Fascinated by Facets

A few years ago I started layering line drawings on top of my watercolors that were more angular and faceted. What I thought was only my little muse's nudge, apparently has been a universal nudge. Facets are everywhere. For me, the winner of mastering facet rendering, is Carley Waito. These are not photos but oil on Masonite. Makes me wonder where my mom put my rock collection I started in the third grade. Her site and blog are here.

Arley-Rose Sees Letters Everywhere

My friend, Arley-Rose Torsone is a monster graphic designer, font maker, sign painter, letterpress printer, musician, and fine artist. She took a little jewelry making class at Penland last summer. As all her classmates lost themselves in earring findings and brooch clasps, Arley went nuts scrounging for scrap metal and banging it into letter form sculptures. Starting this Thursday night, January 27, these magnificent alphabet wonders can be seen at Craftland in Providence, along with many other pieces of Arley's art.  I guarantee they will make you smile and look at letters in a new way. Arley has a twinkle in almost everything she does and has the following to say about her work- 
"The thing I like about type is that each letter is like a person. They each have their own quirky way of existing, and yet they still seem to function properly. I like the way they fit and flirt with each other like capoeira dancers... or sometimes stand next to each other like strangers waiting in line at the DMV. I like to explore the wild world of type through letterpress, drawing, painting, digital type design and three-dimensional sculpture."
Opening reception January 27th, 5-8 pm and will run through February 26. For more info go here.

Throat clearing at my new studio

I just started working in my new painting studio. Trying to make it a daily practice to get in there. To keep a rhythm going with whatever it is that's starting to pop up. The beginning is always the hardest for me. The fluorescent lights have gotta go but I love the neighborhood. Roseberry Winn Pottery, Jenna Goldberg, Beehive Kitchenware are a few peeps down the hall. The work for Trafford Restaurant is beginning again and here are the early attempts to bring together a few ideas. Not sure where it's going, but that's always the best way, yes?

Art Show Opening September 16

My latest collection of abstract watercolors will be shown at Crowell's Gallery in New Bedford, MA September 16 through October 9. If you're nearby, please stop by for the opening reception September 16 from 6-9. Vivipary is what I call this body of work and you can definitely feel the labor pains around here as Kate, Paul and I pull the last bits together for the show. For those of you that have helped grow my list of followers, thank you so much. Great job. I'd love to send out some more free tiny art and you have till the 15th so nudge those online pals. If there is anyone I've missed please let me know. It's easy to loose track with peeps introducing themselves through email, facebook, tweetie birds.

The Color of Candlelight

Paul and I get to work in candlelight again. Mole Hollow Candles has asked us to shoot their product line and packaging design for the new site we're launching this fall. We had so much fun concepting and shooting a series of lifestyle shots for them last year. I feel so lucky when I have a client who trusts me with so many aspects of their branding. Logo, packaging, photo, and now the site. They also let me sneak one of my vivipary paintings into each shot. Art and commerce?

I Really Like Walter Feldman

As many of you know I get a little wobbly before a show. I think it's just what we get for wiring as artists. If we're sensitive to all the beauty around us why wouldn't we be sensitive to the criticism? I find showing and talking about my work to some trusted people just before, really helps. Gets me ready to let the work go and finally stand on my feet. I made a trip to the Little Compton studio of artist Walter Feldman this week and shared my work. I met Walter a few years ago because I sat across from him at a restaurant that has 10 of my collages on their walls. He asked the waitress who's work it was... he really liked it. We started talking and he told me he did a little painting, too and gave me his number if I wanted to get together. Walter is a charming 85 who has a lovely wife Barbara. When I came home and casually mentioned the encounter to Paul he nearly fell off his chair. "Walter Feldman likes your work? Sweetie this is great!" "Who's Walter Feldman?" I asked. Here and here are links to his work. A little intimidated to say the least, I brought my pile to him on Monday and with in minutes felt inspired rather than intimidated. He knew immediately which works were tied to my heart and which weren't. And how to tweek the ones that weren't quite singing yet. I felt so lucky to have this time with him. Some how we got around to this blog and the friends I'm finding on it and he asked "What is a blog, anyway and do you think I need a website?" So guess who get's to do a little payback and bringing Walter up to speed on this blogging thing?

