yup. 

Gonna stop there and put this little layered and enlivened bit of line and lettering into an envelope and let it head south.

The Story Is Inside If I Know What to Look For
3.5 x 5.5"; acrylic and ink on paper
abstract neurographic
2022

Currents Flowing Beneath the Surface

Fluent

  John O’Donohue

I would love to live

Like a river flows,

Carried by the surprise

Of its own unfolding.

---

Surprises of my own unfolding:

(a) A Chance to Risk Everything Without Being Injured or Deposed
(b) Everything Makes Itself Apparent at the Appropriate Time
1.5 x 5.5 bookmarks; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on paper
abstract
2022

Along the Way

Demarking found compositions, two more bookmarks :

(a) I Can Effect Positive Change in My Life!
(b) Permission to Make Mistakes Along the Way
1.5 x 6" bookmarks; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel
abstract
2022

Spur of the Moment

I need a little something by way of 'presentation' for a couple of cash gifts we'll be handing out on Christmas Eve. Without even realizing I've set an intention, I find myself in my studio, sheet of sandwich paper pulled out, paints selected, brush in hand, audiobook playing.

wrapping paper

wrapped!

The Way It Is

One morning you might wake up

to realize that the knot in your stomach

had loosened itself and slipped away,

and that the pit of unfilled longing in your heart

had gradually, and without your really noticing,

been filled in—patched like a pothole, not quite

the same as it was, but good enough.

And in that moment it might occur to you

that your life, though not the way

you planned it, and maybe not even entirely

the way you wanted it, is nonetheless—

persistently, abundantly, miraculously—

exactly what it is.

—Lynn Ungar

---

And so it is with these found-composition bookmarks.

(a) Wandering the Banks of Ancient Rivers Like the Waccamaw
(b) Feeling Warm Pluff Mud Squirt Beneath My Toes
1.5 x 6" bookmarks; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on paper
abstract
2022

Serendipity and Grace

Back in August I created a hand-painted, self-folded 'sketchbook,' whipped up a partial design for its cover, and proceeded over the course of a few days to rustle up experimental content for the first two of the sketchbook's three two-page spreads.

I ran out of steam for the last spread. No ideas presented themselves for consideration. I pondered and wondered and mused and kept myself open to forward motion. Nothing.

So I propped the book up on a countertop in my studio to allow for percolation. The book ended up traveling to new locations. Still nothing. It eventually got tucked into a folder and placed in a drawer.

Then, four months down the road: something!

It Is Up to You to Recognize Help When It Arrives
4.5 x 6" two-page sketchbook spread; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel
abstract
2022

For the Record

If I post a painting here, with a title, with its size and media specs, and with a date, it will implicitly and explicitly announce itself as a completed painting. You will most likely see it as a completed painting. You will like it or not. You might click on it to put it in viewfinder mode so you can get an in depth view of its nooks and crannies. Your eye might explore for a bit of time, or for more than a bit of time. Then you'll move on till I post again with either a new work in progress or new completed painting.

I'm going to post a piece here today as a completed painting. I want a record of it as it is right now, because it could be complete, if I say so.

Well, and if it says so. But it keeps telling me it is not. Even though it isn't telling me specifically what step to take, it is asking me to risk 'wrecking' it by doing something. I'm going to have to figure that out by a process of making changes and taking chances.

For right now, though, I present to you

Open for Business

11 x 14"; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on paper

abstract

 2022

Plus and Minus

I set out a few weeks ago to practice addition and subtraction while painting.

And that is precisely what I've been doing of late.

In the process I've discovered with new awareness that visual subtraction often takes place, ironically, by means of addition. Though much may be obscured from view, nothing actually gets taken away. Though I repeatedly have to let go, nothing is ever truly lost.

A bit of the history of this piece:

Look Behind, Underneath, In the Corners, Off the Page

4.75 x 5.5"; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on paper

abstract

2022

Enough Space

I can't find words to pin to the process here, can't find words for all the ways nothing about this piece is what I 'had in mind' to paint when I started.

Maybe that's the point.

The language here is visual, not verbal. The painting comes only in a very small way from my mind.

I sit here now walking around this piece with my eyes, taking an unexpected tour of mystery—inner mystery, artistic mystery, the mystery of the universe.

I got stuck so many times. I got stuck in so many ways. Fear and resistance yammered at me, taunted me. I considered stopping, considered letting whatever was on the page in the moment be sufficient as an exercise.

But I kept returning. The painting kept calling me back. 

I let fear and resistance yammer at me and run roughshod around my studio as I tried out new tools from the courses I've been taking. I made space for not-knowing, trusting that not-knowing held energy and gifts to move me forward.

And forward I moved! To a painting that scratches a wordless itch and feels complete.

Enough Space Hides in Plain Sight to Hold All We Need
11 x 5.75"; acrylic, ink, collage, and oil pastels
on paper canvas
abstract
2022

More in Real Time

I decided to peel off the painter's tape with the intent to cut what was originally going to be a single piece into four smaller pieces. 

