Immersed, Emerging, Evolving & Branding

Catching up on this personal branding thing.  words came to mind.
immerse, immersion
techniques not tricks*
timeless not classic
evolving
discovery
communicative
connection

and finally,

Colorful Layers.  Like a person is, hopefully.

Why timeless not classic?  Classic denotes a style; timeless is unrestricted.

*Chagrin for my latest class description when for reasons of brevity I used the term tricks, instead of technique.  Tricks seems to cheapens the knowledge process, as I developed or learned it through trial and error, or the trials and errors of those who have gone before to whom I paid vast amounts of time and money to attend their workshops.   There i go again with the verbosity.

I'll just describe the last 2-3 years as mor than painful and chronically debilitating.  Somehow I managed to paint a bit and teach some classes, but not at full throttle.  It felt like an endurance trial.  Normally, doing what I love, keeps pain at bay until I stop then wham! it hits me later and I recover a day or two later.   Because  pain/pleasure running to/from the same circuits in the brain, so only one of those can fill the circuit at the same time.  So, when I'm painting I'm pain free.  (Music can likewise fill the same pathway, blocking the pain.)  This newer pain kept me off my feet a good deal from last February to September.   Pain that bad and for that long stops a person from operating at a creative and social level.  It kept me from painting and even attending most social events, and even base socialization.  How much does a friend want to hear about your pain level each day?   How boring can one be when all your brain can process at a conscious level is "THIS HURTS DAMMIT".  Chronic pain is a chronic condition lasting more than 3 months.  I've had a major one lasting most of my life but carefully managed or mismanaged it to an almost manageable level.  that's how clearly I think when at that level.

Warning: even more boring parts ahead.  That condition was surpassed and well-enhanced the last 3 years by the introduction of osteoarthritis with accompanying bone spurs that stab various parts of me when walking.  I got one of those fixed a year ago by having a total hip replacement.  The other worsened since a knee operation something like 11 years ago, and has since plagued me.  Thanks to modern injections of thick, thick collegen into the knee region, this can be relieved for 6 months, then pain returns and new injections begin and are repeated every 6 months, indefinitely. They are given in 3 doses, 1 week apart, for 3 weeks, then it takes about a week or so to sink in around the knee cap and cushion the bone.  These injections when they work, postpone the inevitable knee replacement.  The doctors keep telling me I'm took young for total knee replacement so until I get older and it worsens, my option is to get these injections.   Insurance denials, etc. postponed injections from February to June.   Happily in June the injections began again but crummily, I had a hypersensitive reaction that threw my summer in my face and I relieved last year's agony when waiting for my hip replacement.  They weren't sure which ingredient my system reacted to so badly but I had to let it be drained and wait for the rest to drain from my system while propping my knee up with ice, a lot.   Anyhoo, my doctor tried another brand in August and lo behold it worked so I can walk again for a few months, I hope, without walking aids.  As a person that used to hold records in track (I was a runner), and hang by my knees swinging and generally abusing my knee joints, this has been a trial and cruel punishment.

RESUME -- BACK TO LIFE

I wasn't sure until just before September if I could teach this fall.  Then the injections kicked in and helped my knee pain.  So I am happily, thrilled even, to return to teaching in October.  I just participated in the bi-ennual Open Studio Tour this last weekend.  (People came!  People bought original paintings!  And I thought no one would show up!  And they showed ME!)  I am grateful, so grateful, to just be able to be grateful.  When in constant pain, one is not grateful.  Even to be alive.  One thinks, is this it? Will it ever end? If you're crabby with muscle aches from flu, imagine those aches not stopping except through broken sleep.  So, I'm really grateful now.  Grateful that my grandkids could visit from Japan and I could go to theme parks and children's museum and make it up and down a few stairs.  Grateful to get the studio tour behind me.  Almost grateful about the hummingbird that just buzzed me on this beautiful September day.  Grateful for friends and family.  Grateful for art and the ability to feel it and do it.

I'm evolving and connecting.

Wayne Thiebaud's "Cakes"

Flowers and Frosting

I returned Friday late afternoon from a week of painting in sunny Eugene, Oregon (between bursts of hail, rain and sun) as April bursts on the scene.  There's something about finishing a workshop, it is like a marathon and when you're finished, there is an elation and relief at having completed it, and coming home to sleep for 12 hours with dreams of painting and color.  I dreamt of patterns and layered glazes of color then my dreams morphed into painting like  Wayne Thiebaud's Cakes, visualizing thick layers of various colors of paint subtly and deliciously blending like frosting.  