I'm Giving Away Art

I've got an upcoming show at Crowell's Gallery in New Bedford and I thought I'd celebrate with a little give away. I'm also interested in growing my list of followers on this blog. So here's the deal, my goal is to triple you guys by my show opening, September 16. Send three followers my way and I'll send you, via mail, a little piece of original, signed art. The medium is watercolor crayon, pencil, paint, graphite pencil and chalkboard paint. The size is 5" x5" and will fit in this cute little stitched envelope. This is a limited offer, just till September 15. The show, which formally gets announced next week, is about looking closely at the vivipary around us. Isn't that a great word? Now go look that word up and some friends who might like this kind of thing.

Poem for Monday

Is my soul asleep?

Is my soul asleep?
Have those beehives that work
in the night stopped? And the water-
wheel of thought, is it
going around now, cups
empty, carrying only shadows?

No, my soul is not asleep.
It is awake, wide awake.
It neither sleeps nor dreams, but watches,
its eyes wide open
far-off things, and listens
at the shores of the great silence.

~Antonio Machado

-Painting by Yangyang Pan

Ok Couldn't Have a Week of Violet Without Wolf Kahn

 Wolf Kahn was a visiting artist at Swain School of Design when I was there in the 80's.  He got me excited about painting landscapes with pastels. The power in their immediate color, flexibilty, ability to travel. He manages to get violet in landscapes better than anyone. He honestly discusses his history, what he struggles with in his work, and how blindness has freed him in his painting here.

Opening the Kimono a Bit More

A few more beauties from Jenna Goldberg.

Poem for Monday

I Take Master Card

(Charge Your Love to Me)

-Nikki Giovanni

I've heard the stories
'bout how you don't deserve me
'cause I'm so strong and beautiful and wonderful and you could
never live up to what you know I should have but I just want to let you know:

I take Master Card

You can love me as much as your heart can stand
then put the rest on
account and pay the interest
each month until we get this thing settled

You see we modern women do comprehend
that we deserve a whole lot more
than what is normally being offered but we are trying
to get aligned with the modern world

So baby you can love me all
you like 'cause you're pre-approved
and you don't have to sign on
the bottom line

Charge it up
'til we just can't take no more
it's the modern way

I take Master Card
to see your Visa
and I deal with a Discovery but I don't want any American
Express 'cause like the Pointer Sisters say:  I need a slow hand. Nikki Giovanni

More of Jenn Stark

Poem for Monday

Color equals emotion for me. There was a time in my life I had to have a small red room to sit in. It seemed to get me geared up to spill my guts on stage or on a canvas. My office has a bright clean blue wall. I love walking in here to start a project. The blue helps me feel empty and ready to create fresh work for clients. A chunk of torquoise on my finger, when stared at, mellows me as much as a glass of wine. Accepting the whole spectrum of color is what I'm trying to be aware of emotionally and creatively. Jane Hirshfield's Lake and Maple poem is one I go back to often to understand the incredible beauty and power of this idea.

Lake and Maple

-Jane Hirshfield

I want to give myself
utterly
as this maple
that burned and burned
for three days without stinting
and then in two more
dropped off every leaf;
as this lake that,
no matter what comes
to its green-blue depths,
both takes and returns it.
In the still heart that refuses nothing,
the world is twice-born --
two earths wheeling,
two heavens,
two egrets reaching
down into subtraction;
even the fish
for an instant doubled,
before it is gone.
I want the fish.
I want the losing it all
when it rains and I want
the returning transparence.
I want the place
by the edge-flowers where
the shallow sand is deceptive,
where whatever
steps in must plunge,
and I want that plunging.
I want the ones
who come in secret to drink
only in early darkness,
and I want the ones
who are swallowed.
I want the way
the water sees without eyes,
hears without ears,
shivers without will or fear
at the gentlest touch.
I want the way it
accepts the cold moonlight
and lets it pass,
the way it lets
all of of it pass
without judgment or comment.
There is a lake.
Lalla Ded sang, no larger
than one seed of mustard,
that all things return to.
O heart, if you
will not, cannot, give me the lake,
then give me the song. 

