thoughts on art and creative living

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.

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!

The image above is a painting created by Jutta Reichardt.  It illustrates the use of an acrylic image transfer, acrylic surface techniques, and stenciled gold leaf that I introduced to my Mixed Media class, taught through Portland Community College last semester. Jutta produced some really amazing work during the class, and I wish my camera didn’t keep running out of batteries every time I wanted to photograph my students works! In this particular piece, Jutta was inspired by learning about a pioneering woman journalist, Nelly Bly, who was famous in her day for traveling around the world in 72 days.  She also revealed the conditions of the working class around the world, and exposed mistreatment of people with mental illness.  It seems to me that having an intense interest in a subject (any subject) can propel the work to its own successful conclusion.

I’m sort of relieved to be on a teaching break til mid January.  It’s good to have some time to get back into my own work more fully, to listen more carefully to what drives me personally… which in the end, I think will make me a better teacher.

I love teaching, as it re-awakens my passion for disseminating information about art.  After all, if making art were just for myself, it would be a pretty selfish thing, wouldn’t it??  The truth of the matter is that the desire to create is both selfish and selfless.  I create because I must, because I am an endlessly frustrated human being if I do not have an outlet for all of the images and thoughts that pour through me.  Whenever I give myself to my creative expression, I return to the most sane aspects of my self.  I become more grounded in my experience of practically everything.  It improves my relationship to myself, to others, and the world around me.  Teaching can also be a very connective experience, and it gives me great pleasure to see anyone grow in their confidence in expressing themselves.

The catch-22 about teaching is that creating art is not merely about having a handle on technique.  Yes, techniques are important.  They are the tools we use to express ourselves visually.  But it’s having a connection to our personal vision that’s most important, and that’s a very difficult thing to teach.  To some extent, we can learn it from example.  I give my students a lot of examples of what other artists are doing, in terms of both subject matter and technique, which I hope might be inspiring to their own works.  This is the reason I’ve posted so many articles on this blog related to various art inspirations (see index for these articles here).

I’ve come to the conclusion that a lot of what the class experience is about is providing a space where students are given permission to allow their creative selves to emerge.  I give specific assignments related to using colors, surface techniques, image transfers, etc… but it’s mostly a matter of giving the students a place to create where they feel encouragement, gentle direction, and the immersion of being with others who are also creating, which becomes a large part of the learning experience.  I think that artists need a combination of experiences which include the isolation of working alone, the creative atmosphere of learning from others, as well as a number of other life experiences that provide the ideas that feed their work.

I strongly suggest some form of journaling to record one’s thoughts (both visually and verbally).  Sketching, doodling, or photographing things of interest to you are all helpful in gaining access to your personal sources of inspiration.  Your process of journaling and what to include in it really depends on what ignites your creative furnace.  You might also enjoy gathering things from walks in nature… or gathering ephemera from old magazines, thrift store finds, etc.  If you enjoy textures and patterns, you might collect cloth, lace, or decorative papers that can later be collaged into your works.

I personally enjoy a mixed media approach to creating art, simply because it opens up the range of possibilities.  Practically anything can become fodder for creative exploration.  I enjoy books that provide lots of ideas for how to bring ideas together, giving the reader permission to try anything.

I occasionally check on the blogs of other artists to see what they are creating, and I just found out that an artist I’ve been following has just released a book about exploring collage.  I’ve just checked it out on Amazon, and this looks like a really good one to get my hands on, so I’m spreading the word:

Susan Tuttle‘s new book is called Exhibition 36: Mixed Media Demonstrations (Amazon link)

Susan is offering a free book in her contest for those who mention the book on their blog.  I could really use this book to add to inspiring ideas for my own art as well as teaching, so I’m hoping I have a good chance of winning the book! (see this page of her blog for details on this, if you’d also like a chance at this).  While you’re there, check out some of Susan’s amazing mixed media art.  Here’s an example of one of her assemblages, titled, “I Went to the Woods”:

(Update: I didn’t win the book, but trying for it gave me the idea of occasionally reviewing art books that I think are particularly inspiring.  Look forward to seeing some art book reviews in the future).

