Eleventh Hour Studio Fun

Yesterday was a busy day, with several metaphorical brush fires popping up requiring my attention.

A number of intentions fell by the wayside, and I thought painting might also get postponed. Then, unexpectedly, a little pocket of spaciousness opened up as the day was coming to a close.

In the process of looking through my studio supplies to see if I had any watercolor paper, I bumped into an 18 x 24" sheet of high quality drawing paper which I'd covered several years ago with a monochromatic 'chaos layer' of greens. Evidently, I tucked it back into the pad of paper from which I'd extricated it, so I could find it and play with it yesterday!

I forgot to photograph before chopping it up but here's an after-the-fact photo.

In short order, I did a bit of veiling

and then got down to the business of neurographic doodling. SO calming and engaging. The dimensions of this piece are very satisfying to me, as is the piece as a whole. Nonetheless, I'm thinking I'll continue to play with it, to experiment with the neurographia in new-to-me ways. 

Stay tuned.

work in progress
4 x 8.5"; acrylic and ink on drawing paper

Softnesses

The sea has always 

whispered to me, 

all down my life 

it’s been there. 

And with that endless 

restlessness 

come other sounds—

seagulls shrieking and 

mast wires clinking as boats shift; 

pebbles turning and 

waves tapping sea-worn rocks.         

         —Jules Hardy, Altered Land 

Saltwater Whispers, Sea-Worn Rocks
5 x 7"; acrylic, ink, and watercolor pencil on card stock
abstract
2022

On the Fly

I was really hankering to settle in with some linework and rounding of corners Wednesday afternoon but I was on the fly, prepping for a day trip to Maine the following day.

I circled back to the idea of wanting to try my hand at a neurographic painting on a neutral atmospheric background, an idea that had caught my attention a few weeks ago.

Only got as far as the neutral atmospheric background. 

a start

 

At the Water's Edge

I spruce up yesterday's messy-middle work in progress—I mix colors to match early layers, paint additional layers for more depth, bring more fullness and polish to the piece. I get out my ink pens, sharpen the definition of lines, clean up edges. 

Then, nothing. 

The painting isn't in a mood for conversation. It still seems to be in a middle place, now a tidy-middle, a cleaned-up version of itself, a middle that nods off and falls asleep.

I turn my attention to other pursuits.

Some hours later, I return to find that little painting wide awake, chatty, and interactional. It's not shy about prodding and nudging. 

Get messy, it exhorts. Splash around a little! Get some sand between your toes!

So, I do.

Splashing at the Water's Edge
4.5 x 6"; ink, acrylic, and oil pastel on drawing paper
abstract
2022

Archiving the Messy Middle

I've long been a bit of an archivist. 

I started writing a journal in 9th grade to vent my extreme irritation that my younger sister Laurey had somehow wheedled a rule-breaking extra cookie for dessert. Following that start, I kept journals faithfully and regularly for about 20 years.

I started a diary of sorts my senior year in high school, using an engagement calendar, in which I jotted activities, books I'd read, correspondence, and the like. I continue that practice.

I started keeping photo albums once I had children and kept up with albums until my kids were grown and on their own. 

I like having personal archives I can reference for all manner of reasons … including messy middles, which brings me around to this blog of mine in which I have been keeping a record of my painting adventures for the past seven years, starting a year after I took up painting.

I love seeing process both in my own blog and those of other artists. I love seeing starts. I love seeing messy middles. I love seeing starts and messy middles resolve into completed paintings.

Here is today's messy middle, a rough draft, if you will. It awaits revision, editing, and polishing. I'm eager to see what surprises emerge once I begin playing around with it.

messy middle—work in progress

Disrupted Ions

You know how good-byes feel. 

How the air gets excited 

when all its ions 

and electrical charges 

are disrupted, 

first by the intent to leave and 

after 

by the leaving itself. 

Then, 

when the bodies move away 

through space, 

they create empty pockets 

where feelings get caught

and eddy around in the vacuum, 

creating little vortices 

of sadness. 

    —Ruth Ozeki, All Over Creation 

That's how it felt when Martha left on Sunday after a laughter-rich five-day cross-country visit.

I selected a sheet of drawing paper, picked up markers, and turned to mark-making and softening sharp corners.    

little vortices of sadness as a work in progress

Which Comes First, Chicken or Egg?

Well, really, my question is this: which comes first on trees, blossoms or leaves?

Depends on the tree. They don't all follow the same sequence.

My bare branches blossomed first and then began leafing out.

Springing Forth from the Ground of Being
4.5 x 6"; ink, collage, and acrylic on drawing paper
abstract
2022