The Way Back Machine (or falling through the looking glass)

This project that I am working on has required something that I haven't ever quite successfully undertaken before.  I am revisiting a piece.  March and April of 2011 consisted of me working on several pieces for a show at Townshend's Teahouse, working late at the poetHouse, with Battlestar Galactica in the background.  The product of that work was the show Feathers, Scales, and Shells.   One particular piece, The Medicine Show, was probably my favorite of all the pieces, but also the one that I felt was most incomplete.  I hung it up in my house, but never took official photos or scans of it.  It needed more time and attention, but I had moved on.  So it hung on my wall.

One of the hardest parts about the creative process is saying: done.  There are always passages of color or details that I look at, months later, and think "if only."  I often have to stop myself from grabbing the things off the wall.  But I don't come back. What's done is done, and I am in a different place.  Plus, unless it is on my own wall, it's quite rude to pull it down and say, "I'll be right back."

With this piece, the Medicine Show, I am in a dramatically different place psychically and artistically.  A good year and a half later, I'm glad to say that I've learned a bit more about my craft, and I've move on.  However, maybe with a groan, and through the urging of my sister (aka The Editrix)  I decided to grab it off the wall, to dig back into it, for the sake of problem solving  another project we have been working on (more later on that).  Oddly, it's been So Satisfying.  Stubborn and stuck at first, I gradually let myself be absorbed by the thing in front of me.

maybe I will do a before and after shot later. 

When I really dig in and get to work, that is what happens: I become absorbed.  It's like the piece I am working on is the looking glass that melts from solid to liquid, letting me pass through. This is when time falls away.  This is when the process becomes pleasure, when colors become scents and temperatures and tastes.  When I can revisit a time and place of initial creation with objectivity and patience and insight.  When all the attached stories find meaning, but then fall away with ease.

Three Zero Zero

Apparently, I have a lot to say.


This is my three hundredth blog post.

portrait of the artist as an old crow

I have scraps of paper all over the place, and post-it notes.  I am always trying to organize them into form, into thought, into sentence, paragraph, completed piece of art.  This blog began as a way for me to try to keep track of that process.  It's wild to think that I have been keeping track for what- almost five years now?

I have so much to say:

about birds
about art
about putting birds in art
about archetypes and totems and myth
about joseph campbell
about life being comical and tricky
about life imitating art

but mostly I just find myself speechless.

Maybe I will try again, with no. 301.

Thoughts and Screenshots

Fine! Fine.  This is what has been taking up my time.  This and another thirty-day challenge at Bikram Yoga Bend. 

I am compiling a book, of words/phrases/thoughts/short stories  and collage, as a way to transition from the work I have done to the work I will do.  If that makes sense.  I've had conversations with my Good Friend Jonathan about the fact that most days I feel more like an illustrator than an artist, which is a somewhat silly distinction to make, I suppose.  In doing this project, this picture book, I will explore a bit more the relationship between words and images, and maybe make a little more sense of what I do.  We shall see.  I like to give myself puzzles, and I like to keep myself distracted, and I like play with thoughts, and I like give my sister Editing Tasks (she's quite the Tim Gunn).  And, furthermore,why can't all these paths cross?

The Water Cycle

Water has an endless relationship with it’s own form: rarely staying in one shape let alone one place.  Steam, vapor, cloud, drop, flake, crystal, icicle, snowman, avalanche, puddle, pond, lake, stream, river, ocean:  all of the above, none of the above.  Again and Again and Again.

Oops Paint, Pastel, Oil Pastel, Ink.  Not too serious.

the backdoor studio

I sit on the steps of my backdoor. It is the patio, the courtyard, the secret garden, the secret studio.  I don't have a monkey on my shoulder like Frida, but I do have a Kelty dog sitting at my back.  We lean against each other as I pause from the work, taking a moment to stare at the chiggers crawling around the stone steps, hoping they don't crawl in my jeans.  The painting I am working on (well, mixed media now; I am covered in pastel dust) is one that I originally did for the bike show at the wine shop back in December, but the bikes are gone now, the painting is flipped upside down.  Now just a sea and sky swirling together, melting into each other, bubbling foam becoming clouds.  This piece is completely Un-Serious.  The forms are foggy, the colors thin and slightly muddy in spots.  I don't intend on showing it. I intend on hanging it in my bedroom, where only I and my furry assistant can see it.  It's more for the movement, the act of drawing tiny accent lines with pastel, the process of trying to get creative energy moving around.  Sketchbook process on a bigger level, perhaps.  And it gives me something to do besides dig in the dirt.   The courtyard is lovely.  Stones and leaves and light- blues sky and random artifacts of former tenants.  It's  just kinda peaceful, and that is all it needs to be.  I see it becoming a habit.

Legitimately, What are You gonna Do?

Recently, I have been faced with a few pointed questions:  What have you been working on?  Why haven't you been creating artwork?  Why do you sound so serious when you answer the phone?

