The Creative Struggle

Navigations [scanned quilt piece with digital embellishments]

 

things that do not seem to be working with one medium, come alive in another --

it's sometimes a frustrating journey, even from one step to the next --

sometimes it means going backwards to move forward --

and then again, maybe one doesn't want to move forward

but rather scuttle sideways . . .

how often do we get lost in the tangles of good intentions and great ideas?

quite often, for me anyhow --

the clock always seems to be ticking, a constant drip on the brain --

so what is one to do?

The creative process.  It's an arduous journey, a slow trek, a humbling process that demands your respect yet also your faith.  It reminds me of "Jacob wrestling with the Angel," that has been depicted by many artists over time --

Who at some point has not felt like Jacob, a mortal struggling with the Divine, holding fast to the angel all through the night and refusing to let go until, at dawn, he prevails and receives a blessing – an answer to his prayers. 

 Since the Renaissance artists have found in this tale a metaphor for the creative struggle. Rembrandt depicted it as a tender embrace . . . while Donato Creti portrays the struggle as more like a dance with the angel seeming to struggle more so than Jacob.

The British film director Sally Potter used the painting in yet another manner to depict the very basic struggle between the masculine and the feminine in The Tango Lesson.

So I suppose those of us who attempt to create should not despair as this has been going on since the dawn of time.   Ah, I feel so much better now -- 

"If you decide to enter the page

take a knife and some matches,

and something that will float. Take something you can hold onto,

and a prism to split the light and a talisman that works,

which should be hung from a chain around your neck:

that's for getting back."   

                                                 Margaret Atwood

Digital Playtime

A Quiet Corner

Taking time off from gardening -- 4 glorious days of beautiful weather, sun, balmy breezes, raking, transplanting, sowing seeds, potting up flowers for the deck and front entrance -- these are the moments one waits for all winter as the snow and ice keep us somewhat trapped inside!

So, this afternoon, while waiting for laundry to finish and paying bills online (ugh), I pulled up some pics from my phone, played with some vintage textures and historical scripts.  This shot was actually taken at a hotel one morning while having my morning coffee.  I had been making notes to myself about something or other; the hydrangeas I had "stole" from the hotel garden the night before.  The light was perfect, so 'snap' went the phone. 

If I ever resurrect my writing blog on Wordpress, I will probably use this as my banner because, no matter how convenient the computer is for writing, there is something much more satisfying about writing with a pen or pencil on paper. 

And certainly there is the wonderful art of letter writing, which many of us have forgotten.  When was the last time you received a hand-written letter, not just a card or postcard?   I can't even recall, probably years . . . sigh.

Spring Sale!

Just spending some time trying to organize various painting, drawings, sketches, etc.   This weekend the weather has been a bit too cold to do much in the garden, so am diddling around in the 'studio,' doing odds and ends.  It's hard to get motivated on a Sunday when you know Monday is only a few hours away!

Decided to try "marketing"  some of my works, as I'm contemplating opening up an Etsy store later in the spring.  But whatever the decision, many of my paintings and collages are availabe on Red Bubble as prints, notecards and more -- just click on the images below -- 

Painting from Photos and Memory

"The light of memory, or rather the light that memory lends to things, is the palest light of all. . . . I am not quite sure whether I am dreaming or remembering, whether I have lived my life or dreamed it.

 Eugène Ionesco 

 

CT River, Late Autumn

Still working on the river and coastline oils -- at this time of year I'm depending upon the many photos I've taken over the years along the Connecticut, Massachusetts and Maine coastlines; also depending upon my memories of driving the CT River for over 15 years. 

However, the more I work on these coastline / river paintings, I seem to be concentrating on the skies and the breaking light rather than the actual waters. So much does depend upon the light, though. A ho-hum gray day can become quite dramatic when the cloud cover breaks and a shaft of sunlight splits the skies. 

Departing Clouds

Or perhaps it's a battalion of clouds scudding across the horizon after a storm, giving an ominous look to everything.

Well, we're not too far from Daylight Savings Time and Spring -- hooray!  After last week's blizzard, I have had enough of winter, although I admit that winter does afford one the time to work, paint, collage, quilt, knit inside.  Once spring arrives, the gardens will need tending, raking out, transplanting, etc.  And so the painting tends to take a back seat during those weeks.

But my plan is to get outside more and paint -- I re-joined the CT Plein Air Painters [I had let that lapse last year with the new job] and am hoping that will give me the incentive to get out there and paint from the real thing, not simply photos and memory.

Beach Cottages in Fog, the Cape

That's the plan -- but then the deck and the gardens tend to keep me close to home once the hard work has been done.  Ah, well --  I suppose I can always paint my garden!   Like Monet, I will sit amidst the roses and clematis with my battered straw sun hat and revel in the scents and colors of summer. 