I’ve been craving a bit of solitude lately.  Speaking of this need to a friend, she offered me her place for the weekend, while she was out of town.  After sharing houses for years, this small break was like heaven for me.  I decided to make it into my own little creative/spiritual retreat.  The focus was to read, write, walk, paint and meditate… and nothing else.   I highly recommend this to anyone who feels overwhelmed by the pressures of the everyday.  Whatever it is that engages you with your higher self, focus on nothing but this for a day, a weekend, a week… whatever you can afford to give yourself.

At the outset, I decided not to judge whatever I produced.  This is time for me, not for pumping out salable artwork.  Sometimes the pressure of that is itself debilitating.  I wanted to flow with whatever came up for me.

I started the painting above a little before the retreat, but brought it along to have at least one thing that already had a beginning.  It was the freshest thing in my studio.  It began with star-shaped flowers…. then the swirling sky.  I started to see a bird in the sky, so I painted that.  Then I saw the woman.  It’s not finished, but I sort of like it this way right now.  When I come to a place where I don’t know what to do next, I stop.  I feed my senses with something else until the next step announces itself.  I read, walk or I paint something else.

I was at a loss about what to paint next.  Mostly, I give myself too many choices, so my biggest dilemma is making a decision.  I got up to make some tea and looked at Joy’s walls for a little while.  I found myself staring at a madonna image.  Mind you, I’m not a religious person (in the traditional way, at least), but when a little voice in my head told me to “paint myself as the goddess”, I decided to do it.  The result is less goddess than peasant, but there’s something I like about it.   One problem I had was that the only mirror I had with me was a two inch magnifying mirror, so I can’t see my whole face in it.  I can see one eye, a nose, my lips in isolation… but could not see the whole at once.  So I decided that was my challenge, to figure out how to make them work together. I struggled with the proportions.  I’ve finally come to a place with it that I recognize myself, though there is some odd distortions.  It still needs some work, but I don’t want to overwork it. I want to leave it partly unfinished.

(When Joy came back, she was surprised, and told me that she put that madonna image up for me, and wondered if I would see myself in it).

I started a couple other little paintings which are still in their beginning stages.  In both, I started with a textured background by pressing plastic wrap into wet paint.  It was easy to see trees, branches and leaves in this, so I took out my oil pastels and started to define these shapes.  Not too surprisingly, a river formed in both of these paintings as well.  The image of water and trees is something that bubbles up in meditation frequently these days.   I visualize this body of water (a stream or river more than an ocean).  At first, I am only aware of the reflections on the water.  The water reflects the sky and shadows of trees above.  I feel gently pulled into it.  It’s like I am on an invisible boat.  I don’t have a body, but I sense myself being pulled along the river.  I am lost in the motion of ripples, the reflection, the shadows.  This is the archetypal landscape of my soul: water, trees, sky…

I realize that I want to paint from the source more frequently.  To go outside and paint what I see in the reflections of the water.  But it was a rainy weekend, so I decided “the source” was whatever I could pull out of what I saw in the paint.  These are timid beginnings so far, but I see the potential already.  Again, I like looking at the work before it’s been fully realized.

Another thing I thought about painting (but didn’t) was a pomegranate, based on images that have come up in both meditations and dreams.  But when I opened the fruit, I was confounded by the complexity of hundreds of seeds.  I decided to do a photographic study instead, to help me decide how I wanted to approach the subject before I try to paint it.  The night before I went out to purchase the pomegranate, I burned a candle that overflowed.  I picked up the wax and realized that it also resembled the pomegranate, so I posed it with the fruit, which seemed to emphasize the sense of oozing.  I ran the image through some Photoshop filters to see how different colors affected the image.

In my dream during this retreat, I was eating the pomegranite seeds (sharing it with Joy, who was sharing her home with me).  I looked down on my plate and was surprised to see that the seeds were glowing like little light-bulbs.  I knew it was about embracing the feminine archetype… to learn about and hold this power… and to realize that my connection to this world is through the senses, to embrace that also.

Early in my art career I had a resistance to the still-life genre, perhaps because my college professors created pretty boring set-ups of mangled mannequins, bicycle wheels, broken chairs and all sorts of uninspiring material. I’ve always been more inspired by working from my imagination or a symbolic narrative.  However, since I’ve started teaching art, I’m forced to acknowledge the fact that (1) it’s difficult to teach imagination; and (2) learning to “see” and paint what you see is of great value.

