Redefined

My life is just a little too exciting these days.  My mother is recovering from knee replacement surgery; we just heralded the arrival of our third  granddaughter; and, I'm packing works for my solo exhibition in Nova Scotia.  All of these events prompted me to think about how our lives are constantly being redefined by our life experiences.  Nothing ever stays the same and sometimes I wish it just would because change is difficult to accommodate when you are busy.

The focus of my newer Remnants paintings that I'm sending to the exhibition explore how time affects our perceptions  of events/objects related to them,  and how the objects themselves are redefined as time passes.  I've showed some of these paintings before but I'm reworking the ideas and compositions in several of them and I think the new attempts are much better than the first ones.  That is probably because I have a better feel for what I'm doing/saying in the work.  So the painting content and compositions are also being redefined!

Untitled  ( 2010) 16 x 16 in. Mixed media ( image transfers, acrylic paint, paper and mediums )

on canvas 

While I loved this work when I created it in 2010, the more I look at it the less successful it appears.  Now I see it as  a little static and contrived. Yes,  I did a great job of combining interior landscapes (wallpapers from old houses) with exterior ones (a family dory like the ones used in my childhood), but I am forcing the idea of landscape. It's difficult to decide if this is about the object (dory) or if is it about the landscape itself. There's also the female/male connections from my growing up.

  Redefined - Dory (2011) 16 x 16 in. Mixed media ( image transfers, acrylic paint, paper and mediums ) on canvas

This is one of the  new paintings included in the exhibition.   It is much more abstracted and collisional than the first one.  I love the parts that are totally abstract and the combination of real objects in decay within a dual environment -a collision of "male and female".  As usual my photography is lacking because it does not capture the layers of information that well.

If you have thoughts on these  two pieces and where I'm headed in my new work,  I'd love to hear them.

Now that's interesting

I'm still lost in the many worlds of wallpaper and working through the wrinkles in my latest series which isn't ready for public viewing yet. Many artists have used wallpaper in different ways in their work. When I start new work one of the first things I do is explore work is similar to what I'm producing. I always explore after my own idea is firmly entrenched to ensure I am keeping as true to my own vision as possible. I'm always awed by the versatility among the works created by artists that use similar motifs. Here are some of my new finds.

Michail Kalashnikov, 2009, 140 cm. x 100 cm.
Carlo Galfione

The human body is also the subject of artist oil painter Carlo Galfione's work, he uses wallpaper and fabrics as motifs to overlay on his subject's faces. He is fascinated by the stereotypes of the fashion system, the rituals, expectations and desires that surround this world. My take on his work is an exploration of the the outer face we all put on to fit in to our immediate world. Galfione calls it the "the habitat aesthetic" which best represents us. Adherence to fashion dictates moves an individual into a group membership . "His work represents a sampling of possible aesthetic approvals..."


Australian artist Emma Hack shies away from conventional painting supports and uses the human body as her canvas. The bodies she so intricately paints become part of the pattern she is using. See more of her work here .



And then there's Laura Splan who paints in blood in her Wallpaper/Samples. The blood follows the pattern in real wallpaper samples. Her work explores the "fluctuating experiences that an image can evoke". We are jarred by the opposition between a homey, familiar wallpaper pattern and the viseral material used to create the design.

Of course there are many more artists using wallpaper as an impetus for their work and future posts will examine their work. Can you add to my list?

Questions

I've begun a new body of work that combines wallpaper and landscape. I was going to post
two of these works but I've decided to wait awhile. I've made this decision because I don't want the work to be influenced by comments before I have decided if I am where I want to be with the series. I want to muddle my way through my doubts and questions for awhile yet. I like to keep my process and content true to my own voice. How about you?

Do you like to hold your new work close or do you show it to family and friends for reaction?

Do you think it is a good idea to put your new work (that might not be fully evolved) on your blog?

How influenced are you by the comments of others?

Here's a sneak peek at some of the images that influenced my new landscapes. It will get you thinking.

If I could go back

As I come to the end of my series "Reading a Garden" I've been thinking about my whole stay at Birr Castle Demesne which was that experience that prompted the creation of this blog. I wanted to publicly chart my progress as I created the series and to use my writing as an opportunity for personal reflection. As time went by other art work and interests began to creep into my posts. I'm now wondering how the blog will change as a result of this natural conclusion to two years of garden work. I'm at another pivotal point in my career as I wait for the next focus to overtake me. I have a feeling I am not finished with gardens yet.

The Bothy

Blogger Sherwood Harrington and fellow Bothy inhabitant, gets to visit the Demesne again this summer. He asked if I could go again what would I bring back. Now I'm thinking even harder. It's a case of now that I've done it, I know how to do it. I assume he doesn't mean a physical object!

