Didn't Like It

Here's a patch that I completed back in March as part of my Core Values project.

Didn't like it then.

Don't like it now.

Time to do something about that. I brush gesso over the patch in uneven thicknesses with a beat-up foam brush.

Then, with Lewis Noble as my inspiration, I start playing around with a quick sketch-like approach, making marks, painting, scratching scribbles into the paint—first on the Core Values patch and then on the back of a postcard, same colors on both.

Core Values patch moving in a new direction
with marks, paint, and scribbles

postcard with paint marker marks

postcard with collage, paint, and scribbles added

This Wild Summons

I didn't at all expect Lyanda Lynn Haupt's Mozart's Starling—a book characterized by Goodreads as "part natural history, part story, [that] will delight readers as they learn about language, music, and the secret world of starlings,"—to tap into my creative life the way it has.

But here Haupt is again, cheerleading me as I paint:

And what is this wild summons? What art is asked of us? The gift offered is different for each but all are equal in grandeur. To paint, draw, dance, compose. To write songs, poems, letters, diaries, prayers. To set a violet on the sill; stitch a quilt; bake bread; plant marigolds, beans, apple trees. To follow the track of the forest elk, the neighborhood coyote, the cupboard mouse. To open the windows, air the beds, sweep clean the corners. To hold the child's hand, listen to the vagrant's story, paint the elder friend's fingernails a delightful shade of pink while wrapped in a blanket she knit with the deft young fingers of her past. To wander paths, nibble purslane, notice spiders. To be rained upon. To listen with changed ears and sing back what we hear.

And here I am again, listening with changed ears and singing back what I hear.

newest patch

new patch in the big picture
work in progress
working title: Core Values

The Tiniest Neurons

Quoting Lyanda Lynn Haupt again:

We create from … the song just beneath our typical hearing, the murmuration that calls the tiniest neurons of our brains into flight.

Today, another undeveloped patch in Core Values catches my attention. This bit of real estate holds some collage from the very first day I put anything on this big ol' piece of foam core three months ago, as well as paint I've wiped off my brush at various junctures since then.

I've been wanting to reacquint myself with Golden Hi-Flow acrylics and also curious to see if I could mix up some taupe from regular Liquitex paints in my studio. Those are the murmurations that call a few of the tiniest neurons of my brain into flight. I do a little on-canvas journaling first, and then get going with paint.

Currently in the messy middle somewhere.

black paint-marker journaling,
then hi-flow acrylic,
then scribbles with a stylus in wet paint

homegrown acrylic taupe mix,
more stylus scribbles in wet paint;
work in progress
working title: Core Values

Receptivity to Wonder

More resonant thoughts from Lyanda Lynn Haupt's Mozart's Starling:

Receptivity to wonder is not economically productive, marketable, quantifiable. The rewards, also, stand beyond such calculation. But it is in such receptivity that we discover what draws us, and along with it our originality, our creativity, our soulfulness, our gladness, our art. Mozart found inspiration in the presence of a common bird. For us, too, the song of the world so often rises in places we had not thought to look.

I wandered way into wonder, gladness, and complete absorption while adding finishing touches to this patch, embedding little secrets en route.

The Song of the World So Often Rises
in Places We Had Not Thought to Look
5.75 x 6.5"; acrylic, ink, and collage
floral
2018
[sold]

detail

Exams

Once I (a) recognized and (b) set aside the unconscious mindset that I was taking an exam upon which my life depended and for which I hadn't prepared, and (c) saw this work in progress as the basic color-mixing and composition study that it is, I (d) relaxed more receptively into the process.

However, calling this a study puts a whole new spin on the word.

I sure never studied this hard when I was in school.

Just sayin'.

Could stop here and might be wise to do so.