And most importantly:  What is your Dream?  I don't think it is a coincidence that a lot of these questions  began the night I hung some fresh Mugwort above my bed.  Mugwort traditionally helps clarify your dreams while asleep (brings nightmares if you aren't ready for it) and also helps protect travelers when placed in their shoes (also- please note its proper name, and giggle with me).  The thing is, I thought it only affected you while you were sleeping.  I suppose I have been sleepwalking, then.  

In order to answer these important questions, I am committing to the following:

• Taking a break from teaching yoga in order to concentrate on my own practice.  I can't teach with kindness and integrity if I don't hold that space for my own self, on and off the mat.
• Taking a pretty intense inventory of this so-called life, in order to distill and identify said Dream.
• Having conversations with some fellow artists about, well, art.
• Sitting on my newly lovely-fied back patio (thanks, Moss!) as much as possible, with guitar and songs.  Feel free to come join me most evenings.  
• Bicycle, Bicycle, Bicycle.
• Updating this blog in order to hold myself accountable.
• Not apologizing in the least for undertaking some Soul Searching.  It's who I am, pretty much. Take it or leave it, Suckers. 

I believe this is an important process. Cause, What am I gonna Do, otherwise? 

Special thanks to the music of the Fleet Foxes, Bon Iver, and Neko Case for adding a lovely soundtrack to this morning's blog.

House of Snow.

Back what seems like ages ago, I was approached by Miss Laurel Brauns  to create an image for her upcoming album.  She gave me the demo disc of the songs, and free rein in creating a collage for her.  I'm almost (Almost) finished with two pieces (maybe one for the front, maybe one for the back).  I met with her on Tuesday, and she shared the finished album with me, which I think is Lovely.  If you have a chance, take a listen.

furiously working...errr procrastinating

I am cutting and pasting, and the pieces keep getting tinier and tinier as the time goes more and more quickly.  I am showing at the Teahouse for April First Friday (also April Fools, by the way) and have been working on new collages, but it is slow going.  The title of the show is Feathers, Scales, and Shells.

Shopping Trip For Art Supplies.

Shopping List-

Clear Packing Tape.
Saran Wrap.
Dirt, Twigs, Dead Leaves, Etc.
Feathers.



This is the shopping list for my first friday february piece.  It's gonna be three-dimensional.  I'm stoked.

Sarah Mik sent all of us artists a link for inspiration this morning.  It worked.



I also Love this.

The Folksinger

I met last week with a folksinger friend of mine, and she gave me a present.  The present was her latest album in rough demo form, and she is letting me filter it through my brain and hands into collage form.  She wants my artwork to grace the cover, and I am honored by the chance.  I am extra, extra excited about this project for several reasons.  Firstly, because it's almost like a collaboration.  Secondly, because I find music so inspiring to my work, and it is good to have fuel.  Finally, because it's like studying tea leaves.  I am excited and curious to see what my ear picks up on,  because that is usually exactly what I need to hear.

I saved listening to the opening track, what may be the title track, until this morning.  I put it into my car cd player as I drove home after having brunch at Sarah and Christian's flat.  I automatically had goose bumps. Ideas swarmed my brain and I wanted to pull the car over and write them down before they floated away, like Charlotte's Children on tiny threads of spider silk.

Yes, and Yes.

portraits of bicycles

My wonderful fellow artist Sarah Mik and I were having a conversation about the body of work I am painting for the Art+Bike=Love Crossculture Event for this weekends Cyclocross Nationals that are being held in Bend, and I realized that I am not painting bikes, I am painting relationships, I am painting people.

I am painting an empty tandem bicycle in mourning.
I am painting a tandem bicycle in the hope of future partnerships.
I am painting bikes circling in a beautiful desert landscape as representative of the community that I have so grown to love.
I am painting bikes in an ambiguous landscape (next to a river? next to a seaside? in the clouds, flying?) as a transition into my installation work for the show- bicycles made of feathers... (see last years bike made from tree branches) as a way to fly.
I am painting a bike bright red with a basket full of feathers on the front.
I am painting a portrait of a bike whose body language is eerily like kelty's.
I am painting a map for the bicycles to move forward, to find new terrain.

The Weight of the World.

The world is light and it fits on my shoulder.   Well, this one does anyway.  Today, the girls (Cyr and Jo) went thrifting in order to gather art supplies.  We hit the jackpot.  I found Four globes for the beginning of an installation(it's Earth Day, twas meant to be).  I am going to be painting new maps on the globes, creating new worlds.   Reworking, retelling, creating new constellations.

I also found a super cool hat, and a lovely new umbrella which will be in our bag of tricks for next week's soon-to-be-named Spring Art Adventure, a four day trek into the Steens Mountains.  Similar to last summer's  "Paint the Hills and Call Them Ours," which resulted in much art and merrymaking.

