These Littlest of Pointers

 So much gratitude when I notice the littlest things: 

    • the miniature tchotchke Meg gave me years ago—a half-inch-high wooden planter holding tiny faux sprigs of pussywillow perched on my desk beside a miniature wooden bench on which two dollhouse figures sit smiling at me;

    • garlic bulbs whose leaves are nosing out of our side garden;

    • a patch of sunlight created by the skylight over my workspace, framing the 120-year-old pine floorboards in the study where I sit typing;

    • the blades of grass sprouting on the canvas in my studio.

These littlest of pointers open my heart in nearly imperceptible increments to a grand sense of mystery. 

work in progress,
little pointers to life in my studio

Toe Pleat

From Without a Map, a memoir by Meredith Hall:

My mother teaches me a lot … 

She tells me I make lovely hospital corners on the beds. But once, watching me change my brother's bed, she scolds me as I lay the top sheet out, smooth and tight. 

"Meredy, a man likes to have room for his feet. You always make a pleat for him like this." She draws the sheet into a ten-inch fold at the foot of the bed, then tucks it in tight. 

"See? You don't need to bother with this on your bed, but you need to learn how to make a man's bed."*

---

How has this lesson never been presented to me before now, me with my husband who kicks a rough tent space for his feet every night and complains every time I pull the covers taut??!

What else do I not know that is hiding in plain sight?

detail, work in progress;
maybe it needs a pleat?

*Damned if I can figure out or find helpful info online as to how to actually make such a pleat.

Whispers on the Wind

yes no maybe so
walking changing step by step
here there letting go

Holding Fast in Rising Wind
12x12"; acrylic, ink, and pastels on masonite panel
abstract
2019

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

Winds of Change

Sometimes the idea of following an emerging painting wherever it leads is just that: an idea. A thought in my head that makes sense but nonetheless remains no more than an idea, a mental concept vs. a physical action.

But sometimes I let go of directing where a painting will go and actually give myself over to following wherever it takes me.

In fact.

In practice.

Right in front of my eyes.

With the current patch in my bigger Core Values work-in-progress, I was all over the place. I went in with a starting idea and put paint on my blank canvas accordingly—paint that didn't land or look the way I thought it might.

But I liked it, so I followed it for awhile and got a new idea. Put paint in place in accordance with that idea and, of course, it also went other than where I intended.

Back and forth it went: I took the lead, then followed, took the lead, then followed.

Eventually I pretty much let go of bringing ideas to the painting and instead let the winds of change blow me along. I became so thoroughly curious, so entertained, so participatory.

This painting and I went from the iterations posted yesterday,

to here,



then here,



next here,



and finally here:

newest patch

new patch in the bigger picture;
working title: Core Values

Look at these breathtaking close-ups:

detail

detail

Found Friends

I found these gals one by one in December, and then they found each other and became fast friends.

They insisted that I take a photo of them together, even though it was all they could do to come anywhere close to standing still long enough for me to get a shot!

What a dynamite way to begin a new year, eh?—dancing straight in, full of energy and high spirits.




                                                           

                                                                             

Bringing a Year to a Close

In the spirit of tying up loose ends, giving a nod to the old, and making space for the new, I plan to bring closure to 2017 in my next few posts—one of which appears here today in my last blog entry of 2017, the rest of which will show up on the other side of the weekend at the beginning of 2018.

Janus, god of transitions, invites me to take a close look at the metamorphasis from this start—

collage on paper,
taped to a cafeteria tray

to this completed painting—

All Are Born Radiating Light

The dramatic change knocks my socks off and seems impossibly magical … even though I was its agent and witnessed the transformation firsthand as it unfolded moment by moment!

Slapstick 12/28/17

In recent weeks I've done some of my most exciting work, and some of my least satisfying.

What d'ya think—the two might go hand in hand, might go with taking more risks?