A still-life is also a great starting point for the imagination to interpret what it sees.  Setting up objects creates a perfect situation for studying the effects of light, shadow, and color… and the fact that you have the opportunity to arrange and rearrange the composition allows for more freedom and control than practically any other subject.

Before beginning on a still-life, I feel that it’s a good idea to look at the masters of the genre… those that were able to transcend the subject of “objects on a table” into a work of personal and subjective relevance.

Paul Cézanne (French, 1839–1906): “Apples and Pears”

Cézanne was interested in the simplification of naturally occurring forms to their geometric essentials. He is one of the first artists to be spoken of when referring to the idea of the “dynamic” still life.  If you look closely at almost any of his paintings, you will notice that he chooses a rather precarious balance to his themes.  There are a few things to notice in the example above.  First, the horizon line is only slightly tilted, so that there’s a feeling of stability, yet not quite stable.  The plate is also tilted, and the fruit look like they might easily fall off the table.  This isn’t completely obvious to the casual observer, but even these slightly unstablizing factors prevent the composition from becoming totally static.  I’ve added a detail of the painting to help the student see the texture of the paint.  It also serves as an idea of abstracting the image further.

Cézanne’s explorations of geometric simplification later inspired Picasso, Braque and others to experiment with ever more complex multiple views of the same subject, and, eventually, to the fracturing of form (cubism).

To view more works by Cézanne, visit this link.

Paul Gauguin (French, 1848–1903): “Still Life Fete Gloanec”

Paul Gauguin’s artworks are frequently characterized by an intense color palette.  His most famous artworks were interpretations of an idyllic life of peasants in Tahiti. His still-life paintings are less known, but were consistent with the rest of his work in that they tended to simplify the subject and key up the colors into somewhat unnatural hues.

A Post-Impressionist, Gauguin’s bold and colorful paintings significantly influenced Modern art, especially artists Matisse, Picasso, Braque, and Derain (including the movements of Fauvism, Cubism, and Orphism among others).

To view more of Paul Gauguin’s artworks, visit www.paul-gauguin.net

Vincent Van Gogh (Dutch, 1853-1890): Sunflowers, Irises, and Lemons

Vincent Van Gogh’s artworks span the subjects of landscape, portraiture and still-life.  He worked at a feverish pace, producing almost 900 paintings between  a span of 9 years (1881-1890).  He painted quickly, deliberately, and almost always from live subjects.

“I can’t work without a model. I won’t say I turn my back on nature ruthlessly in order to turn a study into a picture, arranging the colors, enlarging and simplifying; but in the matter of form I am too afraid of departing from the possible and the true.”

Van Gogh firmly believed that to be a great painter you had to first master drawing before adding color. Over the years he clearly mastered drawing and began to use more color. His early works were shadowed by the dark color themes of Dutch realism, but after viewing the works of the French Impressionists, his color scheme shifted to the tints and tones of a brighter world.  In time, one of the most recognizable aspects of Van Gogh’s paintings became his bold use of color.  The energetic use of line and brushwork is also a trademark of Van Gogh’s work.

To view more of Van Goghs drawings and paintings, visit www.vangoghgallery.com

Georgio Mirandi (Italian, 1890-1964): the muted still-life

Morandi was the master of monochromatic compositions of subtle power.  He tended to emphasize the shapes and profiles of his objects with gentle shifts in color, unified with an even-handed, brushy application of paint.  He preferred matte surfaces and neutral colors. Boxes and bottles were stripped of labels and sometimes painted white or gray to destroy reflections and homogenize the materials, reducing them to essential forms. In this way, his still life paintings became studies in abstract geometric archetypes.

To view more works by Giorgio Morandi, visit this site.

Georgia O’Keefe (American, 1887-1986)

Georgia O’Keefe’s studies of natural forms are generally viewed less as still-lives than powerful expressions of abstracted realities.  She did occasionally set up objects on a table, but more often there is no reference to man-made forms in these paintings.  Sometimes (especially in the case of her bone-studies) she would float the subject agains an expansive sky.