Not much to speak of. But some to show.

"go and find the people that you know (nothing happens here that doesn't happen there)" 

March got away from me.  It feels like every time I went to update this little bloggity-blog something else pulled me away. Still- I have a bit to show for it (though the viewfinder in my camera is now a lovely abstract bit of cracked lcd screen).    

         

From the top: a bit of Cara Thayer and Louie Van Patten's amazing collaborative work that hung at Lone Pine during the month of March.  The progression of a collaborative painting I did with Mr. Tom Monson, which is now in the hallway of TBD Loft.   Detail of one of Jo Lundberg's  pieces from her solo show(Something to Sleep On).  Detail of "if I'm lost it's only for a little while" by Tom Monson, from his solo show(fake it 'til ya feeeeel it)  currently up at the PoetHouse. 

steady as it goes part two.

Still workin on this piece. . .

In other news, I have been walkin walkin walkin for the last week and a half, due to car trouble. It's made for some lovely early morning walks to work and the studio.

We live in a beautiful world.

Steady as it goes.

First Friday is six days away again (gotta love how short February is sometimes)... Made great progress on this collage which will be for the subtheme ("who we are") that TBD Loft is hosting over the next few months dealing with the idea of Community.  Just a peak of what I'm cooking up- this one's gonna be large...

Speaking of COOKING- there is a chili cook off tomorrow night at the PoHo, and the prize for the best chili (both hot and mild will receive awards) will be original artwork by yours truly and my precious roomie Jo Lundberg.... the slots are filled for competing but the tasting is all open!

When In Doubt, Clean it out.

just starting this one for next week's first friday...

view from Cyr's snowboard

I cleaned my studio on Tuesday.  Recycled probably forty pounds of magazines that I had strip mined for collage material.  Uncovered work I hadn't touched since October.  Moved my desk from one side of my cubicle to another.  Started re-cataloging scraps of paper.   Then I got to spend Wednesday up at the mountain under blue-bird skies.  Maybe it was the sunshine, or the spine-rattling splat I took, but my brain feels more uncluttered and ready for art.  And now, back to work.

started in October, need to get back to it.

A Wall.

Wahhh. Wahh. Wahhhh. Wahhhh....


I don't want to create tonight.  I am sitting in the studio, scissors staring at me, this piece staring at me.  I started it in July.  It's January.

There are ways to get around this wall.  I know it. Bust through, perhaps.

There is an artist named Tom Friedman, who is very conceptual.  Sometimes he is a smartypants.  Or he was a few years ago, anyway.  I saw a show back in 2001 at the New Museum of Contemporary Art in New York that was full of his works that were hilarious and infuriating at the same time.  One was a piece of artists paper, framed and mounted to the wall.  It was blank.  The title and medium:  1000 Hours of Staring.  Yep.   I know how it feels, buddy.  

art+ bike Love

In a couple weeks, thousands of rowdy bicycles will ascend on our little town for a cyclo-cross championship.

The PoetHouse, along with the TBD Loft and many downtown business, is hosting a special mid-month Friday Art Hop, focusing on two-wheels for inspiration.  My collages will be on display at Clutch, but I am working on something slightly different for the  PoetHouse.    The development of my compass obsession has moved onto maps,  I have been creating whimsical little map narratives on paper and wood with pen and ink, and this week I will move into paint as well... A sneak peak:

Yes, it is backwards... Photo booth does that...

Small Packages, Little Birds

yes. and yes.

     what, not who.        this fading summer.

from take off to landing

i can see a lot of bright in you

thunder and lightning gets you rain

my little chickadees

as the crow flies

I am participating in the third year of Bohemia Gallery's "Good Thing's Come in Small Packages" show.  These little birds are all about four by four inches, diminutive for sure. I am about to frame them up and ship them out, just in the nick of time...

"if everyone ate flowers"

And suddenly, there is a whole series of new collages waiting for me to build them.  After spending a week lakeside in Minnesota with my family, the muse decided that I have had enough R and R.  It is time to work.

I read quite a bit by the lake: the Little Prince, Ladders to Fire, and just finished Life of Pi when I got home.  It was a passage in Ladders to Fire that opened the gates.  One of the characters, Djuna, describes how her brother went crazy when the second world war began.  He started eating flowers, believing that "if everyone ate flowers, peace would come to the world."  

And then there was the Newport Folk Festival.  NPR has amazing coverage, downloadable podcasts of live sets by Neko Case, Iron and Wine, Gillian Welch, The Avett Brothers.  Listening to the live sets of songs that have been my background music for the last several years, with accents on different verses and nuanced choruses, brings a brand new perspective to the simplest things, it's like looking through Cyr's photos and seeing how she composes photos with a different eye.  

It seems like everyone is in the studio, which is another encouraging sign.  Tom Monson hangs a solo show on Friday.  Jo has begun a new painting as well.  The PoetHouse at its best.