thoughts on art and creative living

My recent move to a new residence took the wind out of my sails for a bit, especially since I fell prey to a cold almost immediately following my landing. The necessity of making the bills always prevails, so there’s been more time catching up with web clients and planning classes than in the studio lately. Whenever I can’t get into the studio much, I set myself to achieve at least some small accomplishments there, so I finished this little self-portrait that I began earlier last year (above).  It’s not a perfect semblance, but it feels like me.  The little bird floats above the abstract patterning of dendrites (the branched projections of neurons that communicate with each other through electrochemical stimulation).   My father was a biologist, so I’ve always had a fascination with the subject, though my understanding of it is more mystical than scientific.  (Incidentally, it doesn’t bother me that tree branches are reflected in the glass of this photo, as it seems to add to the theme in this context).

Part of what forced me to complete this little painting is that a collector of my work wanted to purchase it. They also bought a painting that I created earlier in my career:

“The Captive Heart” was created shortly after I finished an artist’s residency in Colorado, so I think the date goes back to 1994-5. I have to admit that I’m a rather poor chronological-er of my own work. During my early career,  it was enough for me to remember to sign my artworks, much less put a date on them.

A little about “The Captive Heart”:

First of all, the theme (as one might guess) is one of emotional vulnerability, of feeling that one’s heart is exposed. The figure of the woman is inspired by an image of a Mexican sculpture of Mary… and I’ve place her in a room flooded with water (symbolic of swimming in an emotional space).  A mocking-bird flies within this captive space, delivering a flower.  The sticks with holes drilled in them are a reference to a little illustration I found in my father’s Scientific American magazine.  The referenced article was illustrating the path of a bird as it collected seeds in a controlled experiment (i.e., the flight-line represents the path the bird took when either collecting or depositing seeds within the branches).  As an added mystery to the story-line of this visual puzzle, a man is portrayed outside the window, collecting branches.  I leave it to the viewer to decipher the meaning of all this personal iconography.

Some of the things that continue to inspire me is the similarity of the patterning of branches and the branching of arteries/veins.   And birds… which are ever-present in my works, for reasons that are not entirely clear to my self.  I suppose I see them as messengers of spirit.

Another important note (for me) about this painting is that it was the piece that signaled a change in my way of working.  Though it is painted on illustration board, the “open heart” and window gave me the idea for painting on layers of plexiglass, which gave me a way of creating images behind images (or images above and below, on separate panels).  Today, I go back and forth between painting on wood panels and painting on plexi.  I love the 3-dimensional layering that’s created in my plexi-paintings, but it is also something that slows me down and forces me to be more precise.  For this reason, I’ve decided to limit its use to my smaller paintings in the future.  When I want to work more spontaneously, I’ll work on larger panels or canvases.

The couple who bought this piece also bought one other earlier piece of my work which was also a step in my development towards painting on different levels, rather than a singular flat surface.  “The Connection” was painted around 1993, while I was an artist-in-residence at Anderson Ranch, in Colorado.

I had a strong desire to break out of the picture plane, so I used a scroll-saw to cut the shapes of the tree , and the aveoli that makes up the woman’s body.  (Alveoli are tiny sacs in the lungs that perform gas exchange, allowing the body to get rid of carbon dioxide and convert it to oxygen).  Her lungs are actually fed by the tree (the branch on the left turns into her veins)… symbolizing this exchange of carbon dioxide to oxygen.  Behind them is a sky filled with stars and a red curtain (the theatre of life)…  a sculpture (borrowed from some cathedral?) that represents the idea that this life can be cut off at any time…. also a man witnessing the scene, and a couple doves with vegetation and flowers.  The woman’s face seems Victorian (if not Queenly).  I don’t even recall how I arrived at this theme.  I tend to be a gatherer of images… and even if I don’t glue them down into collages, I often borrow a “little of this, a little of that” from various sources, allowing myself to re-sort them in ways that make sense to my painter’s hand.  Thus, science, mythology and art history are synthesized within my aesthetic realm.

It’s been most of a month since my move, but the physical requirements of making it all happen put my body in such a state of exhaustion that it’s taken me this long to get back on track. First of all, I am not one who can live out of boxes for any amount of time. The aesthetics of place (and the sanity of knowing where everything is located) is simply too important to me to let myself rest. So the feathering of the nest began pretty much immediately… followed by a near-total collapse (and I’m still recovering).

I’ve only had few visitors since the move, but immediately upon seeing this little attic space, the word “sweet” always comes up. We are situated on the third floor of a lovely home west of Mt. Tabor, which is my new favorite Portland neighborhood. Here’s my favorite part: a panoramic view from the window of the enclosed porch that I’ve made into my office:

It’s been a while since I’ve created any updates… not because I don’t have anything going on, mind you. More likely, I have TOO much going on, and not enough time to write about it. First of all, I finally decided I’d had enough of trying to get anything done in my dreary basement studio, so I decided to begin renting a space in a cooperative artists’ space. I’m sharing it with another artist, so my personal space is about half the size of my last space, but what a difference it makes to have lots of light and tall ceilings!   Here’s a little visual tour, starting with the view from the entrance, then an above view:
.… then moving clockwise around my personal creative space:
.I built all the shelves from scrap wood, and have been busy meticulously planning everything so that there’s space for everything..I’m finding that I really like having everything within reach, and the possibility of working on several things at once.
.Maryanne’s space is on the opposite wall, where we both have access to the large, south-facing window. We also have some shared shelves some 10 feet away, against the entrance-wall.
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I’m still finishing up the building of all of my shelves, but I feel that I’ve been pretty successful in making a small space work for me. There’s also some extra space at the entrance which will be used as an exhibition space once I’ve finished the shelves (too much dust to leave things uncovered at this point).

