Process

Are you put off by "artist speak"? I know I am!

Half the time I read artist statements, I can't even fathom what they're talking about. Trust me when I say they very likely consulted someone who gave them back their words in that completely garbled, misunderstandable (is that even a word???) form. Most likely they just wanted to say, "uhm. I make stuff. I don't know why. But I can't seem to stop."

So I wanted to clarify what I ACTUALLY mean when I talk about "process". Firstly, I love sharing how I go about making something (read:process) or how I came up with an idea (read:process) or what I'm thinking about while making something (read: yep,process).

Process is The Why, The How, The What.

And you should never ever EVER feel intimidated asking an artist how or why they made something.  Please! ASK!!

Often, we are just as mystified about what we create as you are observing it. Sometimes we're just figuring out what happens when we put this thing beside that thing. Or that colour over top this colour.

Sometimes there are deeper reasons. Case in point. I made a bunch of paintings a few years back. They were all based on old photos from my husband's family. And they sure do look like a tribute of sorts, to them. But that isn't where my head was at. At all. Does it matter? Well sure if you were interested in WHY I chose those particular photos. Or HOW I made them. But it certainly doesn't detract from the enjoyment of them. simply as they are.

See? You don't HAVE to know The Process in order to like a piece of art. Or even buy a piece of art. And it's totally okay if it matches your couch! Liking it, is what counts. For whatever the reason. It doesn't have to be mired in where it stands within Art History or some obscure art marketing speak. 

The next time you look at someone's artwork and want to connect with the artist? Let them know what about it, appeals to you. Because that little blue squiggle in the corner may be THEIR favourite bit, too! 

Keepin' It Real

 I've thought about posting for quite awhile now. What's stopped me most times is the heeYOUge amount of spew that burbles up inside me every time I even contemplate sitting down at my computer. An intentional ...VERY intentional... process. Down in my studio. Under the counter. At the back. Where I'll need a clear space to plop it down. All the spew rises and rises and I think, NOBODY wants to hear that. So I sew something. Or make some prints. Or simply ...and more likely... walk back upstairs. 

Months have passed. And still not much has changed. Except the seasons. And here we are in the drawing the curtains closed, hunkering down, long evenings part of the year. And all I want to do is make things for sale. My inner craftsperson rearing its head yet again. 

My inner voice is conflicted. As always. 

Y'know I really thought I'd be over this by now. I  thought I would be a self-actualized Professional Artist (yes. capitalized.) with a real following. Solo Shows. Gallery representation. And exhibitions. And patrons. But it seems that isn't the way my art career is going. has gone. I lurch. I'm a professional lurching artist. (small letters. no caps. always.) I think, every October/November, "I need to sell stuff. Christmas stuff. to all my adoring fans." I realize by December I'm too late for THAT boat and vow to make it all different NEXT year. I will PRODUCE. I will make a schedule. I will ramp up my blog, create Content for my Social Media platforms. Throw heaps of Love on my cherished Newsletter subscribers. I will have monthly, weekly, daily Campaigns. And I will finally get my shit TOGETHER. 

 Because I waffle. Between wanting ALL those things and well, NOT wanting all those things. Or more accurately, not wanting it to feel like work. Like somehow the world owes me an easy career. I can just do what I want and everyone will wait with bated breath and say, "Thank You!" when I bestow my next creation on the world. I'm not even going to get into the "whys" of all that ridiculousness suffice it to say, "Uhm. White Privilege much." (and a whole whack of other self-analysis mumbo jumbo that bores me to tears.)

2020 however was gonna be different. (ha!) The interest in my artwork was growing. I'd made a realistic plan: Daily Insta/FB posts, Weekly blog posts, Monthly Newsletter posts. Created a list themes and hung it by my desk. Marked out deadlines each month on my new calendar. Even found an amazing editor to go over my writing. Yep. 2020 was gonna be (finally!) my step out year. 

Oh. The irony.

So. Here it is the end of October and all I want to do is sell Christmas stuff. Again.

Thing is? I actually have a bunch of stuff I'd made before the Pandemic reared its ugly head. Some small, easily mailed encaustic pieces. Some wire and rock fripperies. Some ...okay... an INSANE amount... of gel prints. And y'know what? I think I'm going to do this. I think maybe it's gonna be okay. I still have time to get things mailed before Christmas and even if they aren't specifically holiday related, they might be just what you're looking for your sister or aunty or maybe even your uncle (fripperies make dynamite key chains. just sayin'.)

Soon, VERY soon, I'll be sending out a newsletter with what I have to offer. Plus more on the way. So if you want to know? Sign up! 

Thanks for helping me get my shit ...and 2020... back together!

Time has passed. Things haven't changed.

Well. Okay. Maybe they've actually gotten worse. I swear. The world has gone mad. Absolutely stark raving bonkers. After my last post there was a flurry of gel print making. My studio drowned, under piles of paper. I will have enough collage material for the rest of my life. As the studio calendar above indicates, the space was vacated once the weather became steady. And outside I've remained. Because playing in the dirt is really the only thing that makes sense to me these days. Food. Flowers. And on these hot sultry summer afternoons? Lazing in my floatie in the the middle of the lake. Maybe when the cooler weather returns, the studio will again beckon. In the meantime, my friends, stay safe, play in the dirt and if you have to head out into the world? Wear your damn mask.

This isn't about Art

Diving deep into one's inner workings is a noble, if discomforting, endeavour.
Not to mention a journey without  a destination.
Goals be damned!

Sitting with one's feelings as they come up is admirable.
In practice? It's hard.
Sometimes, insufferable.

