Compositions in Time

What a summer I had!  In my summer studio in Duntara, a small community on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean,   I work almost exclusively in reclaimed wood and wood assemblage.  The whole series is called Compositions in Time.  I scour the  beaches in my area for finds, chat with people about my love for the old and discarded, and forge interesting friendships that often result in finds coming my way.  Everyone want to get in on creation.


It was one of my most productive periods in years.

 With two shows slated, one a group show in July at 2 Rooms Contemporary Art Projects in Duntara,   and the other a solo show in September at Two Whales, Port Rexton,  I knew I  didn't have time to waste.

Here's my  art summer in pictures....

 Looking across the  Duntara harbour at our house (it's the little speck on the far shore)

Our garden that rolls to the sea with views that inspire. 

Our new pristine workshop (shared with my husband)  was completed in early May after a fire demolished our old one the year before.   Thanks to a kitchen reno in our St. John's house this space has mega counters and storage and always looks so organized and pristine.

Showtime 



Two Rooms Contemporary Art Projects, Duntara .  This is not your ordinary gallery.

And this is not your usual opening....  What a beautiful day we had. 

Some shots of my work in the gallery

And then on to Two Whales in September.... 

 Two Whales Coffee Shop , art John Hoffstetter 

I loved how my work looked so comfortable on the walls of this old house/ coffee shop. 

And there you have it.  This fall I started posting  on Instagram in earnest as a way to be accountable.  While I miss my wood pursuits, I've been experimenting with encaustic monotype and collage.  I seem  have a great need to create, decompose and recompose, where's it going I have no idea. 

Catching time

Well that sure flew by.  I can't believe I wrote my last post in September 2015 after our big  workshop fire.   Perhaps there's a good reason for no posts. Yes, indeed there is! You can't make work when you aren't in the studio, and you don't go to the studio when you are creatively flatlined.  Thankfully that's over.

 I am back at the summer house and busy getting the new workshop workable,  and at the same time madly scouring my usual haunts to find new reclaimed wood and interesting attachments for my future assemblages to complete enough work for my Solo show in September.  Remember I lost three years worth of collecting in one day.

In a fit of positive thinking (that doesn't happen much) I saved some of my most precious wood scraps in the hope of getting the smell of smoke out of them.  That little experiment begins June 1.

It seems I am finding all sorts of things on the beaches, but none of them, are as far as I know now, are  of any use for  my future creations.

Perhaps I'm wrong! I just may be on second glance.  

Endings and beginnings

Yearly transitions have marked my life since I first began teaching in the early 1970s.  September still remains a month for new beginnings and untold possibilities.  I need that this year after a dismal summer of cold weather,  unexpected house repairs, and then a fire in our Duntara workshop.

The way it was....

Now....

Summer is my time to create art and our workshop was where it happened. My summer art pursuits changed over the last three years.  If you aren't familiar with my new work you can read about my Compositions in Time here and here.

I lost most  of my salvaged wood  gathered over the last three years,  2 partially finished assemblages, encaustic medium, my lovely band saw and lots of small bits and bobs.  As a result the sum of my  assemblage creations this year was 2, one of which has smoke damage. That might not be so bad if I weren't getting ready for a group show in July and a  solo show September 2016.

Samples of past compositions  ( better composed  than photographed)

                  2014 (Private collection)                                   2013 (Private Collection)

2013 ( Private Collection)

 The pressure is on.

It's not like you can order my materials from a store.  I came upon them in dribs and drabs, and I was so proud of my collection of "specials",  the objects/woods that usually prompt a composition.   I loved them so much I had them standing along the work benches to ogle them.  Ah pride goeth before the fall.  These were the ones that were damaged beyond use with smoke and noxious gasses.   They're gone now, and with them all sorts of possibilities.  Interestingly, the insurance guy describes them as scraps of wood with no monetary value.   Really?

 Up to this point all my wood came from the  areas around my summer house on the Bonavista Peninsula.  I liked the colour consistency that automatically happens when you are working with a palette limited by location.  Some of the work was obviously sourced from outside buildings as the third one above and others were woods used  inside. It's clear that the wood controls the composition and the feel of each piece.

 September: Begin chapter 2

Friends have taken up the cause and are bringing me any salvaged wood they find.  My criteria of must be worn and have paint on it is seems to make it easy to find these gems.  If it has bits of wallpaper even better.

 An artist friend began my new collection after hearing about our plight.  I now have a new colour and the compositions will be from the Avalon peninsula,  specifically  Bay Roberts.  Thanks Peter!

 I've collected some new wood myself while walking.   I'm getting calls from other friends who have things for me.