Below is an image of what’s currently on my easel. It’s not finished yet, but far enough to feel excited about sharing it. I’m continually amazed by how many of my paintings develop. Usually I begin without any real intention for what the imagery will become. Then ideas spring to me while I’m in the process of creating. Images fall into my hands at the appropriate moment… and then the magic happens.

This began with a panel that I found in someone’s free box. It had an abstract painting on it which I painted over with dripped paint and sponging. That sat for about a year as just a “nice background texture”. Once I moved into this studio, I pulled it out. After going through my folders of images, I selected a black-and-white image (around 1 1/2″ square) of a 5th century Indian sculpture. There was something in the expression that interested me, so I painted it. Then I came upon this image of these weird birds. Fortunately I kept enough of the original article to identify them as “hoatzins”. They were in an article I found called “The Strangest Birds on Earth” (I can’t remember the source I plucked it from, though perhaps a Natural History magazine). Why this woman is taking a regatta ride with these huge birds by her side is as much a mystery to me as anyone else. After committing myself to this theme, I learned that hoatzins are an “unusual species of tropical bird found in swamps, riverine forests of the Amazon and the Orinoco delta in South America” (Wikipedia). I also learned that they can’t swim and that they are poor fliers, so perhaps the idea of them taking a boat ride is not so unusual. What surprises me is that they are not (yet) an endangered species, since they are reported to be fairly unwary. Perhaps they have been saved by the fact that they give off a foul smell when threatened, and they don’t taste good (a common nickname for them is “stinkbird”). Now I have another reason to travel to the Amazon river forests. I am very interested in the indigenous cultures of this area, and now I’m totally fascinated by these birds!

Now that my studio move is nearly complete, I can now concentrate on packing, organizing and getting rid of some of my belongings. Moving every couple of years is the only thing that prevents me from becoming a total pack-rat! At the end of this month I’ll be moving into my new home at the base of Mt. Tabor. More updates will come after everything is in place!

A few months ago, I submitted several images for the publication of the 2011 edition of We’Moon calendar. I’ve just found out that two of my images will be featured in the datebook!

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“Blooming Meditation” and “Aqua Bird Dream” have been some of my more popular sellers whenever I sell my prints or note-cards, so I guess it’s no surprise that these are the ones that caught the jurors’ attention.  What’s even more exciting is that “Aqua Bird Dream” will also be featured in the wall calendar.  Since only 12 images are chosen for this, it’s a special honor.  I’m so delighted to be included in this wonderful publication which has a far-reaching (and devoted) audience!

In celebration of this, I’ve decided to offer prints of these two images at a special low price, for anyone interested in collecting my prints before I hit the big time.    For a limited time, I’m offering prints of these images mounted on wood for a special low price of only $20 each! (normally $24-29 retail, depending on location).  These full-color prints are glued to a 1/2″ thick, quality plywood.  The edges are painted black, and the images are sealed with 2 layers of UV-protection varnish. “Blooming Meditation” is 8×8 inches, and “Aqua Bird Dream” is 8×10.  They’re both ready to hang, or they can also sit on a table or small easel. Or, if you prefer, for the same price you can get either of these images (same size as the mounted prints) on a thinner piece of wood with a glass front, sealed with copper edging.  Just send me an email if you’d like to order either of these.  I will apply $3-4 shipping cost (depending on weight)… or if local, we can arrange for free delivery!

One more offer.  If you’d like note-cards of these, I can also offer them for a special low price of only $3 each, or 4 for $10.

I’m finally done with Christmas shows, and am resting up from the exertion of cranking out pendants and prints to sell.  I’ve started a new product that I’m quite happy with and will add to my store soon.  In the meantime, here’s a glimpse of my new “altar pieces”, which are prints mounted to board, with beveled glass and copper edging:

The above pieces measure 4 1/2″ x 6 1/2″. The beveled glass and copper edging adds to their physicality, and each have hangers on the back.. though you might prefer to sit them on a small table easel. I also did some slightly larger square prints that are 6 inch square. (You can get a clearer view by clicking on any of these pics to open the pic in a new page, then click on that image for an enlargement).

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The retail prices on these are $25 each, but if you’d like to order one before  Christmas, I’ll discount them to $20. Shipping cost will probably run $3-4. Email me if you’d like to make an order.

Many blessings for a beautiful Christmas!

I’ve just finished mounting a show of artworks with the artist Amy Livingstone.  The show is located at the Doll Gardner Gallery (within the West Hills Unitarian Universalist Fellowship). Here’s our blurb for the show:

Synchronicity brought Robin Urton and Amy Livingstone together, leading to an awareness of a shared artistic vision rooted in reverence for the earth. Drawing inspiration from a combination of personal reverie, sacred mythologies, and the world’s spiritual traditions, this exhibit reflects the sensibility of creating art as a sacred act. The intention of the work is to awaken hearts to beauty and the divine presence woven throughout the fabric of everyday life.