Image at the MOMA from naturluv's flickr page.

Poem for Monday

So Much Happiness 

-Naomi Shihab Nye

 

It is difficult to know what to do with so much happiness. 

With sadness there is something to rub against,
A wound to tend with lotion and cloth.
When the world falls in around you, you have pieces to pick up,
Something to hold in your hands, like ticket stubs or change.

But happiness floats.
It doesn’t need you to hold it down.
It doesn’t need anything.
Happiness lands on the roof of the next house, singing,
And disappears when it wants to.
You are happy either way.
Even the fact that you once lived in a peaceful tree house
And now live over a quarry of noise and dust
Cannot make you unhappy.
Everything has a life of its own,
It too could wake up filled with possibilities
Of coffee cake and ripe peaches,
And love even the floor which needs to be swept,
The soiled linens and scratched records….

Since there is no place large enough
To contain so much happiness,
You shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you
Into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit
For the moon, but continues to hold it, and to share it,
And in that way, be known.

Painting by Yangyan Pan

I Love What Morgan Calderini Makes and Bakes

The definition of what art is, is one we all struggle with and work on to make our own. I decided ten years ago to settle with one that Milton Glaser suggests "Art is what moves the soul" And when I chose this weeks color the pale pink, Pantone 182, I immediately thought of Morgan Calderini's art form, hot air ballooning and specifically her balloon, Atlas. It moves a lot of people. The color of Atlas, her tenacity with building a balloon, learning to fly, causing children of all ages to chase her through acre long fields, is quite a story. Morgan Calderini (American, b.1985) surrounds herself with rather odd yet satisfying specialties: hot air balloon building,  printmaking, and pie baking are all things she takes very seriously. After having received her BFA in Printmaking from RISD in 2007,  Calderini chose to redefine the hierarchical printshop archetype by establishing and managing Rhode Islands only community printshop with a grant from AmeriCorps VISTA. Combining an interest in preserving a dying craft and sustaining its place in society with a pure desire to provide affordable and accessible printmaking resources, Calderini has found a home at the AS220 Community Printshop. When she's not baking killer blueberry pies or hunting for long lost litho stones that people have been using as door stops, she's learning to fly Atlas, her 70 foot, 54,000 cu. ft. hot air balloon that she built by herself when she was 22.

Can you tell me about your latest body of work? I am working on two large projects right now.  During my senior year at the RISD I built a hot air balloon as my thesis project.  From the beginning this has been an exercise in fundraising, communications, fabrication, design, and self discipline.  I am currently working on earning my pilot's licence from the FAA (federal aviation administration). 

The second project is a community Printshop that I've started with a group of other printmakers in downtown Providence at AS220, The AS220 Community Printshop.  I've been working there full time over the past two and half years with over 200 members to build a place for everyone to access equipment and knowledge.  We are moving in the fall to a space that is four times larger than our current home.    These are both part of what I  making and consider my work. 

What inspires you the most lately? The sunshine!  We are back to flying season here in Rhode Island.  I've been cooking dinner for one my balloonist friends and we get together each week to review regulations and study weather. 

What was your first memory? A hot air balloon landed down the street from our house in Colorado Springs, I was only 4 years old.

Can you describe the best thing you saw on your last walk? An amazing bakery and cheese shop on Main Street in Rosendale NY this past weekend. 

What are five things that would happen in the perfect day of work for you? The weather is perfect for a 4 am balloon ride, grab breakfast on the way to work.  The printshop is full of folks making their own art and I print along side them.  My ladyfriend and I meet for a picnic lunch outside.  Head home while the sun is still out. 