Wikipedia says, “O’Keeffe has been a major figure in American art since the 1920s. She is chiefly known for paintings in which she synthesized abstraction and representation in paintings of flowers, rocks, shells, animal bones and landscapes. Her paintings present crisply contoured forms that are replete with subtle tonal transitions of varying colors.”

Patrick Chi Ming Leung (born in Hong Kong 1953; resides in Canada)

I actually know very little about this artist.  I discovered him by wandering the web, researching artists of the still life.  I immediately recognized something very powerful in the way that he abstracts natural forms into circles, lines, textures, and shapes.  It makes me realize that it’s possible to push the possibilities of each, simultaneously !   I’ve enlarged a section of the above painting in order to focus on what is happening, at a spatial level.

I’ll soon write to the artist and see if I can gain any insight into his process and thoughts (and to obtain permission to use his image).

For more images by Patrick Chi Ming Leung, visit gallery site.

Joseph Plasket (Canadian, 1918- ):

Another discovery from browsing the web, Joseph Plasket actually has quite a renowned reputation and I’m surprised I hadn’t come across him before.  Joseph Plasket comes to us from Canada.   He’s a gem (and I want to meet him!)

What I appreciate most about these compositions is that the still-life subjects are rendered in a lively attention to detail, seeming fairly realistic, yet slammed against the plane of rectangles, squares and octagons.  It’s as if two planes of dimensional space have intersected or collided with each other.  Brilliant!  In some ways it goes further than the discovery of Cubism by Picasso.  Picasso smashes space up into a bucket of glass and puts it back together into a less recognizable form.  Joseph Plaskett has performed a trick on our perceptions also, but it seems a friendlier place to me.  It’s the kind of world that I would like to step into, with all of its pure hue, elegant shapes, and colored light.

I love how he can take the same basic forms and, combining each with a different light and temperature, creates completely different atmospheres!

Reflections on Turning 90, by Joseph Plasket:

“The ecstasy I feel as I survey  work I have done I want to share with the world – not the whole world  which couldn’t care less, but my private world, which is my country, Canada. An aged painter cannot help but accept the fact that his work belongs in the past. Younger painters have leaped into the phenomenon called contemporary, where it would be foolish of me to try to enter. But I can claim my own phenomenon, the existence of a public that loves and is moved by what I do, and this public even includes my peers some of whom are young and contemporary. I now paint works that I would previously have not been capable of painting, works that take me by surprise and leave me in a state of wonder and amazement. When I see older work that has stood the test of time (not everything I do does) I cannot recall how I have done it. At a certain point the painting seems to have painted itself without my help – what I have called the “eureka” moment when a sudden daring intervention has worked a miracle.”

In my personal opinion, the worlds that Joseph Plasket has created is just as contemporary as anything else I’ve seen.  I see that he has fractured the world into 2 planes: the receding objects on the table, and the flat plane of the table, which has a shifted perspective.

To view more paintings by Joseph Plasket, view his gallery webpages.  Here’s another, with more : www.gallery78.com/jplask.htm

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Note: Most of my posts related art instruction, art history, and classes are being posted on private pages, instead of within the main frame of this blog.  Here’s an index of the class-related pages I’ve created so far. You can also view them on the sidebar, under “Pages” (between categories and blogroll), arranged in alphabetical order:

Painting Subjects

Staging a Simple Still-Life

Masters of the Dynamic Still-Life

Contemporary Botanicals, Mixed Media

The Interpretive Landscape

The Interpretive Portrait

Mixed Media/Painting Techniques:

Textured Backgrounds

Acrylic Image Transfers

Combining Pattern and Realism

Color, Space, Repetition

Golden Inspirations: Gold Leaf Painting

Stencils, Stencils, Stencils

Color Theory:

Mandala Color Wheel

Color Wheel Masking

Creating Harmony in Color

Color Shift from a Photographic Source

I recently finished a new painting, which I’ve decided to title “Cerulean Song”.  Cerulean is the variety of blue that dominates the piece, and since it was created specifically  for a “blue themed” show, it seems appropriate to give some reference to that.  It also seemed significant for music or sound to be a part of it’s title, since it feels like the pregnant woman is being called by the owl’s song.