I was asked by the curator of the gallery if I’d be interested in having a show, and my only conflict was in having enough work to fill the spacious walls without taking work from my other 2 galleries. This problem solved itself rather miraculously when Amy called the day before my meeting with the gallery. She was looking for a “sanctuary space” to show her own artworks, but wasn’t expecting for an opening to be just a few weeks away. Her canvas paintings of mandalas and sacred artworks are the perfect compliment for my reverie-inspired plexiglass and panel paintings.  Here’s a photo of the 2 of us at the opening:

Though not a common subject for either of us, the artworks that we are pictured with happen to  be our individual responses to 911 and the aftermath of the Iraq War.  Amy’s painting was inspired by a vision she had on a train returning from a the Day of Remembrance ceremony on the 14th (a few days after the attacks), where she saw 2 hands caressing the earth, lifting it out of the ashes. In my painting, “False Liberator”, the blind-folded angel represents a false savior for a culture she knows little about.  Islamic buildings burn in the background while helicopters fly above the scene.

In an informal talk during the opening, we both expressed thoughts about the healing nature of art, and how creating art in itself can be likened to a sacred act. One of the more memorable questions from the audience was whether we felt that art had as much relevance in these times of economic recession.   Amy referred to a comment of a very young member of the congregation, who said that he felt that “the world would be a gray place without art”.  I responded that, even though fewer people can afford original art during an economic downturn, the need for art is perhaps even greater than usual. Art consoles and lifts our spirits.  Of course, it’s sometimes necessary for artists to find supplemental means of supporting themselves, but it’s increasingly important for us to keep the faith that’s required to continue creating our art, whether the sales support it or not.  (I know that I personally need to create art in order to maintain any optimism in my life, so I hope that when the economy returns I’ll have plenty of art stored up when the pendulum returns!)

One great thing about planning for art shows is that it does force me to complete artworks that were sitting dormant for a while.  In addition to “Primordial Slumber”, which graces the invitation, I also completed another painting that I started some time ago.  Here’s a photo of the latest version of my painting, “Deep River Dream”:

It’s usually the case that my favorite painting is whichever one I just finished, so right now, this and “Primordial Slumber” tie for being the closest to my heart.  This one definitely flowed out of me like a dream.  I started with acrylic on frosted mylar, letting the imagery suggest itself through the paint.  The bird was the first image to emerge, then the swirling sky, the star-flowers, then finally the reclining woman, who seems to have dreamed the entire scene into being.   As the swirling sky met the horizon, it became a river.  I decided to let it the river flow out of her ear.  This may seem too eerie for some, but who am I to argue with the suggestions of  my imagination?  (a preliminary version of this painting can be seen on this earlier post).  The painting was re-worked in oil glazes, then surrounded with a gold-leaf border.

If interested in reading more, Amy Livingstone has written a very enlightening article about the show on her blog: Reverence and Art as Prayer.

Months have led up to a recent “breakthrough painting” that I feel really proud of sharing with everyone. I feel like a lot of synchronistic events led up to the birthing of this one. A recent impulse led to taking a solo trip to the Oregon coast. As soon as I began walking the path through this particular forest, I felt this was the place that called me here. In fact, I would go so far as to say that it is places like this that called me to move from magical Taos, to a place that was closer to my birth.

Soon after discovering this place, a friend from New Mexico came to visit me, and I just had to share this special forest with her. She had the same kind of magical response to it. When she saw this hollowed out tree covered with moss and ivy, she acted on her impulse to curl up underneath it. She settled into this most perfect pose within a minute. All I had to do was take the picture, and I knew immediately it would be a wonderful subject for a painting. In fact, it was SO perfect that my biggest challenge was how I would go about creating something that could rival the photo.

I decided I wanted to work on frosted mylar, as I love it’s smooth, translucent surface. First, I made a very general sketch on an 18 x24 sheet. After getting the basic composition in, I added the first layer of acrylic paint… and then a more specific sketch of my subject with colored pencils.

I decided to begin with glazes of paint, pressing plastic wrap into them to obtain a random texture. Once that’s done, I started adding more textured details using a combination of sponging and impasto texturing.

The detail below shows that at this point I am working in a very abstract manner, allowing the paint itself to suggest the texture of the leaves and moss:

I continue to add more layers, but eventually get to a point when I’m not sure where else to take it. Other than adding more detail, what can I do to bring this in a direction that’s more personal than copying the photo?

It was fortunate that I happened to take a collage class at this point. Creating a small collage helped me to decide that I needed to create a color shift of the branches, changing the grayish limbs to a purplish blue brought out more of the fantasy element that this scene inspired within me. (I make more specific mention of the collage process in a previous post).

Now that I’m on track with what the painting is asking of me, I have more energy to devote to its completion. It also happens that I’ve been asked to do a show and since I’ve decided that this piece will grace the invitation, it creates more energetic fire to stay up til 4 or 5 am for several nights. My creative juices always seem to flow much better in the evening.

I had a lot of fun adding details to the moss and leaves. “God(dess) is in the details”.

I also had a lot of fun with the patterns in her skirt.

I was amazed when I enlarged my photo of Olivia to discover that she had wrapped her prayer beads around her hand. This little detail adds more meaning to the picture. When I contemplate this pose, I think of nesting… resting in the womb of the earth. She feels sheltered, embraced by the roots that wrap around her.

It was hard for me to decide on a title for this painting. I had an idea of what it meant to me, but putting words to it were eluding me, so I queried many friends to see what they thought. It was enlightening to hear how many suggestions alluded to ideas of nesting, the womb, Gaia (mother earth), cocooning, and gestation. The image reminds me that deep within the forest I feel a natural home. Walking through an old growth forest, in particular, I feel awakened to a sense of magic… an awareness of how ALIVE the earth is. This awareness enlivens my senses, brings me out of the doldrum of (too much) activity…. and reminds me of my ancestral belonging.

