one thing becomes another

This week I've finished the commissioned painting which I had been working on for awhile.  Finishing paintings is always accompanied by a feeling of elation - a grand outward rush! - regardless of how long it has taken to make them.  Today I am happy with everything.

A brief recap: The client will be able to choose two of the three paintings I made, in whatever combination they decide.  In this way, they take part in the creative process.  :)

Here are the various combinations, some of which I like better than others:

One Thing Becomes Another

mixed media on 3 stitched canvases

widths: 32", 35" and 38" x 29.5" height

You can read about the making of this work here and (near the end of the post) here.

After photographing them in pairs, I began playing around with various combinations of all three together, with and without spaces between the canvases:

I am oh-so-pleased with this work!

The people who commissioned me to make it have given me a lot of creative leeway and virtually no time constraint.  This is how I work best.  The painting is finished within my own estimated time frame, and I feel it is excellent work, better in some ways than I had imagined.

opening

Looking through my files in search of an image to send to a friend, I came across this one:

Taken around 4am on October 6, 2012, during a bout of insomnia the night before my show opened.  My husband lay sleeping peacefully in the next room, and I was so envious of his ability to sleep!  Ha.

submerge

submerge  v.t.  to place beneath or as if beneath the surface of a liquid  ‖  to become as though covered by water  [fr. L. submergere]

Working in a studio located partially below street level, my mind functioning below the distraction of everyday concerns; my heart beats slowly and light passes through.

Four new pieces close to being finished:

recently discovered music which is to my liking

:)

it comes to resemble the shape of the heart

An idea sketch of some time ago is providing inspiration for a new series of paintings.  The first four paintings I made with this idea were part of my "Tintinnabulation" exhibition.  You can see them here, among the other pieces from that exhibition.  They are the ones titled "Little Things", "Shades", "Aerial", and "Then There is That Gap".

Now I want to make a more involved series based on the idea of more abstract shapes and lines, keeping the colour clean and clear, aiming for visual simplicity, elegance and sophistication.

First attempt:

layout begins on the wall

moves to the floor

and back to the wall before stretching

As usual, the work has changed a bit from initial layout to finished stitching.  I stretched this one yesterday.  While I am excited to begin painting, it is necessary to spend some time considering the colour.  Acrylic colour will keep its glow if applied carefully in sheer layers; too many layers and the colour goes dull and flat.  I'm not talking about surface sheen, I'm talking about the life of the colour.

second layout

My intention is to copy this layout as exactly as possible.  To that end I have traced around the shapes on the wall, and will measure their positions as I stitch them into the canvas.  This will be an interesting process for me, less organic in execution than most of my work has been.

Previous to this new series, I completed the stitching for the commissioned work:

And stretched them:

The clients wanted a diptych.  Husband wanted me to make a piece "just for us", wife wanted to be able to choose.  

My solution: make 3 paintings, any two of which will work together, and any one of which can stand alone.  (In a later post sometime I will show the 6 different potential diptych combinations.)

The logic: what I do as an artist is to disassemble my experience of the world and re-assemble it in my studio.  Here then, my clients can be a part of that process when they, in effect, disassemble this work and re-assemble it into a diptych.

Brilliant, no?

In between working on my new "elegant and sophisticated" series, I will keep this commissioned work in the periphery of the studio.  In this way creative ideas and information are circulated.

Here's a poem that sums up a part of the creative process quite nicely.

spindle and float

And here is piece which I began several months ago.  It has been languishing in the painting rack, waiting for further inspiration.  Often the creative process works like a brewer's yeast, bubbling away at the bottom of the cask, creating a chain reaction that gradually moves to the surface.  (haha, I recently read an article on beer-making.)

Now looking at it, I'm thinking it only needs a few small tweaks.  Soon, soon.... !

enough for everyone

A few weeks ago I agreed to be one of 24 artists who each painted one letter of "Canadian Artists for the Poor".  You can see the beginning and end of my letter-making process here.

And on the CAP website, all the letters together.

This was a fun project which got me out of my usual studio routine to do something different.  It also appealed to my sense of altruism: not only do the funds raised by CAP go towards helping people in impoverished countries, but also, in the auctioning of the letters my "E" may wind up in the possession of someone who could not afford one of my larger, more involved paintings*.

The letters are being auctioned off at CAP's facebook page, and here is my "E".  Bids are ongoing until September 7, 2013, when each letter will find its home with the highest bidder.

*There is a lot of information out there regarding "giving art away", most of it cautioning against donating one's work because it is not a good way to gain exposure, that the donated work is in fact devalued by being sold for often a lower price than it ought, to people who do not understand its value and who will then undervalue other work of a similar nature, thus hurting the whole arts industry.

I think these points are valid, though a bit limited.

Here are some of my thoughts:

In primitive societies everyone eats when there is just enough to go round.  When there is a surplus, people starve.  This is because when there is a surplus people begin to hoard.

The fact that we have surplus allows us to do things like make art, since through hoarding our physical survival is ensured.  We make art and we give it a value, which enables us to continue to ensure our survival, and a cycle is created.  Within this framework, donating our work devalues it, thus undermining the cycle, which must be preserved so that we can continue to make art.