Can you describe the best pair of shoes you've ever owned? Red Justin Roper Cowboy boots. 

What are you doing this weekend? (March20-21) Rebuilding my inflator fan with my balloonist friend, Zach.  Going for a bike ride and baking a pie.

Poem for Monday

Pink Moon

-Nick Drake

I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get you all
It's a pink moon
Hey, it's a pink moon
It's a pink, pink, pink, pink, pink moon.
It's a pink, pink, pink, pink, pink moon.
I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get you all
It's a pink moon
Yeah, it's a pink moon


Paintings are from my Garden Stains series seen here.

Here's a great article

about Nick Drake written by

my brother-in-law,

TJ McGrath

Graffiti Surprise in 100 Years

"An artist is always alone - if he is an artist. No, what the artist needs is loneliness"-Henry Miller 
My sweetheart, Paul, is one of three photographers asked by AS220 to respond to and interpret the renovation of the Mercantile Building on Weybosset Street in Providence, RI. The last building AS220 transformed, the Dreyfus Hotel, now houses their admin offices, printshop, gallery and the restaurant Local 121. Describing The Dreyfus, a huge body of work by Paul Clancy, David Ellis, Erik Gould, Scott Lapham, Susan Mobley and the students of Photo Memory, was presented in the fall of 2007 and wonderfully represented the range of talent and vision of these artists. Many great discoveries and stories of past lives of the building came to the surface while these artist recorded the building being dismantled and brought to life again. Now it's the Mercantiles' turn and I've gotten to tag along a few times while Paul has shot there. One warm day last fall I  brought with me a big bag of drawing materials. The walls are large and were coming down so I thought it would be fun to use some large charcoal. Grandma does graffiti. What I found worked well were some charred logs from my fire pit out back. Why not? That's what the stuff is made from and these walls are big.  It's kind of spooky in there so I also brought with me a tiny oil painting by the founder of the Providence Art Club, self taught artist, George Whitaker. I hung it next to me on the wall while I worked. This tiny landscape is over a hundred years old and speaks to me so much about the difference between being alone and lonely. One of my favorite objects I've ever bought myself. A lovely fact I recently stumbled upon is George Whitaker's studio was in the Mercantile 100 years ago. So as I've watched them bury my drawing under new shiny wall studs I can't help but wonder if someone 100 years from now will discover my work beneath sheet-rock and be as touched by it as I've been by Mr. Whitaker's painting of the tiny figure in the field circled in light. Paul and I have a piece of work entitled Mercantile:Two Part Intervention that will be part of the AS220 show at the CCRI Knight Campus Gallery till March 4th with an opening Feb. 4th.

"Just perfect"
-Marth Stewart
The "P" word. It has followed me all my life and here's the big confession- I really thought into my late 20's, somewhere down deep, it should be sought after and could possibly be obtained. I'm a graphic designer and my work is about moving things tiny itty moves to left or right. So it's a hard one to let go of "being right" personally when professionally I spend so much time making things "look right" Then about 10 years ago I decide to take it out of my vocabulary completely. I found if I don't say it it is less likely I'll strive for it. But what replaces it? "Oh that looks so... complete on you?" "Wow that is the most whole color with your eyes". "I found the most incredibly beautiful on the planet art today on etsy?" Makes you stop and think doesn't it? Perfection is hard to replace isn't it? I love that Japan elevates the mending of broken ceramics to an art form called kintsugi. Cracks in broken pottery are carefully mended with lacquer and fine gold powder. The tea-ceremony embraces the beauty of imperfection. I picked up a book about Wabi Sabi 10 years ago and fell in love with the concept but when I went to describe it to friends it was hard to find the right words to give it justice. Got lost in Americano world. I'm getting better.  Barbara Bloom's show on being broken helped. Mary Oliver helps with her poem Wild Geese. Any poem that starts with- "You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees" makes me stop. So rather than resolutions for the year I like the idea of observing my relationship with a word. A word I can include in my daily conversations and thinking more often. The "I" word. Imperfection. "That looks just so... imperfect on you".

