Each layer a surface I have created.
I use water, pigments, & fluid dynamics.
The weave of the cloth, the tooth of the paper, each accepts, or resists,
shaping the marks.
Compression, heat, evaporation, & chemistry, make their impressions.
My art is made of surfaces invoked by process,
then composed in layers by an attentive eye.
To show you what I see: Earth. Her systems make beautiful change on her surfaces daily.
The green world has gone quiet or moved indoors in our northern home.
It felt like the green world left us really suddenly in early November this year. I feel like this calls for ART! Please let me show you what I know about the joys of the green, gold, dancing in the sunlight world. Maybe there is a bit of sunny day, liquid water, and light dancing in the grasses you’d like to stand in front of … If you stop by my studio you will find bits of it all over my walls.
There is an open studio coming on Nov. 2, 3, and 4 (see hours and other details on events page) to my studio in the Casket Arts Carriage House and the # one question I will I get from folks popping into the studio distills to: “Where does the art come from?” This is a particularly good time of year to answer the question, it is so on display. The light hitting the gold, red, and russet leaves, the grass that looks like it has a fiber optic line running through it to make it glow, the branches showing off the elegant architecture of trees…. all are on full display. The world is made up of light and line and color and texture humming… I am beautiful…..
Mary Oliver says it this way
“Instructions for living a life. Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it. “
The only thing I’d change about that statement is ” Instructions for living a creative life. ”
The way I ” tellabout it” is to layer fabric, paint, thread, sticks, stones, beads, clay,…well, any thing that strikes my eye as right and I can get to stay put in a stable way, I layer all these things into something that translates something from that humming energy…
Today the sun was out all day and the temp went above freezing letting our preoccupation with winter lessen for a moment. A day just for the enjoyment of sunlight and dripping. The artist sitting on the loading dock as I walked into the studio described it as the feeling when the itch stops. I made good progress on the water light pieces I am working on. Particularly happy with a layering of pale green, blue, and silky white threads delineating a curve.
Photos didn’t do it justice so I won’t post them, but my eye tells me it did just what I wanted it to do.
Today was the 4th day I’ve spent putting paint on big pieces of stretched wet white cotton. Yesterday I found the right combination of wet cloth and watered fabric paint to pour down the sides then tilt and watch it bleed
and blend the pigments. Its exciting to see the color race into the wet field but the desired final effect requires patience and attention. The motion slows and I watch for the right amount of color and motion and light expressed to stop.
There is a place on each one where I thought yes, that’s it! It feels like something I’ve seen.
I am starting a new piece today that grew out of a summer evening standing on the Ford Parkway Bridge over the Mississippi River. It was one of those summer evening that you sometimes get but are not guaranteed in our muggy Midwest. It was not hot, not cool, not damp, or dry. The air seemed kind on my skin. I believe it was August because the trees had that reaching to the leaf tip greenness they get at the end of summer. There was a cloud bank on the eastern horizon and I headed to the river to watch the sunset.
I parked on the west bank and walked across the bridge to the east bank then went back to the center. I stood facing north watching the light go by watching the surface of the water. There were greens, blues, grays, and browns that were joined by purple shadows, and pink coppery highlights reflecting the cloud bank absorbing the red light. There were ever changing textures on of the surface of the moving water. The bright tips created by air moving one way the water another danced here then over there. All of it moving, changing, new with every glance from one aspect to another. I stayed watching until the river seemed to consist of variations of murky yet steely grays, blues, & browns. I watched the flow of the river and the ebbing of the light entirely rapt, trying to catch the moment when change happened. But it was just gradual flow. The best I could do was record in my minds eye the moment to moment details my attention is capable of . Then hope to bank them for when I need to call on them to tell me if the thing I am creating has some visual truth. I have been using that experience for more than a year to create the pieces I call River Light and I begin a new one today.