…

newest patch (finished? not finished?)

detail

new patch in the bigger picture,
work in progress,
working title: Core Values
[and, yes, our lawn does need mowing]

Uncovering What You Really Have to Say

An article about writing came to mind today as I painted:

Clark: … writing is a way of thinking about something. A way of coming to grips with something. It's a way of uncovering what you really have to say. 

VT: I think a lot of people come up with a main idea once and just want to leave it at that. 

Clark: [But] … then they start writing and all the chaos of the subconscious wells up, and all the disjointed stuff comes out. Somewhere in there is the main idea -- what you really have to say. But you're going have to crush and sift and smelt it out of there. Refine and hone it … [Y]ou don't really know what you're writing about in the beginning. In writing you don't completely know where you're going until you get there. 

VT: It's that feeling of being lost I don't like.

Clark: Well, it helps if you go into it knowing you're going to change your main idea a couple times. Know you're going to start off with a map that is going to get redrawn as you go, which will leave you feeling lost and confused. But know that as the map changes, something solid is going to emerge from the fog and come into sharp focus and lead you forward. It definitely will. And it's exciting to watch your unexpected ideas unfold.

Can't say I'm feeling excited right now. In fact, why did I not stop with yesterday's 'main idea'?

Clearly, the chaos of my subconcious has welled up and landed me in the fog. Now I've got no choice but to get down to crushing and sifting and smelting. Refining and honing.

patch in progress

Rough Patch

OK, all the spaces in my Core Values grid now have paint on them.

But several of the patches have served as no more than a convenient place to unload last bits of excess paint from my brush. Shall I leave these rough patches as is or develop them?

Throwing caution to the wind, I decide I'll develop one that thus far has been a respository for pinks, yellows, and oranges:

I mix up a palette, slap new paint on the patch, tear some print collage and affix it, toss some India ink into the mix.

patch in progress

I like it!

But it's a start, not a finish.

You Can't Think Up an Idea

Again, from Lyanda Lynn Haupt's Mozart's Starling:

People always ask where I get the ideas for my books; I think all authors hear this question. And, at least for me, there is only one answer: You can't think up an idea. Instead, an idea flies into your brain—unbidden, careening, and wild, like a bird out of the ether. And though there is a measure of chance, luck, and grace involved, for the most part ideas don't rise from actual ether; instead, they spring from the metaphoric opposite—from the rich soil that has been prepared, with and without our knowledge, by the whole of our lives: what we do, what we know, what we see, what we dream, what we fear, what we love. 

Even when I might not like what appears on my canvas as I paint, I am suffused with wonder.

What is it that shows up?

Are today's marks and colors informed by the day my dad taught me how to use a Brownie camera in our front yard in Cranford when I was 8 or 9? By the peanut butter sandwich I ate for dinner when banished to solitude on the day in fifth grade when I refused to take my piano lesson? By the conversation I had yesterday with the plumber installing a shower drain in our upstairs bathroom?

newest patch

detail

detail

new patch in the big picture
work in progress
working title: Core Values

---

This patch last seen looking like this:

Serendipity

In case you haven't been paying attention, I have to tell you again how enormously, satisfyingly much fun it is to create handpainted bookmarks and then pair them with books.

Really fun.

You remember I painted a bookmark as a birthday gift for a friend earlier in May, yes? Here it is, with the book she happened to be reading at the time of her birthday.

TOTALLY love the serendipity and synchronicity!

Pull at the Quill Pen, 
paired with The Overstory

Stu-Art

Today's piece is the child of a parent piece painted last August as I prepared some starts in happy anticipation of attending Takodah family camp where I would spend a bit of time painting each morning.

Parent:


Parent dressed in finery:


First child:


Second child:


Third child:


Fourth child:


Speaking of anticipation, as I did above, twenty-four years ago I had the great honor to be one of the people supporting my sister Lauren while she was in labor before delivering her second son. Those were hours of great anticipation followed by the great excitement of welcoming Stuart to the world.