Sounds like a plan to me . . . :-)

A Sense of Place

There are some places that live with us. Perhaps we grew up in these special spaces; perhaps we live in them currently. They become a part of our psyche, like a silent tapestry that abides within . . .

For me, it is the oceans, rivers and lakes of the Northeast. I grew up on eastern Long Island and could walk to the beach from my house. My husband and I, when we were dating, spent most of our free time at the beach. Every summer we head for Cape Cod and our children, now grown, follow in the familiar path to the Cape.

Every autumn we head north to Maine and walk the coastline, drinking in the wide open spaces, the quicksilver skies. On my daily commute I pass along the CT River and witness amazing turns of light and of seasons.

These sketches and paintings are my attempts to capture those moments . . .

Encroaching Storm [watercolor and gouache]

Spindrift, West Dennis [watercolor and gouache]

Thunder Skies [watercolor and gouache]

“A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.” 

Joan Didion

Pastels Redux

So many times I've tried to work with pastels, and so many times I have given up in frustration, moving back to oils or acrylics.  Just could never seem to get a handle on this medium.

And yet over the years I have admired so many pastel artists' works; I even subscribe to Pastel Magazine.  Then, this morning while having my first 400 cups of coffee, I read through the latest issue that just arrived yesterday.  I was bowled over once again by the beauty, the softness, the fine nuances of the colors. 

So while taking a morning walk, I mentally charged myself to go back to the drawing board, literally.  This time I would not dawdle with accuracy; I would aim for swiftness and mass, huge chunks of colors on a watercolor background, working into the wetness for that lovely smudged aspect.

Who are my favorite pastel artists?  First and foremost, Wolf Kahn.  I have several of his books and review them frequently.

Swift Skies, 6" x 9"

Other pastel artists I have been following over the years is Casey Klahn, Marla Baggetta, Deborah Stewart and Carolyn Caldwell.  I think Bagetta's influence is quite obvious on this piece below.  She has several vidoes on YouTube, which truly inspire yet also put you at ease in her laid back attitude toward making art.

Morning in January, 5" x 7"

I found that today, after several hours of working quickly, that I liked working on 150 lbs. heavy bristol paper by Canson, usually used for comic and manga drawing. It held up well under the watercolor and multiple applications of the pastels. 

High Summer, 8" x 10"

As I moved, I found myself becoming braver about using my fingers and the sides of my hand to smooth and smudge. Pastels are quite forgiving and change is possible without losing momentum. 
 

Early Autumn on the River, 5" x 7"

How do I feel after today's attempts? Not too shabby! I think I may have finally moved to another stage in my development using pastels. They are immediate; they are forgiving and they are certainly easy to transport for quick sketches, etc. 

I think I will continue to pursue pastels, especially during these dreary months of winter. To have this array of lush colors before me is the best tonic.  

I don't think I have enough, though.  Guess I better take a trip to the art store, don't you?

Building the Simple

bird fly away

Collage

5" x 7" 

Oddly enough, life is quiet now only two days away from Christmas.  Having some time off, I've been working with simple materials: papers, fabrics, text from an old Italian dictionary, small bits of willow branches found on my morning walks. I'm hoping to take part in the International Collage Exhibition and Exchange run by Dale Copeland. It's been a few years since my last participation, so it's time to bring out the boxes of papers and such. The work above is mainly created from specialty papers from Nepal and India, some bits of marbleized papers, scrap fabrics from the quilt stash and a slender piece of Japanese silk yarn around the perimeter. I then stitched the collage onto Canson pastel paper using another Japanese paper thread.

Leave Taking

Collage
4" x 6"

Leave Taking is built upon a scrap of silk dupioni using papers, a bit of a monoprint I did last year,  Italian text and a willow branch stitched down with copper on Bristol paper.  I love the contrast between the fragile silk and the papers and copper stitching.  I hope to work on some more over the coming weeks.  I think participating in an exchange/exhibit keeps one focused and on track.  I find that I need that type of structure to discipline myself -- otherwise, I fiddle and procrastinate.

Quilting is another form of building with simple materials. This is a glimpse of a smaller work I did years ago, but became impatient to finish it as a full-scale quilt. So I framed it in a wooden embroidery hoop and hung it on the wall by the fireplace. Now when I'm on the couch reading or doing more hand-stitching, I look up at this and feel good about its simple lines and monochromatic colors.

No Rhyme or Reason

36" x 40"

In an all-together different vein, this is a mid-sized wallhanging quilt, mostly done over several summers at Cape Cod, hand-stitched and then machine-stitched into a larger piece when I had finally accumulated enough blocks. There was never any pattern except for the basic log cabin pattern. It is certainly not symmetrical; perhaps a bit wonky here and there -- but it makes me smile when I look at it, thinking of those summer days at the Cape and how the slow stitching and piecing kept me sane while raising teenagers -- need I say more?