The ideas for my artworks are always generated by the process.  I didn’t even know that this would be my blue themed piece at the beginning, as I started with a red background.  I did a photo transfer of a collaged face as a demo in my painting class, then started painting the rest of the figure from imagination.  The red hair is the only element of the background that still exists.  (I painted an umber over it, then scratched back into the previous layer with my palette knife).  Here’s a side by side of the photographic image that inspired the face, with the one that materialized when I applied layers of paint.  The image became reversed because of the gel medium transfer:

I generally begin by priming my panel with a lighter color (in this case, orange), then use a darker acrylic glaze (burnt sienna).  The photo collage of the face was adhered with acrylic gel medium, then the paper backing was removed to reveal a mirror image of the face.  I worked on the figure enough that I decided to preserve it once I changed my mind about the color scheme.  For students and other artists interested in the process that goes into a painting, I’m including a few photos of the next steps that brought the piece to completion (click to enlarge):

(1) I created a stencil to protect the figure.  I then proceeded to drip various shades of thinned blue oil paint from the top of the panel.  If you look closely, you’ll see that there is also a plastic bag pressed into the painting.  When pulled up, this reveals some of the underground painting. This step gives me some patterns to work with.  (2) Since the drips started to resemble trees, I decided to go with that idea.  I clarified the tree structure first by removing some of the paint with my palette knife (again, revealing the red layer beneath).  I uncovered the figure and had to remove some paint that had seeped in below the tape.  Oil dries slowly, so I knew that as long as the paint wasn’t completely dried, that I would be able to easily remove any seepage. (3) I further developed the blue tones, but at this point, the dress is green. (I later decided to move it even further into the blue range by covering it with turquoise).  The foreground tree (with owl) is painted on a second layer, on plexiglass.

Because the image is somewhat static, it was important to get some vibrating colors to liven up the theme.  So I created lots of dots of color graduating down from the sky into the foreground.  The patterns in the trees also helps to activate the space, as does the expanding rings that float on the top layer.

This painting will be part of a show titled “Blue Square”, at Vina Paradiso (located at 417 NW 10th in Portland). An opening reception is planned on Dec. 3rd, 6pm – 9pm.   30-40 artists are involved, and, in case it’s not obvious enough, all paintings will be square in shape and blue in theme.

I’ve finally completed painting this belly-cast that was given to me by a woman who is the founder of the Alma Midwifery Center. Actually, it was lent to me, with the purpose of having me paint it for an upcoming event, which will display the artistic transformations of 12 Portland artists.

The cast was very bumpy when I picked it up, still revealing the gauze that was used in its creation. My first step was to mix up a new batch of plaster and smooth it over the entire cast, let it dry for a day, then thoroughly sand it. I wanted the outside of the form to reveal more of the details that could be seen within the inside, so I added details such as nipples, which are an important element of a pregnant woman’s form. I then applied several layers of acrylic paint, starting with blue, then turquoise, then metallic gold for an iridescent effect. I decided to paint the form of a tree, bending along the curves of her form, to symbolize the growth process. The branches wrap around the belly and breasts, signifying the gentle movement from seed to maturity. In addition, the branching itself reflects the structure of the vascular system… the blood that brings oxygen into the fetus, sustaining its life.

I feel that it is a triumph to get anything at all done in the studio these days, so it’s actually good to have a deadline on something occasionally. Plans are still on hold for the move to my “art house”, and I’m still going through all of my stuff. Organizing and packing takes forever for someone like me. I have a lot of stuff I’ve collected over the years. Part of me wants to throw it all out just to save the trouble of moving it. Another part of me is still pretty attached, knowing that everything I’ve collected has some purpose and can be used in future artworks…. some day. So I’m taking the middle road. If I’m not absolutely certain I’m going to use something within the next year or so, I’m giving it away or throwing it out. My goal is to get rid of at least 1/3 of my possessions. The process feels a bit like giving birth.

Whenever I get into a period of time when I’m not in a completely regular painting habit, it takes a while for the ideas to begin to emerge. During these times, I feel it’s best to stay open to practically anything my mind wants to entertain.

So why am I painting a lady with a funny hat? Something about painting faces gives me an immediate sense of grounding. I don’t know who this woman is, but she feels oddly familiar to me. Yet, painting a simple portrait feels pretty boring to me. I need some element of fantasy or outlandish detail that keeps me entertained. Now I’m amused by the idea of creating a whole series of people wearing funny hats… or perhaps things that aren’t supposed to be hats (like animals and flowers and birds-nests).