(my discoveries at art camp)

For the past month, my energy has been consumed by creating websites, teaching classes, and cranking out jewelry and reproductions for art fairs. In the first week of August alone, I did 3 fairs (in Portland, Sellwood, and on the Oregon coast, in Yachats). Summer is the time for this and I’ve met lots of wonderful people through it, but production work is exhausting, so when the time came for my week of art camp at Menucha, I was ready for five days of focus on nothing but art!

I had learned about the Arts at Menucha programs through Susan Schenck, a student from last semester.  She was solving a color theory assignment with a remarkable collage technique that she said she learned from a class with Linda Berkley.  I knew Linda some 15 years ago when we were both “artists in residence” at Anderson Ranch Arts Center, in Colorado.  I decided to take Linda’s collage class offered through the Arts at Menucha program.  The workshops are located along the beautiful Columbia River Gorge, in Corbett, Oregon.  The name Menucha has Hebrew roots, meaning something similar to “place of still waters”, and the motto of the Menucha community is “Sacred Space, Purposeful Work”.  The place lives up to its motto, as the environment encourages both creative and spiritual growth.

One of my primary intentions in working with collage was to use it as a means of working out compositions for my paintings.  My first experiment was to try to resolve a nearly completed painting of a woman curled up at the roots of a mossy tree. (I’ll share more process photos of this as my painting reaches completion in another  post, since there were many steps involved in its creation before the collage exploration).  One of my dilemmas was that I felt that the painting was too similar to the photograph I had taken for its inspiration.  I wanted to add some more abstract elements, but didn’t know which direction to take it.  Linda suggested that I create a small thumbnail drawing of the painting, then do a quick collage using black and white paper, followed by a color collage of magazine scraps:

The operative word here was “quick”, as she wanted to push me towards my own expressed intention of making more spontaneous choices.  When she said I had “5 more minutes” to finish my color collage,  I hadn’t even found all the colors I needed to complete it.  It was partly from the frustration of not finding the right color that I ended up creating the purple branch that surrounds the shape of the figure.  This part of the painting originally had more grayish tones.  When I changed the branch to blue-purple in the painting, there was an “AHA” moment, in the realization that what it needed was a more saturated color in this area.  I feel that it brings out the yin-yang relationship between the upward-reaching (cool) blue branches vs. the downward flow of the (warmer) mossy green branches.

On the second day of class, it was suggested that we create a collage based on a thumbnail sketch of something drawn from observation.  Linda gave the example of using a plant in the room, looking out the window, or going outside into the landscape.  I decided to go outside since we were in such a beautiful natural setting.  I found a tree that interested me and made a few small thumbnails, followed by a longer study.  I then went about painting papers in the color scheme that I’d conceived (instead of hunting for specific colors in magazines).  Originally, the tree was going to be in blues and purples, with a reddish sky.  I started with the sky but was disappointed when I tried to build the tree with the blue papers.

By the next morning I had another idea when I saw some textured paper sitting on the top of my stack of collage materials.  It was actually a monoprint made with inked aluminum foil.  I didn’t have enough of this texture to complete my design, so I brought it to the copy machine, creating a range of values and magnifications of the texture.  I tinted the ground in green, to differentiate it from the roots somewhat.  I later added a photo of an owl (after creating another collage which included an owl).  It seems to complete the piece, suggesting more of  a narrative.

Our next assignment was to collaborate with a student in the writing class.  We were asked to give one of our collages to the writing department, where it would be randomly paired with a student. We were also given a randomly selected piece of writing to respond to.  We had 5 students, whereas the writing class had 4, so the teacher also participated.   I later found out that the poem that was given to me was by the writing teacher, Ann Staley.

“Ars Poetica” (on the nature of poetry)

It was all fading,
the dream hitchiked to Kansas.
Hot water, eyes closed -
everything too fast.
Six unknowns,
the refrain.
Lovefest in a sacred place.
But, of course,
the fragments in the desert:
broken down truck &
3-legged table,
bicycle tires, mismatched:
what is abandoned,
reclaimed by attention
and her cousin, purposeful work.

I took my direction from the dreamy feeling, and particularly the phrases, “eyes closed”, and “Lovefest in a sacred place”.  I had brought an image of a painting by one of my favorite artists, Odilon Redon, so I decided to quote it in my collage.   The suggestion of a desert prompted me to create a turban from magazine fragments of cloth.  I then made use of my painted papers and xeroxed fragments of my monoprint texture.  I played with putting a pressed flower in the corner opposite the face, but couldn’t commit to it, so off I went to the copy machine again.

At this time, I discovered that the laser copier was also capable of making color copies and reverse images, so I decided to play with a symmetrical composition.  The idea of adding an owl came from the fact that I had a dream that an owl flew at my face.  The dream occurred the morning I left for Menucha, and since I had a difficult time removing the owl from my face, I decided she had a strong desire to be included in my experiments.  I first painted the owl on vellum, then photocopied it in a few sizes to find the right relationship with the composition.  This is, for me, one of the most wonderful aspects of  using collage: the fact that you can choose to move things around, which is not possible once you’ve committed to an image in painting.

The pressed spray of Queene Anne’s lace flowers ended up being a “nest” for the baby owl crying for its mother.  (I realize that I need to add some color to differentiate this from its textured background). If I end up making a painted version of this collage, the 2 dreaming figures will have clasped hands holding the nest. They may transform into a man and a woman with similar features.