With spring approaching, my new granddaughter Anika arrived less than a month ago.  Daffodils burst forth to great her home to Portland.  Now tulips are springing up and my chive buds are on.  My passion for painting is in high gear. 

Much going on in the way of events in the fall and winter, finished a major commissioned piece (6 feet x 6 feet), and new exhibits in fall and winter were very successful.  A very long cold winter was brightened by many festive and fun and fundraising events in the art community.  I opted out of having surgery on my right hand in January (having gone through that a year prior on my left) and just try not to over-do my hands, when trying to open stuck paint jars.  I'm way too young for osteoarthritis but humbly learned the hard way when your doctor says take calcium and Vitamin D, do it!  You don't get it back and reconstructive hand surgery is major and takes at least a year to heal, no matter what the surgeon tells you before (that 12 week-thing is just initial healing and physical therapy). 

Some new works are completed and delivered just weeks ago to my main gallery.  Another gallery owner recently did a studio visit and checked several paintings out for commercial placement.  Major construction in the lower level of the house began followed by studio renovation, a project that was put off for nearly 3 years.  The ceiling is lifted to align with the roof slope, and four 4-foot skylights are being dropped in (one will open).  I have lots of windows and doors so plenty of open space onto the 60-foot deck.  Funny thing, we just learned local building codes require a ventilation fan that will never be used.  (Again, 3 doors enter my studio and there are tons of windows that open too, as well as a whole house fan and heat pump.)   I won't gain floor space but it feels like a face "lift" for the gallery walls, more spacious.   Right now it really looks spacious with nothing in it but studs, beams, wires and a sink.  Electrical work is done and will be inspected Monday.  Then drywall begins. 

I am looking forward to resuming teaching a late spring course in May, after we return from Santa Fe / Taos for some intensive art indulgence.   With time built in to see my new granddaughter, Anika.

Sometimes things take awhile to soak in, to impregnate into our brain.  things we know but can't exactly feel.  We hear it, we know it, but the lines don't connect.  I have finally caught on to karma.  What negativity one put out  there comes back 10 times, and whatever positive energy we unleash comes back as well. Sometimes, almost instantly we are plagued or blessed; the lines are now so clear, but sometimes not soon enough.  We progress as long as we continue learning and sharing positive energy, thoughts, and most importantly, action.

Footsteps

In Spring 2010 I entered the old building downwtown, formerly known as "The Metropolitan".  Abandoned for years, it was just getting cleaned out with a bulldozer parked in the center of the 9,000 square foot main floor.  Dust and debris covered the floor, while treads from shoes of the cleaning crew left their marks.  Some of the tiles looked like abstract landscapes, but the shoe treads reminded me of my history with this building.  I photographed the drab tiles on the floor, most of which are worn, cracked and scarred from years of use, misuse and neglect.  I was getting ready for this space to made into a lively center of arts projects this summer, in which I was to be one of several studio artists.  I was reminded of the history of the many pairs of feet that had trod on this urban landscape, including mine and my mothers, years ago.

My mother, Christeen Bolt, was one of the people whose busy feet walked through the Metropolitan Store when I was young.  Later as a young mother, I brought my own children to buy trinkets and such.  It was an easy challenge to find how many things we could each buy for a quarter -- metal cricket clickers and plastic toys for party favors, plastic french fry baskets, surplus sewing notions, ribbons, bags of marbles.  It was a cavernous store full of all kinds of mostly useless and unattractive stuff.  Probably ugly shower curtains were to be found there, too.  Perhaps it was nicer in its heyday, before I was born.

Mother taught elementary school, first in California, and later in Oregon, retiring in 1986.  She passed away in 1998.  When I later had the sad chore of going through her belongings, I got to what was left at the bottom of her closet.  As I sat on the floor, I found myself eye-level with her shoes, standing straight up in the metal stand, looking ready to go for the day.  In front and center were her worn out tan, leather size 10-1/2 shoes that she had worn on playground duty.  Even after retirement, they remained her go-to ugly-but-comfortable shoes for her big, flat feet.  She used to say that her big feet gave her a "Good Understanding of Life" and always ensured she left a "Big Impression."  It took me a few years of maturity to appreciate her dry wit.