The content aspect of my work often trips me up. The first question is always WHAT to paint. And if I’m feeling stuck, the question becomes a painful deliberation between numerous prospects. Sometimes I have too many ideas. The best thing is just to start with something… anything that I feel I can commit to for the first 10 minutes, and then the creative pixies keep the juices flowing.

The artist’s cooperative gallery that I belong to (“Six Days”, on Alberta Street in Portland) are having a group show related to the theme of Las Vegas. We are calling the show “Six Days in Vegas”. I came home from a meeting on the subject, complaining to my partner that I had to come up with a painting with a Vegas theme, and I’m pretty anti-Vegas in my aesthetics. He pointed out that I already had a painting on my easel that would do the trick. So I added some feathers, changed her blouse to a silky spaghetti strap, reversed the orientation of the background panel… and, Voila!… she’s a show-girl! I renamed the piece, “Vegas Night, 3 a.m.” I’m still contemplating whether I should add a cigarette danging from her mouth.

Yea! I’m finally on a roll, after feeling like I am only half into my process lately. I could note a few excuses, such as my recent activity creating other people’s websites…. or spending the past week interviewing prospects for a new housemate… but the truth is that this has been going on for quite some time, and I was beginning to wonder about my dedication to studio work. I think a lot has to do with shifting gears between producing stuff for street shows, wearing out my creative impulse by forcing myself to crank things out for a while. I’m not a very good art slave, as I tend to resent it rather quickly. I did learn a lot about marketing, what images people are most often attracted to, etc. That’s all very valuable. But now that I’ve run myself through the wringer, I’m actually glad the winter is here so that I can get more focused in the studio and do my REAL work.

That said, I’ve been starting out a little dry. I didn’t really want to pack up my lovely balcony studio and put everything in the basement. Weather wimp that I am, I couldn’t get myself to paint outside, even if the strong winds and rain are only occasional. For a little while I was moving back and forth between the balcony and basement, but I’m not organized enough to maintain 2 studios. There’s a huge part of me that resists being underground, though. Perhaps I just needed to sort things out in my head first. I’ve been doing a lot of meditating and image research… figuring out what I want to do. After spending too much time in my head, I just want to paint without a thought for a while. So much of my first steps was centered on creating a handful of new panels with abstract painting. I like to start out with absolutely no idea where I am going… just following my momentary impulses toward particular colors, shapes, and textures. The panels are each 17 inch squares, made from a combination of sponging, brushing, stenciling, and embedding textures.

These are all groundwork for layered plexiglass paintings. I decided to paint a woman over the first panel. She’s been in evolution for the past two weeks, but I finally feel that I have enough figured out to want to share her. She’s a funny little woman, but lovely.

A few days ago, I also started another painting with another background. This songbird hasn’t progressed as far, so I’ll share it later. In the meantime, I’ve also been playing around with some collages, which I then started painting over:

The first of this pair is vertical diptych, utilizing a frottage drawing above, and a charcoal drawing below.
“Frottage” is a word used by the surrealists (I think it may have been invented by Max Ernst), which describes a way of discovering imagery by rubbing various textures. It, like the drawing below it, was originally turned vertically (the drawing was of a Buddha face, originally). I turned it sideways to get a new vantage point on what to do with it. I had been painting them separately, then decided they looked good together. For some reason I actually like the head turned on its side.

So there’s my revelations from the studio!

I took a process-painting workshop this past weekend called “Breakthroughs in Intuitive Painting”, facilitated by Carolyn Winkler (spiritmaskjourneys.com).

The idea of the workshop is to give up one’s habitual modes of painting, instead giving oneself over to a completely intuitive process. We paint with liquid tempera on paper, simulating the experience of painting as a child. From the very beginning, I’m thinking “Yippee! I get to paint like a child!… I don’t have to please anyone but myself!”… Yet, I must admit that there’s another part of me that’s thinking, “I can’t waste a whole weekend on this. I’ve got to create paintings for my upcoming shows. Yes, I want my work to be freer… but I also want to create a product I can sell!”