It takes all my power ... mind, spirit, body... not to distract. To continue to sit in this primordial swamp letting what comes up, come up.

Look. Listen. Let go.

So. Hard.

Trying to remember that the best way out is through when all around lies sludge made up of tears and broken dreams. That the Universe has something even better.

But I have to let go first.

So. Fucking. Hard.

Next Step ... Divesting!

As we move along the design-build timeline ...even at these early stages... I look around our house and realize ... there is So. Much. Stuff. The life stuff ... accumulated dishes and kitchen detritus and shoved-in-to-fit furniture... is pretty simple to get rid of. (hello! massive Free-Cycle purge) But as ponder each room, each item, I see so many art pieces ...fellow artist friends and my own... that will not be making the move. And while it's still early days, I feel I need to start letting go, moving along so there isn't that "HOLY SHIT! We're moving in a week!" moment.

Over the next few months I will be posting items that need to be rehomed. If there is anything here that tugs at your heart strings, moves you, maybe something I've made in the past that you remember (likely I still have it!) let me know, would ya?!? Don't let perceived cost stop you. Cuz prices will be very fluid. I'm not trying to get rich here. But want the work to land in its rightful place.

Loving what you do

When did it become "normal" to feel it isn't okay to like our own work?

As children we are super stoked when we create something, "Look it! Look it! Look it! I did this! I'm great!" And maybe as a parent you feel it's necessary to take'em down a notch, but more likely you say, "You are AHmazing!" And Life is Good.

I've been working hard at painting these past months. I've taken class after class. Putting my ego on the shelf. Playing beginner.  With "Just because I know, doesn't mean I know" on repeat in my head.

And I've struggled. Oh how I've struggled.

Nothing looked like I wanted it to. Each canvas was an absolute grind. Someone else's voice was directing me: "make marks THIS way. arrange things like that. look for differences. flow is important. keep the values top of mind. use shapes but not too many."

I'd head to the studio with grit and determination. I was gonna master this thing dammit.

And then a week or so ago while I was listening to a podcast as one does (Art For Your Ear Ep.15 if you care)  working through all of this ... angst ... feeling like a stranger in my own skin. I'd switched tasks, putting down my brushes, giving the "Capital P)ainting" a rest, happily aging, patina'ing an assemblage shrine. Y'know. Doing my thing.

Danielle and Hollie were talking about how they'd tried other things ... graphic design, marketing, teaching, painting... because what was easy for them (collage) didn't seem like the Right Thing. Because, well, it was so easy.
And how much they loved doing what they do now.
And how much they absolutely love their work.

I looked down.
I soaked in the textured shrine in my hands. The smooth paint. The rough texture. My palette, colours running into each other. My paint covered fingers. And I looked over at the canvas that'd been staring me in the face, mocking me for days ... months.

That little intuitive gut voice, you know the one, said, "You know how to do this."

And I grabbed my palette and started applying paint to the canvas how I do for my assemblage works. With my fingers. Dabbing into this colour, and then that colour, smearing over the surface, into the texture. Dipping into water, smoothing out the prints. Back and forth. Back and forth.
 An hour passed.

h.a.p.p.i.l.y.

No angst.
No one else's voices.

Within days I'd finished.
And you know what? I absolutely adore it.
Yes. I said A.D.O.R.E.

Because truly. If I can't ...or won't... then who will?

Thoughts on a Friday

con·flu·ence

känˌflo͞oəns

noun 

the junction of two rivers, especially rivers of approximately equal width.
"here at the confluence of the Laramie and North Platte Rivers" 

                      synonyms: convergence, meeting, junction
                            "the confluence of the Rhine and the Mosel" 
an act or process of merging.
"a major confluence of the world's financial markets"

The world can feel like an odd place sometimes.
Grating. Bone on bone.
And then, just as quickly, barriers lift and all flows with such ease giving me pause to wonder, did I imagine it? did I create it?

Which of course I did.
And I forget.
Every. Single. Time.

And I vow never to forget again.
To remember. "Yes. You have the power. The answer lies with you."
All the while knowing, aggravatingly, irritatingly knowing, I'll move down this path again.
And again.

With my husband's words ringing in my ears, "Why CAN'T it just be about making? It doesn't have to be about more. Why are you making this so difficult?" after many, many conversations and then Stephanie saying, "If you've been avoiding something for a long, long time? Why is it still on your To Do list?" ... indeed, why is this freaking thing still on my To Do list?

I tentatively put it down.
And the weight just ... melted away.
And my very soul, breathed deeply.
And the little voice said, "Yessssssssss."

Interpretations as children lead to beliefs as adults.

Expectations ... looking for freedom.

Wholeheartedness depends on our sense of freedom.

We expect people to show up when we show up.

The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time.”
          ― Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays

What's going on over here

1. The Daily Painting is done.


2. I can't figure out if I want/need my newsletter.
   Subscribers, you'll be receiving a survey tomorrow.
   Help a girl out will ya?


3. I've been researching "small contemporary cottage design". Because lakeside studio/house!
   
   


4. Taking this online class, Extreme Composition, from Jane Davies.
   Loving every minute of it.


5. Also taking this online class from Michael deMeng.
   Didn't realize it was ONLY surrealism. I should learn to read the fine print.


6. No one wants to buy cheap art. Is it really that bad? WTF?!?


7. The orchard is blooming!
   
   


8. New Big Painting underway ... 36"x48" big.
   It doesn't look like this anymore.
   
   


9. Nicholas Wilton's latest video, Discerning Style, reiterated what I've been feeling.
   I'm painting over everything that does not schmeck!
   Which is a LOT of painting over!


10. Facebook is becoming less and less relevant.
    How 'bout you?