Because I live in New England and it may never stop snowing, here is something pretty to look at to lift your spirits. It certainly lifted mine. A friend gave me this plant as a bulb for a Christmas gift. This weekend, during a four-day snow storm, it decided to bloom. Perfect timing for offering some winter cheer. Inspiration: bloom, no matter what.
I love taking bits and pieces of things–paper, wood, anything–and putting them together in different ways. My late grandmother was an expert at this, whether it was putting together a meal, a quilt or a decorative wall covered in magazine pages.
My collage work stems from my earliest memories of that on some unconscious level. And, these recently created fashion brooches–created from bits and pieces of wood and sometimes mixed with other items–do, too. I’m honored to have some of them selected for sale in the Attleboro Museum of Art’s gift shop.
Each year for Christmas, I like to “surprise” myself with art books as gifts. I order the books way ahead of time, wrap them and put them under the tree. I then forget what I ordered and when I open the gift with my name on it on Christmas morning–surprise!
One of my “surprises” this year was Personal Geographies: Explorations in Mixed-Media Mapmaking. I have always loved maps–the lines, the swirls, the shapes, the open invitation to imagine other places. So I love the idea of using the components of maps to make personal art.
The book has exercises in it to get you going on creating these maps. But when I sat down to work on this big piece of paper, using some squeeze bottle craft paints, I had no intention of making a map. However, the notion must have already seeped into my brain because this sure does look like a map.
I don’t think I’m finished with it, so it might not look anything like this when I’m done. I may even tear it up and use it in collages. I just find it fascinating what the brain takes in and what the Muse does with that information.
Coming to the end of a nice winter break, I finally, finally dragged/pushed myself into the studio to try to get done the work I had promised myself that I would be doing every single day of winter break because I would finally have the “time.”
Well, so funny, this “time” business. I seem to have much more of it than I fool myself into thinking that I don’t have. During break I had plenty of time to watch the “Twilight Zone” marathon; plenty of time to watch back-to-back episodes of “Will & Grace” and “Roseanne” reruns; plenty of time to eat too many portions of the potato salad I will spend the rest of winter working off; but strangely, the “time” to get into the studio was not made.
Procrastination is a bitch. Luckily, I did make time enough to read a great book that showed me this very clearly: The War of Art. I highly recommend this book to any artist. The main point of the book is that we allow so much resistance (in many forms) to stop us from creating and using the talents that we have been given.
The best way to stop it is to just show up and do the work. So, today, that’s what I did. I just showed up at the crafting table, got out a piece of paper, poured some paint on it, and started swirling the paint around. It took great effort to fight off the resistance, the voice saying, “What the hell is this you are painting? It looks like crap!” But I did it. I just worked. No judgement. Just brushes and fingers, painting to the quiet music of the wind blown snow. The result is what you see here above, “Transcending.”
A new year. A new day of just showing up to do the work and letting what happens happen. And then tomorrow.
What a weekend!
It was filled with art-brainstorming and art making. On Saturday, my art buddy and I went into Boston to a salvage store that has great items and inspiration for art projects. I’m blessed to have a friend who gets just as excited as I do imagining what we can do with the most mundane objects. No scrape of cloth, paper or metal is safe from our imaginations.
I spent today in the studio whipping through ideas for art projects. I’ve been given the opportunity to facilitate art workshops–for the first time ever. This is all new to me and came out of the blue, but it feels like I’ve been waiting for exactly this for a long time. I have always wanted the opportunity to do something truly meaningful with art.
I don’t have it all worked out yet, but I’m leaping and trusting that just the right ideas will come to me. I’m trying to design workshops for adults who don’t consider themselves “artist” (of course, we are all artists, aren’t we, in one way or another?). The projects need to be crafty, easy to do but not childish, interesting to both men and women.
These are challenging guidelines, but I feel so alive just thinking about all of this. I love the rush of trying out these new projects! Can’t wait to share them with others.
I’m open to ideas. Please feel free to share anytime. And I’d be happy to share how I did the projects you see here. Speaking of sharing, a big thank you to a fellow artist who donated her fabric scraps to me. I used them to create the flowers on mat board that you see here. Thanks, Molly. She’s a very talented fabric artist. Check out her blog.
It’s amazing how a little encouragement can get the artistic juices flowing. I recently made a birthday card for someone. She loved it so much that she wanted to see other cards, so I made her more of the same one and many others that I thought she might like. She told others about the cards and they love them, too. And so I’ve been a busy little studio bee creating cards this week. Here are just a few. I make each card one by one, but some of them are available to order as a reproduction on my RedBubble site.
Weekends slip by so quickly. And this one was no different. I saw “The Amazing Spiderman” with my 13-year-old son–13, still hard to say that. I like going to the movies with him. It’s the only time he allows me within his protective-bubble-personal space for long periods of time, now that he’s a teenager (of which he reminds me often).
I worked on some projects that I’ve long procrastinated over—finally created the necklaces that my friend has been waiting for. Hope she likes them. And I shortened a necklace for a client. It’s so nice to cross promised projects off my list.
I found time to do a quick pencil sketch (above). I may totally change this with some collage work. I haven’t decided yet. Well, I know the hands–my weakness–still need work. So I’ll have to revisit this one again.
