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

Mark Making

The Bible is a collection of religious texts sacred to Christians, Jews, and others. It contains 66 books, one of which is the book of Psalms. 

The book of Psalms contains 150 Psalms, one of which is Psalm 23.

Psalm 23 consists of six verses, the last of which rose to the surface of my mind several days ago in reference to my writing about mondegreens.

Yesterday, words from Psalm 23, line 5—my cup runneth over—came to my attention in a text message from my daughter.

Psalm 23 is thought to have been written some three thousand years ago (three thousand!), in Hebrew, by King David of Israel, though most of what is known of David comes from biblical literature, the historical authenticity of which is uncertain. There is little detail about David that is concrete and undisputed by historians.

But someone felt called to create, to put into form, and to share this sacred song, without knowing if or how making the marks of it would 'make a mark,' so to speak.

And so it is with all of us; we are called to create, called to make marks. 

I Shall Not Want
4.5 x 5.25" postcard; acrylic and ink on paper
abstract floral
2021

On My Nightstand, on My Easel (3)

On my nightstand

We spend hours in our backyard playhouse. 
We play house,
we play store,
we play movie stars.
We play and play,
humming with summer.

Judy Goldman, Losing My Sister: A Memoir


On my easel

detail
work in progress, 11 days in, 4/29/20
24 x 48" canvas

On My Nightstand, on My Easel (2)

On my nightstand

Life-learning embedded in camp songs,* first sung decades ago in the 1960s, meets twenty-first-century neuroscience in Alex Korb's The Upward Spiral: Using Neuroscience to Reverse the Course of Depression, One Small Change at a Time:

Your smile is a powerful tool. Most people think that we smile because we feel happy, but it can go the other way as well: we feel happy because we smile. Smiling increases positive feelings. It's simple and improves your mood. [And,] when you smile, you're more likely to perceive positive emotions in other people, which can have a big influence on your mood.

A confident posture modulates your brain's response to your thoughts, so if you want to be more confident, think positive thoughts while sticking your chest out and keeping your chin up.

*camp song:

When anything goes wrong, keep smiling,

When anything goes wrong, just grin!

Throw back your shoulders, stick out your chin,

As long as you are smiling you are bound to win!

When anything goes wrong, keep smiling,

Never let your troubles get you down down down,

Everything will be all right

And the whole world will look bright

If you smile, smile, smile!

On my easel

work in progress, day 2, 4/19/20
24 x 48" canvas

24x48, Day 1

May my lived experience with Finding God boost my courage as I start fresh with a new piece. If nothing else, I've begun in the same impulsive impatient manner, by activating the canvas before fully pulling off the plastic wrap!

painting start, day 1, afternoon, 4/18/20
24 x 48" canvas

day1, detail

Doodlebug #2

More playful doodlebug markmaking and bits of collage to create new possibilities.

work in progress, 16 days in, 3/10/20
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work in progress, 16 days in, 3/10/20
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Doodlebug #1

Coming in with some playful doodlebug markmaking and bits of collage to create new possibilities.

work in progress, 16 days in, 3/10/20
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Salt Marshes

Like estuaries, salt marshes are also located in the intertidal zone. In my neck of the woods, these dynamic biological communities are marked by salt-tolerant vegetation often found among a mosaic of meandering tidal creeks.

Glaciers scoured the Northern Massachusetts coast thousands of years ago and mud, silt, and clay sediments settled out of the water to form extensive mudflats in many of the protected areas of the coast. Twice a day at low tide, in what became a perpetually repeated process over millennia, portions of these mudflats were exposed to open air. Seeds from Spartina alterniflora and Spartina patens took root in the mud. As grasses sprouted and spread through underground rhizomes, the thick growth began to trap more sediments and organic matter which raised the level of the marsh. The organic matter and dead spartina grasses accumulated underneath the new growth as peat. Over time, rich, complex, interconnected living ecosystems evolved.

Um, is it just me, or does this sound like my painting process?!

You Need Only Breathe In, Breathe Out
10.5 x 13.5"; acrylic, latex, ink, collage, and oil pastel on drawing paper
abstract landscape
2019

Estuaries

Estuaries are ecosystems that can be found along both bay and ocean shores in what is known as the intertidal zone—any area that is regularly inundated by the tide where fresh water and sea water meet. 

Deriving from the Middle Dutch root brak, the term brackish is used for intertidal water which has more salinity than fresh water but not as much as sea water.

During the making of this painting, I was abundantly immersed in brackish water, with tides moving in and tides moving out as I went back-and-forth-back-and-forth between free intuitive expression and thoughtful intentional refinement, feeling at a core level how rich and abundant the multidirectional flow is, every part of the flux vital.

You Need Not Name the Inbreath, Nor The Out
10.5 x 13.5"; acrylic, latex, ink, collage, and oil pastel on drawing paper
abstract landscape
2019

Artist's Statement

From a book not about painting, this statement:

You learn how to do it in the practice of it.


That's exactly what I do when I paint—learn how in the practice of it.

In early July, I turned to a new page in a notebook of Canson 90-pound 18 x 24" drawing paper. I began making marks and mixing up shades of green using yellows and blacks. Practice, practice, practice.

18 x 24 " start

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Landed in a Lively

You may remember that I vacationed on Monhegan Island in Maine a year ago with my dad, that we landed in a lively conversation with a woman we passed on the lane who turned out to be an artist, that she invited me to pop over to her outdoor studio space—which I did.

Just returned from a four-day repeat vacation on Monhegan Island in Maine with my dad during which I spent parts of three mornings on the tarp-covered deck at Alison Hill Studio in magical summer-sunshine-summer-sky-summer-breeze, painting with artist Judy of last year's lively conversation on the lane. The lively conversation continued, and paint started finding its way to paper.

First marks:

Noticing #7

noticing:

• how curious I am about life stories as I meet people on Deer Isle

• how lost I feel of late about ‘my’ ‘painting life’

• how I tighten when I think about packing to leave

• how drawn I am to folks’ stories of decisions and dreams

• how lost I can get in the creative act of painting

detail, work in progress

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