Another student who made great use of the drip and pour techniques was Nina Kirby, who chose to paint over a painting that she’d done before the class began. Unsatisfied with its progress, she freely poured the paint over the painting, thus re-creating its new direction.

Here’s another amazing painting by Nina. She began with the texture at the bottom of the painting, created by pressing crumpled tin-foil into joint compound. After having a dream of this figure coming out of the ground, she continued with the drip painting background, painted the figure, added molding paste for the tree trunk, and used glass bead paste mixed with paint for the hair. Well-done, Nina!

While working on one painting, Nina has a habit of working on a second (abstract) painting that utilizes any mixed paint that is left over from the first.  This way, she doesn’t waste any paint, and is able to work on something else while waiting for layers to dry.  An example of this is below:

Another student who made a lot of progress in class was Tamara. She really enjoyed getting some interesting textures through the use of joint compound. She was also excited about integrating acrylic image transfers. There is a wonderful sense of subtlety in the following works:

Ann added the class half-way into the session, but was able to achieve quite a lot of progress in 4 short sessions:

The first image above was created by using collected fragments of plastered paint material that had crumbled off some walls… which she found on a trip to Mexico. The second image was from a “failed” image transfer. Somehow the image of a swarm of butterflies didn’t quite turn out, however, there is more subtlety in the partially revealed image.

The background of this last image was created by creating a texture from joint compound, with layers of acrylic paint worked into the texture.  The next layer is some kind of shiny metallic paper, covered with another  lace paper layer.

I’m waiting to get a few more images from a couple other students who took the class.  I am supremely proud of my students, and already looking forward to my next mixed media classes, which will probably begin in September.  If you (or someone you know) is interested in taking classes, please visit the classes link on this site

I’ve spent most of the entire month of May writing a business plan for my art business.  I didn’t think it was going to be all that hard.  I’m pretty good at visualizing what I want and I’m a decent writer.  But figuring out every little detail of every expense that will propel me into a profitable art business… in this economy….. well, that’s hard.  Especially when you have to reconfigure every calculation whenever you change your mind on something.   So I’ve spent almost every waking moment of the last few weeks researching and writing, re-writing, visualizing, re-visualizing, editing, calculating, and re-calculating this thing.  Alas, I think I’m done and I’ve done a pretty thorough job.  My plan is in review right now, so I hope they’ll say I’m good to go and can get the money needed to start my business soon.

Here’s the basics of my plan: I am going to expand my current sales of my prints, cards and pendants into a wholesale business.  I’ll be targeting bookstores, boutiques, metaphysical shops, and card stores.  I’ll begin with 6 of my best-selling images to create offset runs of my cards,  prints and mounted prints (until now, all of this has been hand-produced, so limiting the number of images will allow me to get a larger number of prints done for each of the images, adding new images every few months as sales pick up).   There will be a focus on sustainability, using Portland companies that use recycled paper and soy inks.  And I’ll hire Portland artists to help me with the production on things that are more labor-intensive (mounted prints and pendants).  I’ll also improve the process of creating my pendant jewelry by wire-wrapping them instead of adding glue-on bails.

Now that I’m done with the biz plan, I’ve spent the last few days refocusing my attention towards making product and doing a couple of outdoor shows.  On Wednesday, I stayed up past 3 a.m., making mounted prints and glass pendant jewelry.  The following day was First Thursday in the Pearl district, so I packed up all my display stuff and put up my tent and gridwalls, and once I had everything set up, it started to rain. And it rained… and rained… and didn’t stop raining.  If I’d left 1/2 hour after setting up, I would’ve made all the money I was going to make for the night.

Yesterday was the first truly sunny day for weeks, so I thought, GREAT… everyone will be out and sales will be good for the First Anniversary Celebration of my Sellwood gallery (Love Art!).  So I set up a couple grid-walls in front of the gallery (minus the tent because I didn’t want to block the view of the bands that were setting up).  Once I got all my art up on my grid-walls, a wind came and knocked the whole thing down, damaging some of my mounted prints!  I put the whole thing up again (this time securing the walls to a huge metal sculpture).  Was there all day, enjoyed some great music and company of some friends… and got a sunburn (just to prove I got some sun).  Sold 2 things all day while I watched the traffic jam push past the gallery.  I think everyone was headed out of town because they knew it was their one day of sunshine for a while. 