I also made another necklace (below). The necklace is in honor of an in-law who died far too soon–although I think that could be said of any age when someone dies. I only spent time with her on two occasions because she lived in Africa. She only spoke the native language and French, and I only speak English, but each time she communicated well–though she was very shy–in smiles and laughter.
As I created this necklace, which is made from beads (stones) sent as a gift to me from her mother directly from Africa, I thought of her and tried to reflect my vision of her as I designed—her earthiness, the beauty of her nature, the lasting impression she made with a will as strong as stone and a personality imbued with soft shades of loveliness that always managed to radiate the brightest joy. The last two beads at the end of the necklace are two black beads–a reminder that everything comes to an end, fades to black. The toggle that closes the necklace is a flower–a reminder that more beauty awaits us in the afterlife. Rest, Dear One.
I recently did more work on this 8 x10 mixed media collage on canvas. It’s called “Entry.” Originally, I created it while contemplating entering it in a juried show at an art venue that has rejected every single entry I’ve offered for shows over several years. I don’t have the stomach to send in another entry to receive yet another form rejection letter from that particular venue.
I know that rejection is part of the risk we take as artists, but I can only stomach it in small doses over long periods of time. So I just used the theme of the show to inspire this piece—just for me, just for the sake of creating.
Isn’t it interesting that no matter how many times we are accepted, which has been the case for me this year with three show, it’s the rejections that stay with us? Each one seems to join forces with that little critic that always whispers over the shoulder things like, “Why are you using that color?” “Do you really think this subject matter is interesting?” “Do you even know what the hell you’re doing?”
I’d love to hear how you deal with rejection. Does it freeze you in your tracks? Does it piss you off and fire you up? Let me know.
I’m participating in Spark: art from writing, writing from art. It’s an event in which artists and writers respond to each other’s works over a 10-day period. This one is from September 21 through September 31. Participants sign up and the organizer e-mails the inspiration piece for the works that will be created. Each person gets a different piece. Artists get words, writers get art for inspiration. This time, we had the choice of honoring a young writer who has participated in Spark in the past. She recently died suddenly. I didn’t know her, but her work definitely sparks emotions. In fact, when this poem was offered as one of the choices for inspiration I asked for more choices. The honest nakedness of it touched such a tender place in me that I wanted to turn away. But I realized that this is exactly what good writing is supposed to do. Good art should shake you, should linger in your heart and head, even disturb you. I hope I’ve done justice to her poem (which she wrote in response to a photo of a staircase) with this black and white pencil drawing that I call “Escalation.”
By Charisse Cecil
I’m standing in these slotted
shadows, leaning against this
cinderblock wall that is coated in countless layers
of paint vainly attempting to cover generations
of ubiquitous crew tags and psychedelic
Under this metal staircase, where I used to huddle
with my girls, harmonize to hip hop soul
pop rhythm & blues slow jams and practice
lyrical freestyles in an impermeable cipher
that the boys could not enter unprepared
for verbal battle.
The light shone through the slats and created
stripes across my loose-leaf paper,
shining on my algebra homework
brightly enough for T. to copy my answers
while I crushed on him so hard
that I didn’t mind doing all the work.
Tucked inside that acute angle under the stairs
with T., I tasted my first kiss – a heady blend
of heat, his sour apple Jolly Rancher
and my pink lemonade Bubble Yum
that made all those late nights of memorizing
theorems and formulas worth every
missed must-see TV show and girly conference call.
Whenever I hear the crunch of broken glass
and discarded Newport filters underfoot,
I remember the night L. forced me to my knees
under those stairs and pressed my face
against his open fly, when he was supposed to be watching
me while my mom went around the corner for groceries.
Under this stairwell, I learned one source of my power
that will take me beyond this stairwell and these shadowy halls.
The power is in my mouth –
to recite rules or rhymes,
to sing songs or wail battle cries,
to give ardent pleasure or exact excruciating pain.
I’m participating in Spark: art from writing, writing from art. It’s an event in which artists and writers respond to each other’s works over a 10-day period from today through May 27. Participants sign up and the organizer e-mails the inspiration piece for the works that will be created. Each person gets a different piece. Artists get words, writers get art for inspiration. I’m planning to chronicle my creative process and reveal the final piece on May 27.
I was so excited to wake up this morning to receive the inspiration piece. I never loved homework while in school, but I so love assignments as an artist. They get my heart going. And this one certainly has. The poem below by Annmarie Lockhart is so very, very lovely. Line by line, it speaks to me on a deep level and to the work that I’ve been doing for so long–that lady in the flowing gown who constantly shows up in my work, the lady I’m trying to figure out, trying not to paint so much so that I might grow as an artist, but can’t seem to leave behind. Her. Can’t wait to translate this on canvas. So many images are flying through my head already: stars, mystery, revelation, darkness, light. May my lady will show up, maybe not. Here is the piece that will inspire my creation:
By Annmarie Lockhart
on a clear-sky night
she shines center stage
in front of a deep dark
velvet curtain with
a handful of stars
scattered like glitter
a silvery sliver of
her full brazen self
she emanates light
weak and pale
but does not grab
she is beautiful
but does not tell
she is eyecatching
but definitely not