studio sale -- day 3

This painting evolved over several years and many layers. I had thought it was finished, but I pulled it out of storage at one point and decided to go over it completely. I rarely work this way anymore -- nowadays I'd rather get something done in one or two sittings -- but I like that it's a documentation of my thought process. I like the idea of ideas accumulating and changing based on what's underneath.



The original layers contained lots of encaustic. I was learning, messily.

Collage, wax, oil paint, drawings of hands... it's a little bit of a lot of my favorite things.

"If You're Willing"

12x12in

mixed media and oil on canvas

Sale price $200 (originally $300)

+$10 shipping

SOLD

studio sale

I am clearing out the studio to make room for 2017!

Images on your screen are easy and abundant, but having original artwork in your home is special. Treat yourself, it's worth it!

"Then, Again"

12x12 in

oil and mixed media on canvas

sale price $200 (originally $300)

(+ $10 shipping)

(If you want to buy with a different currency, let me know! Happy to accomodate)

handwriting

The last project for my collage workshop was to incorporate handrwriting:

I have just a meager stash of collage materials (I will never quit you, Brown Paper), but had a surprising collection of handwriting samples. In the past I would have been reluctant to use them, though that feels completely silly to admit... Why get protective and hoard-y about bits of paper? They're speciaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllllllllll.

But this turned out to be the funnest assigment for me: I was protective about nothing. In fact, if there was a bit that I liked too much and was trying to work the entire composition around, I deliberately covered it up. 

That sounds kind of silly, too. WHY AM I SO PROTECTIVE ABOUT PAPER.

But every time I covered up something I thought defined and anchored the whole piece, the whole piece got better. Like Annie Dillard says, sometimes you have to take out a wall. Sometimes it is the bearing wall. 

These quick little pieces are a good place for me to practice this. 

So many of my paintings have suffered because I was protecting them -- couldn't push them past that layer that was supposed to be just a warm-up layer but had some interesting little bit that I got weirdly attached to and wouldn't want to cover up. 

But here, all the truly interesting bits happened in the covering up... I hope that lesson translates from paper to paint. 

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what the paper will do

Another assigment for the online collage workshop was this sweet little accordian book:

It has been very good to keep my hands busy with collaging. I am too impatient to paint these days, feeling all flayed open and distracted. But collage takes somehow less brain power and is more immediately gratifying.

It's good to crank them out, it's good to have deadlines. This is the benefit of school and classes of any kind: stop being precious and do the work. 

I like it, despite its clumsiness. It's a strange story in an unlikely little diary.

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pursuit of patterns

The human brain loves patterns. 

I read an interview once with author and educator Parker Palmer, who asserted that it's our brain's strongest function: creating and following patterns. "The brain is a patterning organ," he said, "it thrives on making connections."

It amused me that among the many intricate and boggling functions our brains perform, there would be one it did best -- liked best. 

How satisfying, then, to work on this assigment, which was to create my own patterned paper and incorporate it into a collage:

It's ironic, too, that I arrive at more dynamic and visually interesting pieces when I think less.

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piecing things together

When I was checking in my bags at the O'Hare airport on our way to England, I was told that I could not take any of my paints with me, because they are "unstable" at flying altitude. I considered arguing that I had successfully transported them both to and from Japan in my suitcase, but there was an official-looking sign at the counter indicating that oil paints are not allowed, and you and I both know exactly how far you get arguing with airport people. 

So, I am without paints until I can figure out where to go to start replacing my stock. Rather than wallow in righteous resentment, I've decided to keep my hands busy by taking an online workshop in collage, led by artist Randel Plowman, of the inspiring A Collage A Day blog. 

I like how collages can be quick studies of color and composition, and it's oddly freeing to work with just a limited range of materials. The results have been looser, less protected, less calculated.

Except for THIS assignment, which was to start with a concept, and create a collage to illustrate it. This is usually how I overwork and kill a painting -- by trying to make it conform to a pre-conceived idea -- but here I tried to be more vague in my definitions and allow for accidents. 

Home -- the colors and creatures of my beloved Lake Michigan:

Home -- apples in season, like a diorama in the Public Museum of my childhood:

Dream -- an convoluted explanation of a simple event, in shapes, shadows on the periphery:

Desire -- a thread connecting the object to my imagination, the gulf that separates me from what I want:

And then I felt impatient with myself for staying too much within the lines of what I always do, so I made these last two without any perimeters:

This one is my favorite:

Which one says what, do you think?

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