I guess one thing I’m learning about all this is to take things more in my stride.  It used to be I would be totally pissed off at spending so much time prepping for and sitting shows.  Now I just figure, “You win some, you lose some”… and at least I’ve got some stock to put back in my stores (minus the ones that got damaged!)  I count the people I meet as part of the reward of doing these shows too.

Another thing that’s stimulated is that I’m thinking more about how I can create art that’s practically damage-proof, waterproof, ecologically sustainable, and light-weight (for reduced shipping and ease of transportation).  I have a few ideas and will see what ends up being the best solution.

It was hard to decide what would be the name of my new business.  I had several ideas but my brain went back and forth between several ideas.  So I put it out to a poll of my friends.  I thought it was interesting that, given 6 possible names, around 21 out of 30 responders picked the same name, “Dreambird Creations”, so I decided this was best because it gives a sense of the dreamy quality of my work.  Since I paint a lot of birds and my name is a bird, that’s fitting too.  After writing out ‘dreambirdcreations.com” in an email, I realized a shorter name of “dreambirdart.com” might be better (still deciding on this one).  So far, I’ve decided the 6 images heading this blog entry will be my first group of open editions.

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:

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!

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!

Here’s a clip from Rebecca’s artist’s statement for the show:

“In World War II, our country created “Victory Garden” posters to market the idea of growing home gardens to help with the food supply shortage. They proclaimed that people could fight for the war in their own gardens. Once again, we might be faced with this dilemma. Today, these posters instead of growing vegetables to help fight a war would support a local economic structure. Instead of the term, “Victory Garden” I feel that “Local Victory” would be more fitting today. It is similar to the slogan, “Think Globally, Act Locally.”

I was really drawn into these paintings.  When you see them in person, you are more aware of the abstract qualities inherent within the works.  The piece above, for example, has some really wonderful sections which, when you zoom into a closer focus, makes you more aware of the fact that Rebecca is really a master of abstract form.  I learned later that most of her artworks are much less illustrative than this particular body of works.

Another thing that’s not easy to see in the photograph is the fact that this painting was created in two layers.  The bottom layer is watercolor guache on paper, whereas the top layer is acrylic on acetate.  The employment of separate layers also helps the viewer to be more aware of the relationship between “positive” and “negative” space in the work.

One of the things that I learned from reading Rebecca’s blog is that some of the artworks in this show were conceived from photographs from her childhood.  She was raised by parents who grew their own food.  She mentioned to me during the opening that she grew up with the illusion that this was a common experience for everyone, to find out later that few people actually shared this experience of growing up with a close relationship to the earth. In the blog, she credits her father’s gardening journals as one of the impetuses for this body of work:

“I grew up working with my parents in the gardens, but I have not focused before on why they chose to grow certain things. My father chose to grow things to maybe influence growth of other plants or to distract insects. Some varieties worked better than others and with organic gardening there isn’t much time to make mistakes. Once something worked, he would keep working that or try something different the following year. His journals were a way to look back and document what worked and what needed to be changed.”

Of the early photographs, Rebecca  notes, “These are what I consider documentation of my childhood rather than just a nostalgic image. I am not commenting on how wonderful it was, but more how interesting this was for a child. At an early age I knew how things grew, and the work that needed to go into this.”

Just as interesting as the works themselves is the way that the artist chose to display them.  By incorporating the framed artworks into a wall-drawing of posts and shadows of plants, Rebecca created an installation that brings the viewer into the narrative of the garden.

Rebecca also included 3-D props of plant shapes which occupied the floor space in front of the artworks.  On these, she wrote statements and questions that might help the viewer to consider their own relationship to food.

Ben Pink, the founder and curator of Launchpad Gallery, mirrors Rebecca’s concerns in his statement about the show.  Problems such as “rising food costs, mono-cropping, pesticide use, loss of genetic diversity in food stocks and reliance on fossil fuels to transport foods hundreds if not thousands of miles from the farm to the store; Shelly sees the modern-day Victory Garden as a small, yet potent way to meaningfully address these issues, but also as catalyst for relationships, a place to re-connect people with their local community and truly create a sense of place.”