On the fourth day, we displayed our collaborative collages and writings where the rest of the Menucha community could see them, in the cafeteria.  My collage was placed underneath Ann’s poem.  Coincidentally, I found that the collage that I gave to the writing class was paired with a response by the same writer (Ann Staley).  Since my collage was not signed, she had no indicator as to its orientation, and ended up responding to the image on its side.  Once I saw it totally divorced from its relationship to my painting, I also saw it with new eyes.  I’ve included her poetic response below:

I was particularly struck by the fact that my absent figure became a rock, and that she even made mention of “who is missing from this collage, and why are they missing?”  I also contemplate the scraps and bits I didn’t use, and the fact that they might be reincarnated into yet another collage or painting.  Perhaps I’ll continue the process and create another collage based on her poem.  Maybe this time I’ll consider the presence of the wind.  Perhaps this is just another new beginning.

With 1/2 day of my class remaining,   I decided to make use of the leftover copies of the dreaming faces.  Again, I played with symmetry, this time creating a triangular composition.  The effect is a bit more abstract.  It takes a moment to even recognize that these are mirrored fragments of a person (it’s difficult to discern the gender, which is my preference).

Now home, I continue to play with my collage experiments by cropping and changing the hues of some of my compositions in Photoshop.  I went with the intention to finish some unresolved paintings, but instead came back with more ideas to generate into new paintings.  I also feel that I have found a new way of working, and a few more tools to explore.

On the morning that I left for art camp, there were a couple other dreams that bear mentioning.  In the first place, I knew within the dream that I was at Menucha , as I was surrounded by a group of people when the owl flew at me.  Although the owl would not get off of my face, I wasn’t horrified by it.  As I struggled to remove it, I told the others to throw some water on its head (I have a vague memory that someone at the center had instructed me to do this if ever the situation should occur, as if it were a likely possibility).  I then went out to my car and found a blue bird flying in it.  At this point, I remember  that that earlier in the day I’d seen a bird on my palette, on the table next to my easel. It was a dream within a dream… not too disimilar to the process of creating in collage.  I still ponder what it all means and what the birds have to say to me.  Rather than answering the question, I prefer to suggest the mystery.

An artist named Belinda Subraman recently combined my artwork with poetry and music in this video that she produced, titled “Whose Cries Are Not Music”

Poetry by Linda Bennbinghoff, music by Ken Clinger, with reading and production by Belinda Subraman.

Rate and/or comment this video on YouTube

Also, my work was selected to grace the cover of a new book!

Ghost Symptoms: Break The Spell And Be Well (Paperback)
by Kelly Kiernan Ray

Amazon Link

Ghost Symptoms explains how experiences such as emotional trauma and spirit interference affect the human energy field. I enjoy the personal tone of Kelly Ray’s story-telling of personal transformation. I wasn’t very open to the idea of spirit attachments before reading this book, but now understand that it may very well be a common occurrence.  Even without this interest, the personal stories, case studies and historical perspectives makes this a very good read. I especially find the “Claim Your Space” technique very helpful for grounding and clearing my energy field.

Other things on the Horizon:

If you are in Portland, check out my upcoming art classes on my events page. It also includes local galleries where you can see my work in person.

Here I am, trying to get a better view of the Oregon coast from my perch.  It looks like I’m enjoying a morning brew, but that’s actually my camera I’m holding.  For the most part, I enjoy being behind the camera instead of in front of it (though I tend to enjoy photos of the back of my head, blurry, or sometimes caught in a spontaneous moment).

I haven’t been on a trip to the coast since I did a show in Yachats last Summer.  Even then, I didn’t have enough time to thoroughly enjoy where I was (being too concerned with managing my booth), so I decided this time it would be something I would do just for the experience of feeding my need to travel.  It’s also a tme for image-gathering.  Being in unfamiliar places always brings out the photographer in me, and this trip was no exception.

At first I felt disappointed that it rained throughout most of my trip.  I went for clarity, and what I got was rain.  In an ironic way, this is exactly the right circumstances for clarity because it tends to make me more introspective.  And of course, there is a beauty to it as well.  In fact, sometimes it’s what you don’t see well that makes an image all the more poetic.   

Here’s my view of Cape Perpetua.  It was drizzling on and off, and when I got to the lookout, the rain clouds opened up just enough to see below.

I had a dream about the coast before I decided to travel here.  I was looking out at a magnificent view of the ocean.  In the dream, the light was dazzling as it reflected on the waves. My dreaming self asked if I would be able to muster the courage to jump if I had to… and the answer that came back to me was YES.  I knew when I awoke that this was not any kind of death-wish, but the clear recognition that I have the ability to pursue my dreams… and to survive whatever circumstances arise.  It was this dream that encouraged me to take a one-day intuitive painting workshop  (An Artist’s Life, with Diane Hoff-Rome)  in Monroe (between Corvallis and Eugene).  From there I decided to visit a friend in the coastal town of Florence… then to travel up the coast to Cannon Beach before returning to Portland.

In retrospect, the workshop had more to do with learning to trust myself (or jump into the ocean) than I had realized.  We spent much of our time drawing or painting with our eyes closed.  This is an odd shift for me.  I have a hard time letting go of control, but when I do, it is indeed liberating.  And I was actually surprised that some of my favorite drawings were those I had done with either my eyes closed, or using my non-dominant hand.  Double-blind drawings (not looking at the view or the paper), combined with using my non-dominant hand was a bit too much of a stretch for me.  Perhaps I need to give up control incrementally (like learning to swim in a pool before I dive into the ocean).

Though I had to work fast with this landscape, it did have the general feel of the scene that I viewed from the studio window.  The second image simply began with a gesture, instead of anything seen.  The archetypal image of trees are within me, however… so it’s no surprise that this is what my hand spontaneously creates.