 My husband is getting worried because all of this is ending up in our small workshop in St.  John's, his domain, not a shared one.   I am not allowed to take over, and I have to store the wood in my studio.  The ground rules have been laid.  Many I not end up consumed by creativity and forget my place!

For the first time in a month I feel optimistic.

Compositions in time

I've titled my new assemblage series from reclaimed materials Compositions in time to describe their content, the media used, and my process in creating them.

They begin with beachcombing on the Bonavista Peninsula, NL or from materials collected by friends who have taken  an interest in my process.

The majority of wood and all my "attachments" are old.  They had a previous history that I can only guess at when I look at the information contained in stains, scratches, peeling paint and shapes.  The paint colours too help me understand what their previous life was because there is a history of favoured paint colours for houses and sheds in the communities surrounding my summer place.

These structures have been torn down, fallen down or blown out to sea.  Then I find them from my various sources, bring them to the workshop to dry, spray them against mould (antifungal spray) and bugs (solution of bleach and water). Sometimes I have them for a year or two before they speak to me.  I know that sounds hokey, but it's true.  Each work starts with one inspiration piece, and then I am off with my sorting and resorting of materials.  I'm continually going back to my stacks in this process. There is a rhythm to the process of creating, and to the structures that I develop for each piece.  I am not in the least musical, but I see these as  regulated compositions with variations.

The band saw, PL Premium adhesive, and my husband's workshop have become by best friends.

Composition in Time R#3 (2014) 20 x 44 in. Margaret Ryall (Private Collection)

The lovely purple boards came from Bonnie, a local  Duntara lady who provides me with such interesting bits and pieces of wood.  I was so excited when I saw my favourite colour, I couldn't wait to get it home.  Luckily I didn't have to wait too long for them to dry out because  July was a hot month for us.

The wallpaper remnants in this work came from a renovation in Dunfield, NL.  They were peeled off and reapplied to board using acrylic gel.  The part of an old iron headboard came from a friend as did the three roofing nails and heads.  Thanks Helen and Ken. Too many connections so....

 This piece rests proudly over the sofa in my summer house studio.  It is mine! I know! I can't keep them all. But so far I have claimed 4 that I can't part with.  My husband tilts his head,  looks around, and says nothing.

A summer's work

  Over the last two summers I have devoted my time and creative energies to installations from reclaimed wood and other found materials.  I wrote about my initial interest here and posed the question... Is this art?  I've decided it is.

This summer I realized that I was compartmentalizing  my art making by location.  I paint in  the city (St. John's, NL) and I create installations at my summer home in Duntara.  It makes perfect sense really.  My head is in a totally different place in the summertime.  I spend my days looking at the ocean, prowling beaches, seeing the effects of the passage of time on buildings as they slowly sink to the ground or are blown into the ocean only to wash up in another location.  I watch summer people lovingly restore old homes that would otherwise have fallen into disrepair.  How can I not make work that references my most immediate  summer life?   Added to that is the practicality of not having to drag all my painting supplies and supports  back and forth.

Composition in Time #2, 18 x 28 in., Margaret Ryall, 2013 (Private Collection)

Thanks Carol Bajen-Gahm for loving #2 and giving it a home where I can visit it whenever I want!

This piece created last year, is totally composed of beach finds that were cut and composed (no additional colours are added. The bandsaw and PL Premium adhesive have become my new best friends.  These constructions are heavy and my regular adhesives just didn't do the job.

 I never set out with a preconceived notion for a composition;  I determine its size based on my inspiration piece/object.  In this work it was the worm eaten red piece of plywood.  The curves are a natural extension of this choice with the driftwood replicating the rounded lines.   The nails and roofing materials came from another piece of wood and were added strategically.  The yellow clapboard is a constant colour for houses on the  Bonavista peninsula and the red  is the preferred colour for sheds.  These colours creep into many of the compositions and bring consistency to the body of work without  much thought on my part.  A palette controlled by the foibles of nature, people and location is  a narrow one.  Lots of variables doing  their own thing removes a great deal of decision making for this overthinking artist.

 It was a fruitful summer.  I created 14 assemblages varying in size from 16 x 16 to 36 x 36 to add to the 4 I created the year before.  I sold three of them (always a bonus), received a request to show three  more in a group show in 2016, and organized a venue for a solo show that same year.

Yes, things are moving along nicely and now that my summer fun is behind me, I am looking forward to starting back to work at my White series.  Stay tuned for much more art blogging this year.  I'm excited and back on track.

And yes, I have to stop taking photos of art work with my iPhone, and yes I am getting a new camera and a tripod!