That dilemma was my shadow throughout the workshop. It really did interfere with my goals of completely letting go and giving myself over to the process. But eventually, the process won out, and I did experience a breakthrough in my work.

Here’s a synopsis of my progress:

I began by painting on a single sheet of paper, 18×24, taped vertically onto a foam support. Red, umber, and blues were the dominant color scheme.  The shape of a woman takes form almost immediately.

I soon realized that I wanted to expand beyond the rectangular edge of the paper, so I started tearing sheets, then adding them to each side, creating an irregular shape. Trees start to frame the woman, piercing a swirling sky.

After lunch, I decided the imagery came too quickly, so I painted over her.

I sorta liked this state, where she was half there, and half erased. I wasn’t completely satisfied, though, so I painted over her face completely.

Another woman appeared in her place.

At the end of the day, I looked at my piece and felt disappointed. She feels contrived… and the composition is stiff. I went home feeling a little annoyed. I asked myself, “Why is it so difficult to make a shift?” I realized that I had too many expectations of an immediate breakthrough. I wanted to paint, but felt too despondent. I read through my book, “Painting from the Source”, by Aviva Gold. I went to bed early, exhausted but hopeful.

The next day, I knew I had to completely obliterate the woman. I turned my paper upside down and taped it to the wall again. I added extensions of more torn paper.

Something definitely shifted within the painting (and myself) once I painted over the woman and started painting more freely.

Swirls of color start to flow from my brush. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m okay with that. I don’t need to have a plan, or to know where it’s going. I’m using more paint than I normally do because it’s cheap, so I’m not constrained by thoughts of cost. I do realize that I’m starting to get attached to these swirls now, though. So, after lunch, I turn the painting over again.

Once I turned it over, I immediately saw the shape of a bird’s head, formed from the swirls. I ask myself, “Is this image from the mind or from the heart?” I’m not certain, but it feels like the right thing to do, so I give myself to this idea… painting a wild bird’s head with a huge, glaring eye. I work further on the swirls of the sky, and as a last touch, green blades of grass against the red earth. Time is up, and I feel satisfied.

I am in a blissful state this evening because I’ve finally surpassed my creative impasse. I knew it was only a matter of time. This has happened before. I know I’m not the only one to occasionally wonder if the juices will ever flow again. Once the creative pump is primed fully, I wonder how it ever slows to a trickle. Truly, there are so many ideas flowing through me now that I wonder if I’ll be able to catch up with my brain.

I’ve been playing with these surfaces for the past week or so. I go back and forth between layering colors on 6 small paintings and a few larger ones. It’s been fun, but now and then I stop and question myself, “what will ever come of this?”. It feels like total chaos to me, and I long to settle on an image so that I know what direction the work is taking. I hush myself. If I want to paint the same way I’ve been painting for 20 years, that’s fine… nothing wrong with it… but then why is this discontent bubbling up within me? I know that to change requires courage. It requires sticking with the process even when I have no idea where I am going or if I am heading the right direction. I decide it doesn’t matter if I end up throwing all of these paintings away. I give myself permission to make a mess. I keep painting. Layering. Dripping. Rolling textures. Smearing. Stop. Start another painting. Repeat the process of simply following whatever impulse guides me. The next day, return to the studio and play again. Then a day comes when I am afraid to face it. Too much uncertainty. Delve into it anyway. Forget that I am the creator. There is no room for ME here, just the simple play of colors and textures. I get out of the way. At some point, I stop and realize something magical has happened

In a way, some of these new paintings have taken years to make. I created the textures of the painting above by making a collograph in school many years ago. A collograph is basically a collage-plate which is printed onto paper. I glued crinkled paper, string, and dried glue doodles to a mat board, sealed it with varnish, inked it up, and ran it through a roller. 15 years later, I dig it out of my collage bin, cut it up, glue it to a board and paint it. The flying swan pendant belonged to my mother. I took it off of my altar the other day because I thought I might draw it. I saw it sitting next to my unfinished collage and decided they might belong together. An interesting note: I was thinking the shapes in the piece symbolized a “mother” figure… a sort of nurturing, protective form. The flying bird symbolizes freedom for me. I can make my own personal allegory: perhaps it’s my mother’s soul, which is now free from this world. Or maybe it is a more universal idea of “mother spirit” which nurtures until her young are free to fly.