Later in the trip, my friend, Jackie, snapped this photo of me absorbing the energy of a giant tree.  It turns out we both have a special attraction to old-growth forests. Once we entered the enchanted forest, we were in another world…

While we took plenty of pictures of the ocean, we were even more entranced by the more intimate spaces created within the wooded landscapes bordering the beaches.  We succumbed to our elf-selves, taking pictures of trees, roots, moss, mushrooms, leaves…

A kind stranger offered to click a pic of the both of us, adding her own unique twist:

Back on my own, I stopped at many of the look-out points and a few parks.  My favorite beach entrance was Oswald West, between Manzanita and Cannon Beach.  You are required to walk 1/4 mile through an ancient forest, along a river path, before you reach the beach. If you are a fan of mossy tree stumps, like me, this is the place to go (if you believe in fairies and tree spirits, you’ll probably find them here too!)

The cavern created by the hollowed out roots of this tree became my meditation spot.  To give some perspective as to size, I could stand completely erect beneath it.

Once I found the spot at the beach where I most resonated, I asked the ocean for any guidance that may come.  The first word was “Paint!”  Looking at the birds circling in the sky, I heard, “Fly!”… Looking at the waves, I heard “Flow”, and watching the surfers attempt to ride the waves, I thought, “Wait for the wave, then throw yourself into it!”

So those are the lessons of my journey.  Now is the time to apply them to my life.

I’ve finally figured out how to get the pics off of my camera phone, so I’m waaaay behind in updating some of my students’ artworks!  Here’s some samples from current and past classes.   (I’m so proud of everyone!)

Intuitive Painting and Collage

These are from a class that met for 4 sessions.  Students combined textural painting techniques, image transfers, stencils (and gold-leaf in some cases)

“Dynamic Still-Life Painting” (Spring Semester)

“Get Started Painting” (Spring semester “In Process” Shots)

“Interpretive Landscape”

Winter Semester (“Get Started Painting” class)

Simple Still-Life, Winter Semester “Get Started Painting” Students

Portraiture, “Get Started Painting” (Winter semester)

I forgot to bring my camera the day that my class played with the subject of portraiture.  Tony  (a student who is an experienced watercolorist, but new to acrylic painting), sent me this photo of a painting he began in class, but finished at home.  The assignment required working from a small photograph, making artistic choices to alter the original.

My blog entries have been a bit sparse lately.  I went through a period of being overly busy with creating websites, then with planning classes, now I’m building walls in my basement studio, and won’t be getting much done in there until the building and re-organization is through.  When I find myself overwhelmed with clutter, it’s time to make some drastic changes, and Spring is a good time for this.

I’ve decided to share some images of mixed media artists whom I find inspiring.  I look to other artists when I’m needing a little jump-start on ideas, so I hope my students and web visitors might find some inspiration in these as well.  I’ve included the website links so that you can feast your eyes on more. (You can also click on images for a larger view):

Teesha Moore: www.teeshamoore.com, teeshascircus.blogspot.com

I just can’t get enough of Teesha Moore’s art!  She creates her collages primarily within the pages of her journals.  She details her process on her website.  To simplify, she first lays down a wash of either watercolor or acrylic, then adds collage elements, then uses water soluble artist crayons. Finally, she draws and writes with markers and gel pens.  I personally love the way the words become a visually important part of the work.

Anahata Katkin: www.anahata.typepad.com, http://www.anahataart.com

Anahata is the creator of my favorite note card company, PaPaYa!.  She explores painting, collage, and digital media in her personal artworks.  I love what she says within her statement on her bio page, so I’ll include it here:

“To me the beauty of so much of the mixed media and journal arts movement is the personal quality of it. How it is often born out of necessity in ones life and continues through a series of impulses, triumphs and challenges. My own artwork is gritty and often unripe. And I like it this way. I like that what I want to do feels just out of reach. That there isn’t a pressure to perform and yet there is great satisfaction in the making of things…and the sharing of things. I guess that’s my own little irony. I try very hard to create artwork for myself and nothing more. And when I succeed in getting out of my own way- I share it with the rest of the world. That’s my formula.”

Cheri Lee Charlton: www.cherileecharlton.com

I “met” Cheri Lee on MySpace, and was immediately taken by her seductive use of materials in her mixed media artworks.  In particular, she has a series of paintings created on doileys (using watercolor, acrylic ink, graphite, charcoal and markers), which integrate fairy-tale like images with slightly erotic connotations. Of her work, Cheri says, “The surface of a painting has the capacity to seduce.  I seek to make art that addresses that very human desire to be seduced; art that provokes the viewer to acknowledge that sensual place between desire and fulfillment”.

Erica Steiner: www.ericasteiner.com

Erica Steiner is another artist who seduces viewers with the surfaces of her work.  She uses her painting to explore her “affinity for beauty, for ornamentation, for excess, and the more turbulent psychic territory that lies beneath”.  She is influenced by a wide range of contemporary, folk, textile and religious art, including “traditional Indian and aboriginal painting, psychedelic art, graphic design, Japanese landscape painting, medieval Catholic illuminated manuscripts, Victorian imagery, art nouveau and more. The work is rendered primarily in oil and gold leaf on canvas, in series of thirty to forty paintings, painted in many layers, over time”.