Peeling the tape from this work-in-progress was different from my usual experience of peeling tape away because I don't usually divide an already-started piece with tape and keep working on it as I did in this case.

Check this out:

underlayers of a work-in-progress revealed; 
cruciform format takes stage

Having peeled the tape, I lifted the arm of my paper trimmer and removed what is the center vertical runway in the photo above.

I fully intended to keep trimming, and still do, but I've granted myself 24 hours to be mesmerized by the two resulting pieces before making those cuts.

work in progress A

work in progress B

The Long Way Home

"Fear lives in the head.

And courage lives in the heart.

The job is to get

from one to the other."

"And between the two

is the lump in the throat,"

said Gamache.

    —Louise Penny, The Long Way Home

Naples yellow, Paynes gray, white gesso, a week-long on-again-off-again conversation, lots of time in the lump-in-the-throat space, and now a pause again. 

Will I finish these compositions while they're still on a single sheet of paper separated only by painter's tape, or will I pull off the tape, cut the page into its four components, and complete each individually? I'm going to live with that question a little longer.

work in progress

Capturing Work in Progress

Three weeks ago on Hallowe'en, I started marking up a sheet of white canvas paper with black line work. Got attached, couldn't move forward in the moment, set the page aside.

A week or so later I made some additions. Pressed paused again.

    

Then, over the weekend, I felt a surge of creative energy, taped the page into rough quadrants, and got rolling again.

work in progress

Some artists post reels in which they use time-lapse high-speed photography, giving you the chance to witness their painting process in seconds. I, on the other hand, have never made a reel in my life. Not only that, but also my blog posts turn out to offer you s l o w - m o t i o n still photography, sometimes at the rate of one frame per several weeks, demonstrating my process in real time, not reel time! Thanks for coming along for the ride stroll.

Running With Scissors

 

scribbles, dabs of paint

b&w line exploration—
add, subtract, freeze

oh! snip, snip!

Loosen the Story Knot
5.5 x 7"; acrylic, ink, gelato stick, oil pastel, and collage
on paper
abstract floral
2022

Not in Control. Ever.

Pieces of paper. 

With paint and ink on them. 

In process.

Incomplete.

I'm knotted up. Frozen in place.

If I keep myself from taking a next step because I want to avoid creating something I don't like and can't undo, then I will continue to have these pieces of paper. 

With paint and ink on them.

In process.

Incomplete. 

I could cling to them as they are.

I could throw them away (which, ironically, would be a bold step for me). 

OR I could change them in some way.

And then see what happens next.

Lucky me to have my online art friend Lola as a mentor.

I can feel an internal knot shaking loose …

Back to B&W Addition & Subtraction

I build up b&w #1 with linework and more linework—fat lines, delicate lines, and middle weight lines; sharp edges and rough edges; straight lines, curved lines, lyrical lines, and neurographic lines; using paint, ink, graphite crayon, markers, brushes, dip pen, and my fingers. 

Then I let this exploration sit, not wanting to let go of one bit of it. Every single line is precious!!

b&w #1 at the height of its original additions

Today I finally return to subtract. Mystifyingly difficult for me but I like where I land.

b&w #1, after subtractions

I could walk away and move on to other explorations, but deep inside I know this piece is asking for something further. A bold step of some sort.

Change of Direction

Was poking around looking at art online a few nights ago, bumped into a piece at DailyPaintWorks by an artist named Mary Ellis, and just had to change direction from my current exploration of b&w linework to try my hand at an appropriation. I'd earlier bumped into a stack of 6x6" canvas board paintings on which I'd painted over the original works with chaos layers, and I'd been hankering to do some negative space painting using those chaos layers, and suddenly here was inspiration! Thank you for waking me up to explore something new, Mary!

Ready, set, go!

Same Place, Different Day
6/12/2016

chaos layers painted on top of
Same Place, Different Day
October 2020 (I think)

This Holy Instant
6 x 6"; acrylic, ink, and oil pastel on canvas board
figurative
2022
appropriation, after Mary Ellis, DailyPaintWorks.com,
thank you!

Subtraction/Addition Exercise #3

From No Happy Endings by Nora McInerny: 

The first rule of improv is YES. 

Well, YES, AND …  

the AND is important. 

YES is acceptance and acknowledgment 

of the reality you've been handed. 

AND is where the good part happens. 

The good part is a conjunction? 

You bet it is. 

Because AND is about possibility and opportunity. 

AND includes WHAT IS 

and makes room for WHAT COULD BE. 

AND doesn't require you to love the situation, 

or to like the situation; 

it just requires you to live.

Nora McInerny's book is entitled No Happy Endings, but, just as I finished quoting her above, I bumped into Orson Wells who says:

If you want a happy ending, 

that depends, 

of course, 

on where you stop your story.

So, I said YES to b&w exercise #3, accepting and acknowledging the line work that had brought it to this point:

.

Then I said AND … after which I brought it here:

Subtraction/Addition Exercise #4

 Last seen looking like this,

,

exploration #4 has transformed to become something else.