More experiments (all of these images enlarge when you click them):

None of the paintings in this post are finished yet. I am just documenting my own progress.

A friend of mine recently remarked that she’s horrified when she sees artists posting their unfinished works on the web. For her, she needs to work through the many layers and incarnations of a painting before she can feel safe about revealing it. I probably used to feel the same. But I don’t feel that these paintings really belong to me yet. They are still coming through me and I am simply curious about my own process, especially since this way of working is still new to me.

While I was on my walk today, I found a clipped yellow rose on the pavement. I was in a business district and could find no yellow rose-bushes nearby, so someone must have cut it, walked with it, and dropped it. I immediately picked it up as if it was a present left for me. It’s scent was fragrant and the bloom was still fresh. I brought it home and decided that it was what I was meant to paint for the evening. Again, for some reason it reminded me of my mother, so I decided to paint it as a dedication to her. I picked up one of my panels which I decided would be a good back-drop. With the contrasting blues and accenting yellows, it seemed a perfect match. I got my oil palette set up and went to town. I realized that part of me was missing the “rendering” aspect of my painting. I was having fun with layering acrylics, but creating a “portrait of a flower” put me in a meditative state. I’ve decided that I like this combination of painting with wild abandon, then painting with serene focus. A perfect balance of Order and Chaos (just like my mind).

I feel that my creative breakthrough is just beginning to emerge! I’ve actually spent more time setting up my space than creating, but I feel that this is, for me, an important part of the process. I’ve decided to move much of my studio out to the balcony, so that I can create outside while the weather is nice. I’ve moved all of the things I feel I’ll need to create my new series of small works, including gessoed panels, collage papers, paints, brushes, pastels, pencils, pens, texturing tools, bottles, etc.

Getting everything organized in its proper place takes some time. Small spaces require even more organization so that all the tools don’t become clutter. Now that I’m set up, it’s evening and I’m too tired to work. But I’m excited that the time has arrived to get things moving.

I made a resolution a few days ago to take a walk every evening. I prefer the “golden hour” while the sun is just beginning to set, and all the plants have a magical glow to them that renders everything more ALIVE. Part of my daily practice is to take my camera with me. I make quick shots throughout my walk, without stopping to do too much editing. I want to keep up a steady pace so that I get my exercise – so I pause only briefly to take a photo of basically anything that catches my eye. Mostly its the plants and flowers, occasionally a tree, tiny weeds breaking through the textures of a wall or pavement; or a cat that comes up to greet me (if I’m fast enough). I don’t know yet whether I am actually going to USE any of these photos. I just feel that taking them helps me to take more notice of my surroundings: how the light affects everything; how different plants, placed next to each other, create interesting patterns, textures, and color contrasts.

It was a good idea to move my studio from the basement to the balcony. I couldn’t bring myself to be down there while the weather is nice, especially after surviving a cold and rainy winter. One must “Seize the Day” while the sun is shining in this town. It might be raining the following day. But the rain here brings good things too. This is known as the “gardener’s paradise”. I’ve created hundreds of photos during my daily walks. I want to post some of these, but need to organize them and figure out which software is most convenient to blogging. In the meantime, if you are interested in sifting through them, you can find my  Portland web album on Picasa.com:

I don’t know how I am going to use any of these yet. Mostly I am interested in the patterns and textures that I see in all of these plants, rock walls, trees, etc. They’re visual notes of my daily journeys… which I’m sure will find their way into the studio at some point.

And it’s a good time to begin new projects. This city transforms when the sun comes out. Suddenly, I am inspired to get out of the house and take daily walks through the neighborhood. I’m greeted by the multitude of blooms that are springing up from front-yard gardens, blooming trees, and cats that seem eager to come up to meet me. All of the sudden, I feel inspired to take photos everywhere I go. I want to capture the patterns and colors and light. I am dreaming of all of the paintings I want to create. And though I want to actually be on the computer LESS; at the same time, I want to do MORE with the time that I spend here. I feel that if I can begin a dialogue about creative process, then I’ll have increased my own discipline in paying attention to my thoughts; at the same time perhaps inviting others to join in on the conversation.