---

Funny story: I got going with an idea here that seemed doomed to irretrievable ugliness, glued its parts onto a handpainted scrap from my collage box, sandwiched the whole mess between two sheets of plastic with the weight of a few books on top, and wrote the opening two lines above while I waited for the glue to dry so I could assess the damages—sure I was writing about a total fail.

But no.

Complete surprise. I love this piece!

I'm still in shock. I actually achieved the effect I was aiming for but not at all in the way I'd set out to do so.

Golly!

Flight Behavior
4x5"; acrylic, India ink, and pastel on paper
abstract
2017
[gift]

Throwing a Pass

Well, it's football season—maybe that's why I played around with a gridiron format today?

I think the coach has additional plays in the playbook, but here's the one that the team ran in practice today.

work in progress
4x5"; unstretched canvas
working title: q&q cut-up #10

Awesome field, don'tcha think?

Stopping in at Camp Briefly

Blink!

Where did August go? And September? And now October?

Back in August I set up some painting starts to take to camp for an inquiry into using negative space.

The earlier history of one of those starts:

8x10"

One quarter of the above:

4x5"

Last seen (and never posted here, I just realized) looking like this, still back in August:

Revisited yesterday and today, and now mounted on matte board, ready to head to a new home:

Grandma Moses Hangs Towels on the Clothesline at Camp
4x5"; acrylic, grease pencil, collage, ink, pastel pencil,
and oil pastel on canvas paper,
mounted on 8.5x11" matte board
abstract
2017
[gift]

Haiku on the back:

Inner tube, inner

life, laughter, Camp Takodah

gives rise to friendship.

A River Runs Through It

Never saw A River Runs Through It but the title came to mind this afternoon as I painted.

Looked up the IMDb single-sentence summary of the movie:

A story about two sons of a stern minister—one reserved, one rebellious—growing up in rural Montana while devoted to fly fishing.

Yeah, something like that going on here today with this painting!

free canvas #1
16x20"
work in progress

detail

detail

Apps

I never know if or when an app will come into play with any given painting.

By app I mean application of something I practiced in a class lesson, or learned in a book, or noticed in someone else's art.

Today I 'downloaded' all sorts of 'apps' and pressed them into service:

• the contrast app
• the variety app
• the complementary colors app
• the transparency/opacity app
• the lines app
• the veiling app
• the neutrals app
• the negative space app, and
• the sunny, blue-skied, late summer day app.

Before, during, after:

from this 8x10" start,



to this 4x5" quadrant,



to this coverup,



to a completed painting.

Those Hours Spent in the Resplendent Light of the Outer Orchard
4x5"; acrylic, ink, pencil, and soluble pastels on paper,
mounted on manila stock
abstract
2017
sold

In Opposition

I could tell a story about creating this painting, and—believe me—I've been in opposition with myself and telling a grouchy story for days, mostly about fussy/overthought vs. loose/intuitive. Every story needs a good conflict, ya know?

But it would just be a story.*

Instead, I'm going to take a step back, turn this little painting upside down, and practice noticing artistic elements that oppose each other visually.

A Story of Contrasts, by Dotty Seiter

• red vs. its complement

• straight edges vs. curved

• sharp edges vs. soft

• physically flat surfaces vs. textured/dimensional

• thin lines vs. thicker

• busy areas vs. quiet

• bright colors vs. dull

• dark hues vs. light

• veiled lines vs. bold.

The end!

In the Morning We Would Wake and There Would Be Coffee
4.4 x 6"; acrylic, ink, collage, and oil pastel on paper
abstract floral
2017

*I did, in fact, tell my internal grouchy story via asemic writing that shows up palimpsestically in the veiled background behind the blossoms here—I let my conflicted mood rip and move on outta me!

12/24", Day 4

Painting, for me, is so often an act of coming face-to-face with fear.

I choose to paint so as to confront those parts of me that might otherwise stay hidden either unconsciously or by design, but, no matter how many times I pick up a brush on a new day—over one thousand days now, and by my own choice—it is precisely that confrontation that so often scares the bejeezus out of me.

Then, I start painting anyway … and can't stop!

12/24" #1, work in progress