Collage and quilting -- a process of building, of piecing, of working with colors and textures, with surface and design. Don't you just love it?

 In the depth of winter I finally learned

that there was in me an invincible summer. 

Albert Camus

Digital Collages for an Autumn Afternoon

Playing with a new computer, struggling with learning curves, new software, etc. Time is a bit short, need to get outside before the sun sinks too low . . . hate this late autumn/early winter adjustment.  It's somewhat disorienting, making one feel robbed of the day.

Seems as if there isn't enough time to paint, so this is the next best thing -- digital collaging.  I like building up the layers, working with old texts, creating my own custom brushes.

Perhaps someday I'll actually use these in something -- what, I'm not sure yet.  I'm still learning how to work with the software and my photos.  Perhaps I'll purchase those kits I keep reading about . . . 

This image was from an old house wall whose siding was peeling off in sheets.  I cropped it closely, then added multiple layers of old text and a final layer of an abstract painting, which I adjusted in several blending modes.  I wasn't sure where this was going, but finaly had a sense of a portal into a kind of fantasy realm . . . ? 

This image was worked up from a paper towel after I'd mopped up a mess on my painting table.  When it dried, I scanned it, then left it on the computer for months.  Today as I was scrolling through my files, I came across it once again.  I liked the effect of the little nubbly texture that the scan had retained from the paper toweling. 

Using that I began adding elements -- old leaves I had scanned, old texts, flourishes cropped from the vintage signatures, and finally an  overlay of an old watercolor painting inverted and blended.

I'll have to wait for the upcoming holiday weekend to play further with these -- or make some more. I'd like to do more with these -- I've seen so many interesting digital works in magazines like "Digital Studio" -- I just need time, something that seems to be elusive these days --
 

setting sun melts into woodsmoke --

regrets rising with the moon

Last evening I sat in the garden watching the sun crouch down among the pines and the shadows stretch long, dark fingers across the lawns.

There is something incredibly beautiful about a summer garden heading into its final hours. Perhaps melancholy, yet still holding forth that fragile-edged beauty that whispers to one's soul --

 

“Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence.

Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance.

Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence."

Yoko Ono

Wherever and how ever . . .

Storms blew in yesterday afternoon and early evening -- small tornadoes touching down throughout New York and Connecticut. Very strange stuff!

But this morning the sun broke out and the air was crisp and cool with a slight breeze. One could feel the edges of autumn brushing past as I strolled through the garden, searching for any mishaps and destruction from the high winds. Luckily everything was in good shape.

Switching gears, creatively speaking, I began working on several quilting projects this weekend. At this time of year, I tend to gravitate to more tactile projects. Perhaps the cooler weather and the first signs of hibernation lead one to pick up fabric or yarn, things that warm and comfort us.

These two blocks of beautiful batiks are actually one large block, about 12" x 12" -- just couldn't get the whole piece on the scanner. I picked up the fabric at the World International Quilt Festival in New Hampshire a few weeks ago -- luscious cherry reds and burnt umbers, golds and deep greens -- good enough to munch on.  I have no particular plan in mind, perhaps several large 12x12 blocks embedded in an off-white batik background, something that will make those colors POP!  Or maybe a deep navy -- I can never tell until I start placing the pieces together on a large open surface.

Often as I work with these bits and pieces of fabric and colors I think about painting abstracts or building a collage -- what if I did this with oil and cold wax?  what if I did something like this in pastels or with papers? -- 

You see, it never ends.  Or rather it's all connected somehow, isn't it?  Whether you're creating with traditional materials, such as fiber, or with more aesthetic materials, such as oil or pastel, one is always creating, combining color and pattern, texture and line, seeking that point where all comes together into some thing that pleases, that sparks excitement or serenity.

This odd little fellow [above] is a block I experimented with in following the methods of Rayna Gilman and her quilt work, as published in Free-form Quilting, a great book that takes you out of the same-old, same-old frame of mind.  I'm still not sure I have the hang of it yet, but will continue to challenge myself.

Another experiment but more in the realm of combining colors -- hot pinks and oranges with deep cobalt blues and purples, all couched in that gorgeous khaki green shade -- BAM!  It makes one's heart beat faster, makes you want to dance around the room to some Brazilian jazz -- oh, yeah!

So you see, whether working with fiber or with paints, you learn so much about color combinations, pattern and line mixing and more. And, in the case of quilting, you end up with something that you can wrap around yourself, or around someone you love, and feel cozy and protected. How good is that?

"These fragments I have shored against my ruins."

T.S. Eliot

The Waste Land