Water

I have been spending some time in, on and near the water this past summer. My colleague Fran and her fellow professor, Lisa, introduced me to an author while in South Carolina. Carol Goodman captures the magic and allure of the sea and large bodies of water. Having completed The Lake of Dead Languages, which Fran loaned to me in June, I wanted to read more of Goodman's work and am now savoring The Seduction of Water. If you enjoy folklore or fairy tales, writing and have some familiarity with NYC and upstate New York (or want to visit there some day), you'll enjoy these novels.



In The Seduction of Water, Goodman weaves a tale about an author and part-time teacher, whose own mother (also an author) told her a bewitching tale about selkies before leaving her when she was ten-years-old. These "seal women" were credited with captivating men with their beauty and voices, transforming themselves between seals and women. So enchanted by her childhood fairytale, I painted To Lure A Selkie yesterday in our studio, but haven't yet decided what more needs to be done. Suggestions, anyone?

Person with a Braid--Cheryl Bogdanowitsch

Here I am once again putting a clay head on a log or branch, this one really seems to go with the log, the face with a singing mouth and the opening in the log. The braid was a lucky find, wish I had more pieces of wood like that.

expanding horizons

I'm newly returned from a workshop (i.e., session with my art coach, Steve Aimone) at New Smyrna Beach, FL's hidden gem: Atlantic Center for the Arts. This workshop focused on moving us yet another step forward in our process. I and eight other artists ventured forward and accepted challenges given us, absorbing the critiques of our colleagues and coach, pushing the envelope.

A few photos of different images from this workshop are attached. Once again, my work is in progress: these pieces may not look like this tomorrow. At one point, midweek and when I was nursing a bad sinus headache, an unknown child whose image had been haunting my dreams for more than two weeks was rendered into a large piece (about 50"). I don't know who she is, but she now exists on canvas...and my dreams of her stopped. After this day, I resumed a more playful method that I most enjoy in painting, incorporating language and iconography that are significant to us, to me and to our common history. A photo of me with the illusive toddler and other symbolic pieces is included here.

I have embraced a new road for myself in creating art. There is something very exciting about positive change.

Missing in Action

The summer is flying by and our show (in March) feels like it is zooming towards me in fast forward. I've finally gotten all the various parts completed and assembled on some pieces that have been hanging around the studio for a while. The "pieces" of these pieces are becoming more and more complex, I think of them as various voices having conversations.

Areas of the pieces are becoming highly decorative (I read several books by Carol Goodman this summer and in one she writes about the work of William Morris) so I started integrating this type of printed pattern in the stitchery sections. Here is one in progress.

The overall piece has six panels. Here is how they are configured (at this point), that could change.

And finally, I completed this very RED piece and I am quite happy with it.

art therapy

Art is life for me. It is my therapy, but also often my frustration. Have you ever struggled to find an answer to a puzzle or the secret ingredient in a tasty dish that you're trying to duplicate? It's elusive, but once you think that you've found the answer, you savor that small victory (at least until the next challenge comes along).

A case in point is this painting. I started the usual way: by writing, responding to music (in this case, some wonderful Ukrainian ballads about Spring and Summer love), and working into a compositional format. I thought of the luscious colors of June and July, and selected a limited palette. I started painting into my words, some of which were lyrics from Cheremshyna. Two colleagues in my communal studio felt that I was painting a bouquet, hardly something that I would normally paint. But they seemed to have something there, so I went with it. When nearly done, a few colleagues pointed out that the vase containing the flowers seemed to be "floating." Thanks to my pals and mentors, Melissa Mason, Fran Gardner and Peter Cerreta, possible solutions were developed and this painting resulted. Reluctantly, we have to brand it a "still life." But here it is for now: For You.

from the mouths of babes...

The past two weeks have been spent volunteering at local art camps in central Florida. As I have noticed in the past, I am learning more from these young students that I often can from an adult instructor. Their innocence and fresh impressions impact how I create my own art.

This past week, I displayed a newer painting of mine, Channeling Joan, which measures 54X42 on canvas, to an art camp student, who also happens to be multi-lingual and reads and writes Russian. As usual, I started with language and writing: in this instance, I wrote out an old Ukrainian church hymn, which focuses on doubt and faith, in inks and started painting into it, using my fingers and brushes, thinking of Joan Mitchell's work.

The student could read portions of the Cyrillic letters that were left exposed in this piece, but the astute camper's impression of the piece focused on the entire composition. "I see the face, it looks confused but happy." Perhaps it is time to retitle it Pondering Joan?

unpacking my thoughts

A few days before leaving for USC-Lancaster, I pulled out an unresolved older painting in storage. The gallery-wrapped canvas was narrow (48X24) and originally painted with a vertical orientation. A detail of the 2006 painting appears on the left.

When things don't work out, we paint into them. In this instance, I changed the orientation and my source, focusing on the theme of this exhibition. Playing with my materials, That's the Story of My Life emerged (depicted on the right), a few hours before leaving for South Carolina. I'm still tinkering with minor things in the latest painting. Like our lives, it too may morph into something different in the not-too-distant future. But for the most part, I will let it rest for now.