Patti Brady: www.pattibrady.com

Speaking of rich surfaces, Patti Brady wrote the book (literally) for creating surfaces with acrylic paint and polymers.  Patti is the Working Artist Program Director for Golden Artist Colors. As such, she has had the opportunity to thoroughly explore all of the gels, pastes, and mediums that the company offers, and she’s developed curriculum for acrylic classes for artists and art educators world-wide.

Patti’s book, Rethinking Acrylic: Radical Solutions For Exploiting The World’s Most Versatile Medium covers contemporary uses of acrylic.  It’s richly illustrated with her own and other artists works, and includes much technical info which should be helpful for the experimental artist.

Darleen Olivia McElroy: darleneoliviamcelroy.com

Darlene was also featured in my previous blog entry Acrylic Image Transfers, where I included a video of her demo of how to create a gel transfer.  Also check out her blog, The Queen of Glue!  She has recently posted about her inspirations with rust, background surfaces, and links where you can find vintage images to use in collages.

Darlene states that, “creating an art piece is like reading Turkish coffee grounds – a story becomes revealed as one looks at the surface, texture and color. Moving around the canvas, one can see the past, present and future of the creation.”

Heads up: Darlene (and co-writer Sandra Duran Wilson) is currently writing a book, Image Transfer Workshop, that will be published by Northlight Books. It is suppose to hit the shelves in July 2009.

Gary Reef: www.garyreef.com

Gary Reef is an Australian contemporary artist, who explores mixed media to learn about textures, patterns and layering, and the exploration of his own symbology.  The images above were created primarily through the use of multiple stencils.  “Scratching, carving, digging, sanding, hammering, multi-layering, rubbing, dropping, burning, splattering would be some words used to describe my art practice….the rest, well it comes from the Heart!”

Click here to see a video of Gary working on one of his stencil paintings.

(To view some more artists who work with stencils, please visit my post, Stencils, Stencils, Stencils!)

Kathryn Kendrick: www.katiekendrick.com

Kathryn considers herself to be intuitive/folk artist. She combines painting, collage, and assemblage in her mixed media artworks.  Of her process, Katie says, “I don’t have any clear ideas where I’m going when I begin a painting or project and I feel most comfortable with that. Doing projects that have a theme are challenging for me as they come less naturally. I feel most connected to higher self when I am in the process of creating, and am more interested in the process that the product.” There’s lots more inspiration to see and read on her blog.  Looking back through her pages, it reminded me that I could not complete this post without including Jesse Reno!

Jesse Reno: www.jessereno.com

Jesse Reno’s is a very prolific Portland artist.  His many-layered artworks combine acrylic, oil pastels, charcoal, and pencil on wood or canvas.  Entirely self-taught, Reno decided early in his career to forego formal training. “He generally works on five to ten canvases at once, apportioning equal time to each, in the interest of allowing the thematic content to germinate organically. Open as the artist is to the unfolding of subconscious content, his paintings emerge as pieces of a dreamlike mythic narrative.”

Paula Snyder: http://paulasnyder.biz

I discovered Paula Snyder when she commented on my last blog post, On Being an Artist in a Bad Economy.  Of her process of working with mixed media, Paula says, “I jokingly think of myself as a multiple personality.  If I had to use the same materials and the same techniques with every piece of art I create, then I feel I might as well be making sandwiches at the local fast food place.”

Anastassia Elias: www.anastassia-elias.com

Her site is in French, so I confess that I don’t know much about this artist.  She several series of paintings and collages, but I was particularly impressed with the way that she is able to create pictures from torn pieces of colored paper and text (click images to enlarge them so that you can see the text in these collages). To view more of these, go to her website, linked above, and visit the “collages dechires” section of her Portfolio.

Susan Tuttle: http://www.ilkasattic.com

Susan Tuttle recently published a book on mixed media called, Exhibition 36: Mixed Media Demonstrations and Explorations (Amazon link).  “Within the pages of Exhibition 36, readers will enter a virtual art exhibit featuring thirty-six mixed-media artists whose collage, digital, assemblage, altered and repurposed art adorn the walls and pedestals of this unique gallery. The artists are “present” throughout the exhibit, answering questions, sharing their thoughts, talking about their work and offering instruction.”

Sara Renae Jones: sararenaejones.com//drawings.php

I was particularly interested in Sara Jones’ series, “Outwitting Our Nerves”, which incorporate watercolor and graphite on vintage psychology book pages printed 1921 (if you click to enlarge the images, you can read the text, which is well-paired with the somewhat eerie imagery).

Please respect the copyright of the artists.  These images are provided for inspiration only.  I’ve asked for permission from all of the artists (a few haven’t replied yet, but I’ll remove their images if not allowed).  If you borrow an image for your own site or blog, please also ask the artist for permission.

I just found out that I sold this painting, “An Intimate Interior” at the local “Love Show” (the 4th annual show of this theme, put on by the Launchpad Gallery).  It’s not a new painting, but it fit the theme perfectly.   I’ve had little time to paint in recent months, given my multiple-hat approach to eeking out a freelance career.  I’m generally more attached to my newer works, so it’s easier for me to let go of a painting that’s been with me for a while.

Pricing is one of the more difficult aspects of an art career because no one wants to sell themselves short, nor do they want to out-price the market so that no one can afford their work.  I’ve never heard a really good explanation for how to price one’s work, and I don’t create the kind of art that can easily be priced by the square inch (or square foot, if I were creating large-scale works).  Nor can I price according to time spent on a piece (as if I could actually keep track of that, since I’m in an altered state when the work is flowing… and when it’s not, no one can pay me for the time spent thinking about and mulling over ideas).  The truth is that I have pieces that I spent literally months creating and others that came pretty quickly, but sometimes after a dry spell.  For me, it’s always a matter of emotional attachment, which is a hard thing to quantify.