And, speaking of welcoming new life, as I just did, let me announce the birth of the fifth child of the parent piece I created last August—a bookmark I painted for Stuart for his birthday this year!

Happy birthday, Stuart!

Squinting Into the Darkened Pine-Scented Interior
5x1.75"; acrylic, ink, collage, and pastels on card stock
abstract
2018
[gift]

Inspiration-Wind

In her charming and informative book, Mozart's Starling, Lyanda Lynn Haupt comments, about her writing process:

I have come to terms with the sad truth that inspiration never visits at my convenience, nor in accordance with my sense of timing, nor at the behest of my will. Most of all, the inspiration-wind has no interest whatsoever in what I think I want to write about. 

Yeah, about that inspiration-wind.

Started fiddling today with a new patch as part of my still-ongoing project, Core Values. Every now and then, the tiniest tease of a breeze. Mostly, nothing.

journaling and mark-making

adding color, scratching wet paint

penciling irregular pentagons

This Whisper

Painting can yank me completely away from whatever thoughts are swirling in my mind and drop me into full presence.

That's the way it goes today—woo hoo!

I am awake to this whisper of bristles, this buttery blue mix, this wrinkly collage-textured surface, this blazing sunshine on my shoulder, these small muscles in my hand and wrist.

newest patch

detail

new patch in the big picture
work in progress
working title: Core Values

Don't Ask

About a year ago I bumped into these thoughts of Austin Kleon, author of Steal Like an Artist and other bestselling books:

Try this: Next time you come across someone’s work and you’re not sure exactly how they do it, don’t ask them how it’s done. Don’t go after the “right answer” like some eager honors student. Look closer. Listen harder. Then use your imagination and experiment with the tools you have. Your bad approximation will lead to something of your own.

A photograph on a book cover caught my attention recently. Each time I saw it, it pulled at me. How to capture its essence in paint? I took Kleon's words as a guide. Just kept looking closely at that photograph every so often, listening harder to what song it was singing.

Then, today, I took what my imagination had been turning this way and that, grabbed some of my tools, and started experimenting, happy to bumble along to an approximation.

Wish you could have seen me.

We had a contractor/carpenter here all day ripping up and rebuilding our 100+ year old upstairs bathroom floor. Many of his tools and materials were in—and obstructing the doorway to—my studio. Hammer was banging, power saw screaming, sawdust flying.

I navigated the obstacle course more than once, took supplies outdoors, and had just the sweetest time painting in the May sunshine.

First, I collaged wrinkly sandwich paper to a new patch on my Core Values project.

Then, I brushed black latex house paint over the whole patch.

Next, I mixed a few different blues, adjusting with black and white till I was satisfied.

After that, using a cheap castoff paintbrush that must have belonged to my kids back in the day, I painted stripes, letting the black peek through the space between the 'boards' I was creating.

Then, using a poultry lacer from the kitchen, I scratched 'wood grain' into the boards.

You know how your eyes/mind can flip back and forth between two perceptions of an optical illusion? I enjoyed that same alternating current as I painted—seeing stripes, seeing boards, seeing abstract, seeing representational. Way fun!

Tomorrow I'll continue experimenting and approximating and adventuring.

Birthday Gifts

I set the bar way too high way too soon: When my dad turned 24 in 1950 I gave him the birthday gift of my own birth!

What to give him for his birthday this year on May 13, 2018?

More years than not, we bookmark our shared day with a father-daughter photo.

Bookmark, 1951:

Bookmark, 2018:

This year I'm further bookmarking our joint birthday with a handpainted bookmark. I love picturing my dad's going off to the library, as he often does, to get a new book to read, and then keeping his place in the book with this little bit of love from me.

Captured by Gratitude
5x1.75"; acrylic, ink, collage, and pastels on card stock
abstract
2018
[gift]

This Is the Day!

This is the day the Lord has made;

let us rejoice and be glad in it.

                                     Psalm 118:24

newest patch

detail