"God has put a secret art into the forces of nature so as to enable it to fashion itself out of chaos into a perfect world system"

-Immanuel Kant, Universal Natural and the Theory of the Heavens

This is a painful one. Ever feel extreme gratitude and pain at the same time? While creating a link for my first posting of this blog, I learned Charles Seliger had died at the beginning of the month. He was 83. Self taught and the last living abstract expressionist from the original group that created the term. Just 17 when Peggy Guggenheim saw his talent and decided to show him. And as often happens to me, he was a person who came across my path at just the right time in my life to answer questions and confirm some things I was wrestling with. I found a book on his work about 6 years ago in NY, thought it was interesting, then put it back on the shelf for a future read. 4 years later, on a cold winter Sunday, on the couch with a fire and Paul, I opened it thinking I'd just take a look. But instead I got a little weak in the knees and even weepy discovering his life, his process and seeing his art. Small paintings that were packed with so much life, I quickly realized that's what he was actually painting. The stuff the makes life, life. Paintings that drew you in and said "Come close, no really close". I felt tiny and in awe. His work and story haunted me so much, I some how found the ovaries to track him down and call. His wife Lenore answered the phone. ME-"I'm a huge fan, blahblah, trying to make paintings, blahblah, self taught blahblah" Long silence. LENORE- "Well I think you're very brave. No one does this anymore. Just call people they admire. I used to when I was younger" Then we had a great chat about how they met and she passed my info along to Charles. He called me the next day and it was like having 70 compacted years of the study of art, poetry, history, music and the NY Public Library on the other end of the phone. Tempered with kindness and compassion. In the last year and a half we've exchanged some letters (his written in the tiniest cursive on very cottony paper) he's sent me a beautiful collection of catalogues from his past shows, and Paul and I got to meet he and Lenore at his last show at the Michael Rosenfeld gallery. He's taught me so much and will continue to be my teacher. I've learned I'm autodidactic, I'd been naturally using automatism when I paint, he got me feeling less guilty about my massive book collection, tiny is fierce and beautiful, and that the constant change or chaos in nature within us and outside of us, is what makes life deserve the name life. Like I said, sad and grateful.

“World peace through better color”

-Alyn Carlson

That’s one of the things I put on my business cards and most people seem to get it. I’ve watched so many of my clients and friends walk into my studio or home and break out in a grin. They lovingly run their fingertips over colored pencils, hold a paint tube in an achy palm, and with their eyes caress swatches of color aid paper. They usually give me a happy glazed look and say something like “You must be so happy working with all this color.” Actually I am.

It was a rumble in my stomach for years. I took a 20 year break from making personal work and craved color so much it just started bubbling up in all my design. I found when I started a project the first thing I did was open the pantone swatch book and listen for direction. When the damm broke and I started making personal work again about 8 years ago, I floated around with an expression on my face similar to the Dalai Lama’s. So why do we walk around starving ourselves? Pick the softest palest taupe and avoid the sexy tomatoe bisque? Afraid? Of what?

One of my favorite rants on that subject is by David Batchelor in his slim little hot pink book, Chromophobia. The more western our thinking is, the more urban we get, the farther away from intense color we find ourselves. Is color vulgar, dirty, primitive? Why should we bother to even consider this right now with all this economic malaise? Shouldn’t we lay low and keep our heads down, no changes, stay as beige as possible, and make ourselves as quiet and small as we can?

Because color = joy. What I love and am moved by every day, abstract expressionist Charles Seliger’s Ways of Nature, my little spring green Roseberry Winn vase, and even my carved bakelite bangles, feed me. I know responsible austerity is wise right now but so is smiling every day.

Hey my demi god, Milton Glaser puts it so well “If you like Mozart and I like Mozart we really have something in common. So the likelihood of us killing each other has been diminished.”

Don’t you just love the color yellow?