The main thing I ask myself when I price my work is “what is the lowest amount that I can feel okay about selling this for”… and then add whatever percentage the gallery takes.  And since galleries typically take a 40-50% cut, I always feel better if I can give the customer a good deal by not having to outsource.  But I’d never get any exposure without public walls to hang my work on, and some venues (such as the Launchpad) are really something to support.  They’re the good guys, are also struggling to keep their doors open, and I’m glad to be a part of this group effort.

As much as I try NOT to be affected by all of the bad news about the economy, it’s hard not to be nervous as an artist trying to make my way on a completely freelance career.  Not that it was ever easy, of course.  It takes courage to even think about making a living as an artist in a good economy.  Perhaps that’s why I wear my three freelance hats as an artist, teacher, and web designer.  I’m not brave (or crazy) enough to rely on just one.  These days, I think it’s important to have several marketable skills to survive in a creative field.

When I went to art school, no one really bothered to prepare us for the cold facts of making a career in the arts.  I went into it in a completely naive manner, knowing that I wouldn’t be happy pursuing anything else.  In retrospect, there really isn’t that much that they taught me that I couldn’t have learned on my own.  At least not in terms of technique.  I think that I had the assumption I was going to get some kind of mentoring.  That didn’t happen.  No one told me how to mix color, what mediums to use, or much of anything about the practice of painting.  Nor did they prepare me for how to present myself to galleries, how to professionally photograph my work, apply for grants or residencies… in short, how to be a professional artist.

Fortunately, I’m a self-starter and figured out my own way with the materials.  Whether I intended to or not, I always found myself working against the grain.  In undergrad school, most of my teachers came out of an expressionist background, so the best advice they had to offer was to “let mistakes happen” and use big brushes.  This ran counter to my nature.  I painted carefully, painstakingly, with small brushes.  For the most part, they congratulated anything that was abstract and bold and warned against creating “illustrative” art.  Representational art had a hard time unless it had the bold brush-stroke to go with it.  That simply wasn’t me.  For whatever reason, I simply couldn’t let the paint drip.  I had a need to tightly control my expressions whether this was a good or a bad thing.  It’s only now that I realize that I am no less expressive because of my particular orientation.  I’ve made it work for me, and now that I’ve formed my own style, I can let it loose when I need to… and sometimes I REALLY need to drip paint!

I entered a completely different universe when I started graduate school. I wasn’t quite ready for the level of art theory and intellectualism that spewed the halls of Cranbrook.  I simply couldn’t get what I was doing to fit neatly into any of the current post-modern theories.  I hadn’t developed enough artspeak to defend my thoughts about what I was doing through my art. My ideas about “art, nature, and personal archetype” seemed nakedly naive, and I felt completely vulnerable when faced with critique dialogue.  I can’t say I produced my best work at that time, as I felt too vulnerable express myself fully.  It was only later that some of my chains fell off and I’ve started to really step into my own identity.

So what does all of this have to do with the tough economy? Well, it’s hard to feel courageous about creating art in an economy that few of us have faith will be able to support us.  I spend a lot more time in front of a computer these days than I do in front of a canvas (or plexi, panel, or whatever substrate I’m working on).  And let me tell you, I know it is sapping the life out of me.  This is a bit of a confessional post, but sharing my feelings helps me to exorcise my fears when I’m in the midst of a non-creative slump.  I have stagnant months where it’s very difficult for me to create because I’m too preoccupied with doing the things that are more reliable for paying bills (especially in the winter, when the bills are higher, and my basement studio is a cold and unwelcoming place).  For me, it’s always better to express something than to silently allow these feelings to grow.

There’s a huge part of me that would love to throw away my computer and live in some third-world country where I can live cheap, preferably in a warm climate.  Wherever I go, I’ll meet a new set of challenges.  There is no escape from the need to support oneself.  Anywhere else is not a better place than where I am right now.  Wherever I am, I want to be of good use, to provide services that are needed.  Art is only one of my skills, no more elevated than teaching or producing web designs.. though it is the one that provides me with more of a sense of inner ease (or to put it another way, if I don’t create art, I am not at ease).  I think this is true for most artists.  Whether we can find a way to make a living through it or not, we simply need to do it.  For most of us it’s enough to create and to surround ourselves with our creations.  For myself, I also need to let those creations go, preferably making part of my income from the endeavor.  There’s a huge part of my self-identity that is wrapped up in that equation of making my living through my art.  Perhaps this needs to be evaluated further, but there is satisfaction in knowing that it’s of enough value to someone else that they are willing to pay for it.

Here’s my prescription for any artist who wants to sell art during bad economic times:  Don’t equate how much you are able to sell your work for as any kind of qualifier for how good the work is.  In general, it might be best to paint more small artworks that you can feel okay about selling cheaply (if this works for you), or to sell only your reproductions if the originals are too prescious for you to part with (if that works for you).  In general, it’s a good idea to let your creations go so that someone else can enjoy them, and give yourself some mental space to create more.  Most of all, enjoy what you are doing.  The myth of the “suffering artist” is certainly one to let go of.  Let yourself be a channel for the creative spirit that moves through you, and don’t concern yourself too much with what the current trends are.  First and foremost, be yourself.  Know that art is needed as much now as it ever was… whether people are buying it or not.  If you put your heart into your creations, it will always have a positive effect…. on you, as well as those around you.  It’s all part of the Love… Feel it, and reel it in!