The gaping empty shoes mirrored the emptiness I felt, as I foolishly and fervently wished her feet so suddenly be back in these shoes, with all the rest of her intact and healthy.  Her shoes reflected her journey and passion in life: educating young minds.  Her feet, always so steady and strong as she watched over her students in the classroom and on the playground.  Big feet that pressed the gas pedal in the car, ferrying us kids to music lessons, the library, swimming, and the beach.  Great, beautiful solid feet that carried her as she laughed, chasing her grandchildren.

Although her feet will leave no more impressions, the places those feet took me continue to influence me, my children, and eventually their children.

Now, there are footsteps here in this art space, this Project Space.  Laughter and conversations of those creating art as well as those appreciating and supporting art being made.  Leaving their own impressions. 

Small feet, big feet
Footsteps long forgotten that left no impression
Footsteps from people no longer alive
Footsteps from those who have forgotten being here
Footsteps from some, who will remember.

I am a painter.  I make art, I create.  I photographed several of the floor tiles with the most 'character' to inspire mixed media paintings on 12 wood panels.  Applying up to 20 layers of paint with brush, rag, screens and scrapers, I added my own collaged images.  The finish looks like wax, but is actually 2-3 layers of my own recipe for faux encaustic (wax) that adds a depth and aged look.  Shown above is one of the finished wood panel pieces, showing a division of  4 tile spaces.

For the Wildlife: Washing Our Faces in Oil

I work in a series of paintings, so many ideas spring to mind that I don’t want to put them all in one piece. It is just as easy, and provides more creative outlets for me to do several pieces as a series, rather than just one. I utilize recovered/recycled papers, often using salvaged pages from National Geographic magazine, treating it with a solvent that dissolves the ink, leaving some text exposed, mingled among ink colors dispersed in random patterns. Each 3x3 canvas is sealed with my unique faux encaustic media.

This Quadtych represents the creatures and birds of the sea hoping for rescue and salvation from the Gulf Coast oil disaster. Clockwise L-R are (1) a seabird circling the sun, escaping the oil, yearning for salvation;(2) is underwater view of a sea turtle with the sun shining above, with the turtle’s outline digitally “solarized” to create a glow;(3) is a crested seabird soaring above the water, its wingtips nearly touching those of its brothers and sisters; (4) is a zoom-out of many seabirds randomly flying around circular shapes, now representing the dangers of multiple oil wells threatening the ocean and its inhabitants.

In the process of finishing this piece, I was using the National Geographic pages in another series that I am simultaneously working on (I have to find something to do while waiting for paint to dry). I randomly chose one page out of hundreds that I have on hand, because it had a pattern I thought would work, but I didn’t need the other half of that page. The design didn’t look like anything I would use so when I turned it over to check the pattern on the reverse side, the following text stood out:

“There is only one joy for us,
And this is all we need,
To wash our faces in the new oil,
Of the drilling rig.”

This, I discovered, was a page from an article pertaining to Russian oil drilling, however, I knew the text could not have appeared in my hand by accident, and the words were meant to be part of this piece. So, maybe I should call this a “Five Tych” since the words of the fifth element are a necessary part of the whole. The title of the piece, had to be: “Washing our faces in the New Oil”

Each original piece of art will be sold on a Special Wednesday night event on July 21, from 5-7:30 p.m. All proceeds will benefit the National Wildlife Federation. Location: Project Space, 150 Liberty Street, Salem, Oregon. For information, visit www.saaprojectspace.org.

Art Speaks, Project Space and More

A 2-1/2 week exhibit called "ART SPEAKS: Are You Listening?" turned into a two month interactive exhibit, and coordinating about 30 artists in a magnificent museum like setting was something, and gave me a new appreciation for gallery owners. Sales were good, the location was fantastic and the rent was better than excellent (donated by Salem's premier patron of arts and culture). This summer begins with PROJECT SPACE in downtown Salem. If I could figure out to do the easy link I would, but it is at saaprojectspace.org. Working as a studio artist in a 6000 square foot building, with several other wonderful artists. I feel privileged to be a part of this space. With a brief break I am going to a family reunion, and will return refreshed (yeah right) and eager to enjoy a warm summer with collaborative artists. We're also doing an art benefit for "the birds" in the gulf, more to come on that at the website referenced a few lines up there. Life is good, always good, today.

Lost and Found

When google mail changed to gmail I lost my way... then I lost my password, and so forth and so on. So I'm back, able to blog. I continue painting and showing up for life. Facebook has taken over for keeping up on my life, so please find me there, and I guess I'll get back here again someday.