In addition to artworks inspired from the images of her own childhood, Rebecca also directly borrowed from the imagery in the WWII posters which were a campaign to encourage Americans to plant victory gardens, as a way of supporting the war effort.  She combined the imagery with collaged text from gardening books of the same era (click to enlarge any of the images on this page):

These smaller paintings in the exhibit echo the didactic tone of the 40′s propaganda posters, yet she pushes beyond the earlier war-effort message to one which is contemporary to our own times.  The mixed-media and layered approach brings the viewer into the artwork in a more intimate way.  What was before a message of pedantic pronouncements becomes, under her skillful hands, more of an invitation to participation.

I couldn’t help but to relate the timing of this exhibition to the victory of our recent American election.  Living in a politically liberal community, there’s an air of excitement about the changes to come.  Despite the plight of financial and housing markets, there’s a charge of optimism for change.  Though its only a small part of the solution, we see many of us who have already taken up the cause for organic gardening.  A walk through any Portland neighborhood will reveal that many of our neighbors have become urban farmers.  There’s also a taste for bartering and a large population that supports bio-fuels and bicycling.  Perhaps one of the answers to these difficult times is a backward glance at the ways of the past.

Here’s some more installation photos from the show:

I thought it especially poignant when a group of young children approached the artist to ask her questions about the inspiration for her mixed-media paintings.  For me, this brings the message of her work full-circle.  The work is inter-generational, inspired by her own experience growing up in the garden.  Now she shares this with others, including the new generation that is emerging.

In addition to the artistic contribution, Rebecca is starting up a project that involves giving away starter plants to people who may want to begin gardening but may need an introduction to the concept:

“Sometimes I think people want to have a little push to do something. That is why I want to give free plant starts to people…. Already, I have received a great amount of interest in this project. A gift is great and when that can continue to give and inspire, that is probably one of the most amazing things an artist can offer.”

In order to make the work MORE available to the general public and in keeping with the propaganda roots of this project, Rebecca has created accessibly priced limited-edition posters of some of the work in the show (click image at left to view these posters).  They are available through Launchpad Gallery.  The gallery is located at 534 SE Oak Street, Portland, OR.  The exhibit continues through November 29th. (view the gallery’s website for hours, or call for an appointment: 971.227.0072)

View Rebecca Shelly’s body of abstract paintings at her website: rebeccashelly.com
Read her blog: rebeccashelly.blogspot.com
Local Victory Blog: localvictory.blogspot.com

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.

This is the artwork I am entering into the “Dreams” show at the Launchpad Gallery, located at 534 SE Oak Street, in Portland. The opening is this Friday, October 3, from 6-10 pm. There’s expected to be over 60 artists showing work in the “dreams theme”.

It’s been a while since I’ve created an artwork that was strictly related to the interpretation of a dream, but since I almost always begin and end a painting without knowing my next step (preferring to start with one image and free associate til the painting completes itself), I think of the painting process as one which is very similar to a dreaming process, anyway. In this particular case, I began with the image of the bird, then added the plants. The semi-transparent woman and swirls decided to materialize at around 2 am the night before the deadline to get this painting into the gallery. Deadlines sometimes help to get the painting from dreaming into actualization… and off the easel.

Luckily, my partner and I did find a house that works out nicely for the 2 of us to share with a midwife and her two daughters (8 and 14). I wasn’t specifically looking for a family situation, but as it turns out I’m very happy that this is where we landed. We’re now in Clinton, our favorite Portland neighborhood. We are close to natural foods groceries, a great strip of restaurants and cafes, and next door to a community garden and school. We have a large yard, a garden, 4 chickens, 2 pet rats, an orange tabby, a trampoline, a huge basement/studio, and wake up to the sounds of school children playing in a nearby playground. The kids add a lot of life to our new home, and I have no doubt that this will be a good place for creative blooming. One small coincidence: our house-mate works for the Alma Midwife Center, which is mentioned in my previous entry regarding the belly-cast.

I took this photo before the move, but I hope to replace it with one that includes all of us, and some of the creatures that make this place already feel like “home”.