As is the case with exploration #2, this is where it has landed for now, it may not change further, and all comments, observations, and critique are welcome.

Addition + Subtraction = Decision Overload!

 I think this is where the maximum addition of line stopped before I began subtraction with Exercise #2:

I began veiling, covering, shaping, trying this, trying that. The decision-making was unrelenting. I'm exhausted!

Exhausted, but committed to poking around this assignment. I feel awkward and clumsy. I feel as though I have no rudder. I'm exhausted!

Exhausted, but intrigued by how challenged I feel and by the discoveries and learning that go hand in hand with not knowing what the heck I'm doing.

After many subtractions and probably as many new additions, with the pluses and minuses tripping all over each other, #2 has landed here for now. 

Have I told you I'm exhausted?

All comments/observations welcome!

#2, after math lab!

Today's Black: India Ink

Simone Nijboer's newsletter this morning fires me up to use India ink and a dip pen. The unpredictability of that kind of pen calls out to me as does the spontaneity and freedom with which Simone paints.

So, I pop into my studio on this gloriously sunny and deliciously warm November afternoon with windows wide open, insert a nib into a wooden holder, open a bottle of India ink, and add line work to one of my b&w exercises. 

I also poke around Wikipedia: 

• Basic India ink is composed of a variety of fine soot, known as lampblack, combined with water to form a liquid. No binder material is necessary: the carbon molecules are in colloidal suspension and form a waterproof layer after drying.

• Woods and Woods (2000) state that the process of making India ink was known in China as early as the middle of the 3rd millennium BC, in Neolithic China, whereas Needham (1985) states that inkmaking commenced perhaps as early as 3 millennia ago in China. India ink was first invented in China, but the English term India(n) ink was coined due to their later trade with India.

#5

Staying in the Game

 Big brush additions to b&w #4.

#4

More B&W

 Still in the additive phase with my buncha b&w's.

#3

B&W Unlimited

I've committed myself to working on five black and white play-with-lines-and-markmaking exercises simultaneously. Today I add to each, show you #2, and share a volunteer composition that manifested on our front storm door glass.

#2

volunteer b&w with lines composition

Elementary School

I'm dialing way back to play with design elements. 

First, line. 

Black only. 

On white paper canvas. 

The idea: to play freely without intention to do other than get a mess of lines on paper.

So what do I do? I make a few lines, freely and joyfully, and then, in next to no time, I feel attached. 

I freeze up.

hahahahaha!

Well, let's see where this all goes.

For now, just adding bits as I am able.

 

Dynamic Decor

Another addition to my three-finger floral series inspired by a free class offered by Amanda Evanston some weeks back.

Nothin' like having a fresh flower arrangement to create some dynamic energy in the otherwise barely-noticed landscape of everyday clutter passing as decor!

A Splash of Noise and Cheerful Garishness
4 x 5.5"; acrylic, ink, oil pastel, and collage
on paper canvas mounted on card stock
abstract floral
2022

Exquisite Tension

If pressed, I'd probably say I carry the word tension in my mind with a negative connotation.

And yet, the exquisite tension intrinsic to the creative process of painting is precisely what pulls me back over and over again to my studio. That tension lives in a place between pain and pleasure that is compelling. Positive. 

I'm grateful to have kept experimenting with this particular painting.

I'm grateful for the physical properties that allow for surface tension on water and the gift of autumn leaves that perform a delicate dance on the stage of a pond.

Humming a Ditty
5.5 x 8"; acrylic, ink, watercolor pencil, oil pastel, and collage 
on heavy card stock
abstract landscape
2022

Surprises and Changes in Direction

Scribbling my way to wherever this painting may take me.

scribbles in progress

Morning Mist

Experiment.

My eyes land on a sheet of sandwich paper onto which I've recently blotted some diluted white paint from another piece. The sandwich paper has dried to a somewhat lacy effect. I affix it to my current what-if exploration.

!

work in progress
5.5 x 8.25"; acrylic, ink, oil pastel, and collage
on textured heavy card stock

 

Ugly Duckling

I neglected to take a photo of the start for this piece. It was soft swirls of pale blue and lavender that came from cleaning my brush after painting one afternoon while talking on the phone with long-time friend and artist Sylvia. 

I picked up the start yesterday with mark-making as my game plan. After quickly throwing scribbles, lines, dots, and dashes into place over the course of a few minutes, here's where I ended up.

Nothing about it calls to me. 

It's no more than 5 x 7". It served a purpose as a vehicle for transporting me into flow for awhile, and I could easily pitch it now, move on, and probably forget it altogether.

Or I could stash it with other pieces I've abandoned, pieces that do often come to life in some unexpected way days, months, or years later.

But I've been surprised way more than once when I've been able to turn a piece that offends my eye into something that I end up liking. A lot. 

I'm going to fiddle with this one a little more to see what might emerge, and I'll try to remember to document the process. 

I have to say, though, right now, the trash seems like a perfectly reasonable option.