But what if one looks at the world from the point of view that there is enough to go round?

I suppose that idea could eventually lead to the capitalism vs. communism argument, neither one of which works very well when taken to extremes, as past and present examples demonstrate.  

I think perhaps we make assumptions about human nature.  It's a conundrum, isn't it.

How about this:

I do not donate my work for the purpose of gaining exposure, nor would I encourage any artist to do so.  I do donate work, very occasionally, to fundraising events which support my own values.   

When donating to this type of event, I hope that my work will end up in the possession of someone who cherishes it, whether or not they are aware of its monetary worth.  I also hope that the sale of my work will bring in more rather than less dollars, and to that end I try to promote the fundraising events to which I donate work.

I want to live my life through love, not fear.  I want look at this world as a place of plenty, not scarcity.

Perhaps because I've recently been reading about the philosophies of Milton Glaser, among others, I've been examining my own view of the world and thinking I could improve on some points.

sustenance

It's raining really hard outside.  I've left a glass on the deck to collect rainwater, which I will drink later. I did this a few days ago and discovered that rainwater tastes kind of metallic.  Perhaps the metallic taste is due to pollution, or perhaps it's due to the lightning and thunder that has lately accompanied rainfall here.

Meanwhile, rather than working in the studio, which had been my plan for today, I am reading and thinking.  Here is a very interesting article on beauty.

About two months ago I agreed to do another commissioned painting.  Commissions can be quite a challenge for me, because usually the starting idea changes a great deal during my process of making work, and the end result is as much a surprise to me as to anyone else.  In this case I am feeling good about doing a commission because this client is willing to trust my process.

After some initial conversations and a studio meeting, I made a visit to their home to get a sense of the space and how my work might fit into it.  We agreed on a size and a price, and since then things have been simmering in the back of my mind.

I had already begun with some preparatory work, using photo references to paint thinly on pieces of canvas which I intend to stitch into the commissioned piece, though still not knowing how it would all come together - and then, last week while I was prepping paper and canvas for landscapes, an idea came to me as to how I might stage this commission, and I think it's a really good idea!

So here I am, feeling good and excited, relaxed in the process and with a direction for the next step.

And look, the rain has slowed and my glass has fresh water in it.
:)

let it be

Last week in the studio I did a bit of re-organizing and some prep work for making more small landscape paintings.  In addition to using canvas, I want to try gesso-ed paper.  I've done this with portraits - see here - and find I really like the surface of gesso-ed paper, so why not try it with landscapes.

In between studio re-organizing and landscape prep I worked on some urban things.  

Above, a painting that has been underway for some time.  Below, the final finishing touches.  

Here are two that were begun last October:

Unfortunately I was careful with neither choice nor application of colour when I began working on the larger one.  After many layers, it has come to here:

The original open and delicate feeling of the stitched canvas has been oppressed by too-heavy colour.  

Ah well, I can only move forward, trust in my painting skills and know that this work is becoming something other than originally conceived - like so many others!  In fact, it is this refusal of the work to behave itself and progress as planned that keeps me intrigued, ha.

I recently read Stephen King's book "On Writing", which I thoroughly enjoyed, and in which he talks about starting with a character and a situation, and letting them develop.  The fact that his characters can surprise him is essential to his writing.  Well then, the same is true for my paintings.

fence paintings #10

like something from another time

dog patch

Our friends have a small cabin near Rocky Mountain House, Alberta, which everyone refers to as "dog patch".  It's about and hour and a half drive from our place.  Well water and woodstoves - no electricity or plumbing, no phones, cable or internet.  Last week we went up to this cabin for a day away from the city, and I brought my painting kit and camera.

About an hour out, we drove through a black thunderstorm which passed over the land quick and intense.

It was one of those cloudy-sunny days which makes for wonderful skies.  My camera does not catch it very well, but my painting catches a bit of it.  I like to paint the distant views, and here I just fudged in the foreground because I didn't want to get caught up in all those trees with their trunks and branches and leaves.  Better, I thought, to suggest a simple verge.

The 3 brushes I used for the first painting, here posed on the other side of the cabin.

Second painting was the view just to the left of my posed brushes.  There is a slough at the bottom of the hill and the sunlight, winking in and out of clouds, was glinting and shimmering on the surface of the water.  

Everything was in quick motion this day.  I love painting when the world is full of dodging light and shifting skies.  One has to work fast in trying to catch the spirit, and this is generally a good thing with plein-air work, at least for me.

Getting back into Calgary, where more thunderstorms were brewing.  After the recent flooding, this was not a welcome sight.  Luckily it didn't rain much and the river continues to ebb.

how high's the water, mama?

Nine feet high and rising...

trees under the force of the water
their little island is completely submerged

the Big Muddy wide and wild
churning its way towards downtown Calgary

2 days after the water crested and the rain finally stopped, I was able to make some paintings of the river higher than I'd ever seen it - though not nearly as high as it was at the flood's peak.  