There are many things I would change about how I absorbed the property from a personal and artistic viewpoint. Here goes in no particular order:


I missed the lilacs and poppies, both flowers I love; therefore, I would want to change the time of my visit to correspond to blooming times of my favourite plants . That would mean going before the end of June as I did.


I would document my time in the garden in more detail, especially my personal reflections about what I was feeling and observing. Since I've begun to work on the series I've had many moments of "I wish I had..."


While I took a lot of photographs, I would take different ones on another visit. One area of interest is close up views of textures which is where my new work seems to be headed. Surfaces of rocks, vines, flower petals, earth, moss - the overlooked and intricate.


I've also thought about all the secret spots there are in the garden. Those kinds of places that we would seek out as a child to hide in or place small treasures. I would like to have a photographic reference file for these "hidey holes".



The wildflower meadow was beautiful. On another trip I would hunt down a good wildflowers of Ireland reference book and become better acquainted with the names and descriptions of specific flowers. Comparisons with the flowers in the meadows around my summer house could lead to interesting combined works based on both places.

I would also spend time in the furthest outreaches of the Demesne. I think I missed quite a bit of the wilder side of the property.

One of the greatest aspects of my blogging world is the online friends I've made. I had no idea it would be this way when I made my first post.

Where am I?

I feel the menace of my solo show in May breathing down my back. Sometimes this is a good thing and sometimes it ties me in knots. Today I am in knots. I'm finally coming to the end of my very detailed visual slices of the garden which focus on an up-close view of many of the things that go unnoticed by visitors. I'll write more about how I came to choose this unusual format for my garden pieces nearer the completion of the work. But here's a little to move us along....

While the work looks extremely realistic it is not real. Each work is constructed from multiple views and angles of the same scene. These constructions are similar to the kind of collapsing that occurs with our memory of experiences as time adds her cloak. I plan to have 16 or 18 painting of this format depending on how severely I cull my work before the show. It's a good thing they are coming to an end because I don't normally work with this much detail and my neck is killing me.

These dainty little rock roses are exquisite with their centre sparkle. They are flowers that give their all and then quickly fizzle into a rain of petals. Their temporary nature appeals to me in the same way that the daylily plant does. They are reminders not to waste too many precious minutes of our lives. The abstracted, organic, root like background at the top references the cyclic nature of the plant kingdom. I don't have a title yet and I think I'm finished the painting.

The works in this series are more about pattern and less about highly realistic rendering. When you size them up closely, I've broken many rules. I'm struggling with providing enough information to form the plants and make them recognizable and realistic. I've constantly played with depth and scale, used limited shadows and take great liberties with point of view to create a more patterned effect.

A revealing space

I think the area where you produce artwork (or any kind of work for that matter) tells much about who you are as a person and creator and how you operate within the space. What a scary thought!

Recently I had a very helpful studio visit from an artist friend who has a knack of moving your thinking along without ever directly referencing any of your work. In the context of the discussion, she made several observations about my space. It was a little frightening for someone (me) who likes to think she is so self aware not to notice the obvious. Boy, do I not have it all figured out.

Yesterday, I documented my studio at this point in time. The last time I did this was five years ago and it is a totally different space now.

Welcome to my studio.

There are two entrances to my studio, this is the one from the outside. The space is roughly 14 x30 and was originally two rooms in our basement. The floors are cement painted a serviceable gray, therefore I don't have to worry about making a mess. This is the clean view. Note the beige vinyl to catch my drops of wax from encaustic.

To the right of the door is my paper storage cabinet and some of my books. I have extra chairs for my critique group. I've found great furniture at second hand stores and yest, I like Sunlight detergent! When it was in boxes they made great magazine or card storage.

My encaustic centre is next to my paper storage. My fan is out for repairs ; I would hate to leave the impression I didn't use one. I've covered part of the window with styrofoam to help the fan draw better. I still need another window open for fresh air. The cabinet to the left provides lots of storage and a place to lay out current work. Could my work get any smaller ? If I want to create a very large encaustic I am in big trouble. I'll face that when the time comes.

This is a newly rearranged space to allows me to work on larger pieces. The chair and the two storage bins can be moved away from the wall. My handy husband set up a system with a pipe at the top and a strip at the bottom with dowels that are movable. I hang the painting at the top over the pipe with two large c hooks that screw into the back of my panel. The dowels hold the board at a bit of an angle for better light. When I'm not working large (which is all the time), I use this space to hang ongoing work until it's completed. This is the brightest section of the room so it is an excellent space for critiquing work.

This is where I usually paint. The work is either on a table easel, on the table, in my hands or lap. I store my paints and other materials in the movable carts to the right. Scraps of papers for collage are in the plastic container to the left of the table. Beyond the table are a series of cabinets used for storage of work and this area is the right height to stand at to make image transfers, varnish, sort materials, and I also fuse my encaustics there. The work I have finished is hung in this area. I need more lights because this corner is very dark and certainly does nothing for viewing the completed work. I keep saying this but nobody is listening.

