two sketches and a shadow

time

Time, hey.  Sometimes it seems we have a lot and sometimes only a little.  We say "life is short".  But we could also say "life is long".  Or we could just say "here I am, what can I do?"

When I don't have much time for art-making in the studio, I can always make quick drawings in a sketchbook.  They don't take long and they can be quite satisfying, and sometimes they lead to further explorations in the studio.

These drawings were made over the last couple of weeks, with markers and coloured pencils in my 5x7" hardcover book:

They're not, you know, great works of art or anything, but I think I ought to do more of this.  Maybe a sketch or two every evening?  

Lately I've taken on a few extra things and am finding it difficult to organize my work.  Maybe I've taken on too much and will need to scale back, or maybe this is one of those learning curves and I will find a balance if I stay focussed.  Maybe making some wee drawings every evening will help with the focus part.

This morning I photographed the fence paintings:

They've been out on the fence for 4 years now, and today they're looking ready for another cycle of spring.  

other suns

I've been reading The Warmth of Other Suns.  This is not a book about Edwin Hubble, but it does, very briefly, mention his discovery of other solar systems: "a faint glimmer of distant light".  

I like that description.  I like thinking about what a phenomenal thing it was, this discovery, this concrete evidence of a universe much bigger than most people had heretofore fathomed.  Now almost a century has passed since Hubble made his observations and the universe is still much bigger than we can know, although we continue to try to measure it.  

Here's what I've been working on in the studio these last couple of weeks:

I've also spent some time working outdoors.  Shown below, sealing some finished works preparatory to varnishing, and doing some initial colour staining of canvas pieces prior to stitching:

The roses were blooming in front of the fence paintings a couple of weeks ago, and one night the light was a lovely warm yellow and everything was just glowing!  Camera almost captures that light:

Things I like:

Other things I like:

My culinary adventures go largely undocumented, but this one had got some ingredients from the garden so I could not resist a photo.  Green onions - planted from the ends of store-bought onions and grown to new heights! - and garlic chives and mint.  The rest is from the grocery store.

I do love a soup flavoured with mint and ginger.  Though the combination sounded odd to me at first it is actually very delicious, especially in hot weather.

Even this one small world is immeasurable to me.

fence paintings #10

like something from another time

looking out

Varnishing the Skin - photographed while varnish was still wet, so it looks quite glossy in the photo below.  I like the way the stitching is defined from a sharp angle.

When dry the varnish gives a really nice almost-matte surface, perfect for skin. 

Last few days it snowed again, and the fence paintings have taken on the air of a portal.

forever

The last two weeks have been pretty busy for me.  Among other things, I'm getting all the last-minute details in place for my upcoming show, and got all my tax stuff finished!  Very productive, feels good.

After a full day of paperwork last week, I poured myself a glass of wine and had a good sit in the yard.  There was a fair breeze and the fence paintings were billowing gently in and out.  They looked alive almost, and I was filled with a sense of well-being.  

Some years ago I made a painting which I titled "Everything Has A Life Of Its Own" and as time goes by I seem to understand that sentiment more fully.

And, look: the first tiny cracks are appearing!  After 9 and a half months or so hanging on the fence through seasonal weathers, this is quite exciting.  I had been wondering when these paintings would finally begin to fall apart.

Nothing can withstand the forces of nature for long.  Although I take every care to make my work as archivally-sound as possible, I am also very drawn to the ultimate intransigence of matter. 

We humans seem to possess simultaneously a deep desire for "forever" and a deep knowledge that "forever" does not exist however we may try to create it.

Speaking of intransigence: this year I have finally begun the exhaustive job of pulling all the grass out from around the stems of the roses!  Yay me!  Really, it's a huge job.  This yard was neglected for over a decade before we came along, and that grass is well-established, ha.

The roses when they bloom are yellow, my favourite.  These poor bushes have been struggling along and I hope that my grass-removal efforts may ease their existence a bit.

A robin likes the fact that I'm digging up the soil and loosening the worms and bugs!  He hangs out in the apple tree, waiting for me to finish so he can take his meal in comfort.

And the seagulls wheel overhead, and life is good.