I suppose these photos do not convey very much information if you don't know the river in its usual state of calm blue-green, when the trees are standing upright rather than bowing to the force of the water, the islands they grow on completely covered by the rushing torrent still running very high.

Well, there are many explicit photos and statistics of the Alberta Flood available online.  

We had our own experience of the flood, luckily only a minor inconvenience for us though we live very near to the river.  The cleaning and sorting and repair for those who were not so lucky will take awhile, and we do what we can.

Here I post only a few hours of painting as the sun emerged.

photo taken by Arno Hoogveld
riding by on his bike, stopped to talk

Here's a website journal post I made a couple of days before the flood.  Interesting choice of words wasn't it, considering what happened just two days later.

a useful link for some Albertans

http://calgaryartsdevelopment.com/flood-relief

more later.

light changes

potential

Works which may go into a new gallery....  

The owner contacted me the day after I made the post about one of my galleries closing.  Interesting timing, huh.  After some consideration as to whether this new gallery would be a good fit for me, I have decided to give it a try.  The work, if accepted, will go into a show in July and remain with the gallery for 6 months, during which time we will see what happens.

artists are dangerous

in the council chamber

Yesterday I spent several hours at City Hall in the Council Chamber.  My plan was to be there during CADA's presentation in the morning, and then work a1-9pm shift at my part-time job.

The CADA meeting was supposed to take place at 9am.  What happened was this:

About 300 people showed up in support of CADA, more people than the council chamber can hold.  Therefore the Speaker declared that there would be a re-ordering of the schedule: a few other small items first would be taken care of first, thus clearing some of the seats so that more of the CADA supporters could have seats later.

Those "other small items" took close to 3 hours, and I stayed through almost all of it, observing part of the process of civic decision-making.  In the end I'm glad they switched things around, because I have never sat in a Council Chamber during bylaw debates, crime prevention strategy effectiveness reports, budget amendments - and I found the whole process quite fascinating.

While listening to the discussions, I made some drawings of the Aldermen, the City Manager and the Speaker.

In between these items I phoned my place of work to ask if I could come in later than scheduled.  Luckily, it was a slow day and that was no problem.

There was a 1/2 hour lunch break, and then the CADA came up.  People were doing lots of tweeting during the meeting, but I don't have a cell phone or a twitter account, so I just made those drawings and listened.

First, Terry Rock made, as it happened, his final speech and presentation to the Council.  He talked about why the arts are vitally important, why they need to be factored into City plans for development.  

Other audience members also presented their ideas about why the arts are important to them personally and to the fabric of our culture.  It was so good to get a renewed sense of why what I am doing is important.  I sometimes question the validity of making paintings when there are so many other, seemingly more useful, things I could be doing, and yesterday I got a little confidence boost.

I feel I am not very articulate in explaining some things, but I can say that at the end of the meeting there was a sense of accomplishment.  This City understands the importance of, and is happy to support, the arts into the future.  If you want more details of how and why and where and what, please visit CADA's website, lots of articulate information there.

I was so glad I was able to attend this meeting!  I have not really followed or been involved with CADA in the past, and in some way I'm not even sure why I decided to go to this meeting, beyond a vague feeling that I ought to.  

A great day it was!

nude

Another call for entries, this one from Manifest Creative Research Gallery and Drawing Centre.  They are looking for figurative art.  This is a new gallery/space to me, and it looks interesting.

I used to co-ordinate life drawing sessions at various studios in and around Vancouver, BC.  For 6 years I spent an average of 10 hours per week studying and portraying the human figure during those sessions. I worked on paper, usually sized around 24x32", and at the end of those 6 years I had a stack of drawings and paintings - my paperworks - that reached from the floor to well past my knees.

Some of the paperworks sold, others were traded for things like studio rental, a stereo, help with a move, and some were buried in the wall when my old studio was renovated - at the time I had a truly misguided idea that one day they would be found by demolition workers and recognized for the great works of art that they... well, maybe were, ha.  When I left Vancouver the paperworks stack had been reduced to half of what it had been, and I still have most of those drawings.  They currently live in the lower 3 drawers of my husband's printmaking paper cabinet.

I keep thinking one day I ought to take them out again, maybe try showing them somewhere or at least photograph them properly....

mail art

Memory: International Mail Art Exhibition and Swap

This looks pretty cool.  I like the serendipity of trading art anonymously, so I intend to put some work into this exhibition/swap.

slow process

The vast and various world of photography beyond digital cameras is becoming more and more intriguing to me.  For example lomography.  Never heard of that, but here is a lomography class which will be taught by Tekoa of Rainika Photographik.  
What I love most, though, is the old cameras with their slow processes.

Here Tekoa used a Russian camera of the type which can use glass or paper plates.  It took several minutes to set up, meter the light, adjust the focus, et cetera.  The exposure was relatively fast at about one second, but I had time to sit and observe the set-up process, get comfortable and relax before the shutter clicked.

There is such beauty in old-school photographic techniques, back and foregrounds blurred in a shallow focus field, contrast heightened so that a white shirt becomes a bright flat shape.  These photos have a kind of dreamlike quality which really appeals to me.

I love the gravity and dignity of slow processes.