The long view I see when I come in every day. The other chair on this side is where my three year old granddaughter paints when she comes to visit. I made a little table for her but no go. She wants to paint just like Nana.

My great old chair where I read to my heart's delight. I'm presently reading "Rethinking Acrylics". The door behind the chair is the exit to upstairs and the way I enter the studio. You can also see the corner of my desk area.

My desk area, more books and lots of storage. All the drawer units came from a retrofit of dorms at the local university. My husband knows everyone and is always on the look out for a good deal. I always benefit.

More books, more paper storage and my table I use to roll out monotypes. Did I say more books? You can see my trusty 85 pound steel roller near the wall. My one easel ( portable for painting on location which I never do anymore) is in the corner. My sun hat never gets used much for painting these days. Next to the bookcase is a storage space under the stairs. I keep saying that shelves would really tidy up the space. No one is listening.

And here we are back to where we entered. If you turn right after you leave my studio you will be in my husband's workshop. Sometimes I go downstairs to paint and I find whatever project he's completed smack in the middle of my floor. That's another story.

I hope you enjoyed your visit. You now know a lot more about me, my personality and working style. Do tell.

Turning points

What a time for me to start questioning my creative path with a solo show looming in late May. It never fails! Solo shows seem to be a nudge to contemplate, to self- examine the worth of my work, to question why and how. Am I the only one who has created an elevated standard that I strive for? Unfortunately this standard doesn't have specific criteria, it's kind of amorphous, and, of course then you never know if you have reached it.

Yes, I'm in painting limbo, I'm floundering, I'm wallowing in an abyss. I doubt what I have created, I think I should create differently and question why I ever thought I wanted to do this thing called "art". Anyone who knows me well, will advise that I always come out the other end of this questioning period a stronger artist. The process will prompt new firsts- leaps in technique and understanding. I am trying to have faith as I'm questioning.


These works appear to be important to my future direction. I'm beginning to glimmers of why.

A Bridge to Cross
Encaustic mixed media
2009













It is Written
Encaustic mixed media
8 x 14 in.
2010













Displaced
Mixed media
2009
10 x 24

Wildflowers

Many artists were greatly influenced by the writings of British artist and philosopher John Ruskin who encouraged artists to paint "a wild , vigorous plant as it grows" rather than a bouquet of flowers in a glass which has been wrenched from it's surroundings and artificially assembled. He leaves us in little doubt about his beliefs in this quote:

"A flower garden is an ugly thing, even when best managed. It is an assemblage of unfortunate beings, pampered and bloated above their natural size, stewed and heated into diseased growth; corrupted by evil communication into inharmonious colors; torn from the soil which they loved, and of which they were the spirit and the glory, to glare away their term of tormented life among the mixed and incongruous essences of each other in earth that they know not, and in air that is poison to them."

Displaced painted in 2004 is a reaction to this quote. The text up the right side says "plucked from nurturing soil and forced to re-think the notion of home".

I don't think I ever looked at a cultivated garden the same way after reading this quote . It certainly impacted my perceptions of the gardens at Birr Castle.


An artist greatly influenced by Ruskin's writings was Henry Roderick Newman ( 1843- 1917) an American artist born in Easton , New York. He developed his love of nature during summers in Massachusetts and the Green Mountains in Vermont.

The delicate watercolour Wildflowers, 1887 is representative of Newman's work. I find similarities between my meadow paintings presented in the previous post and Newman's Wildflowers. Both have a myopic perspective that encourages the viewer to get down on all fours and observe the exquisite details of nature. There are no hints of a broader landscape, no sky, river, animals or people - only the close up world of perfection where every blade of grass, petal and leaf are equally important. I had forgotten about this painting since my first reading of Art in Bloom but when I encountered it again several day ago, I felt at home and comfortable in it.

I've been asked why my garden paintings are so detailed. There's nothing like a question to bring you up short. I had to think about this for awhile. First and foremost I respond to my instincts when I work on a new series. I just do it the way that seems right. Some aspects are thought out others just appear and are captured for future use. Giving myself permission to explore usually produces my best work.

I am only interested in the close up view of the garden. Rarely will you see me paint anything that resembles a vista. This is how I see the world. I take in minute details others would never notice. When you go close up to a scene everything takes on importance and vies for your attention. It is difficult to ignore any details or to establish what one thing is important. I've come to realize that I am more interested in the connections among the individual elements - the patterning of nature- which is so often replicated in produced designs .

At the same time I am playing with the viewer who thinks that the work is very realistic. It is realistic but the scenes themselves are not real. All of my compositions are produced from the the integration of various elements from different places that look similar. My use of photo transfer into gel skins that are collaged here and there around the painting surface (board) are then integrated fully into my painting. In other words, I start with the details of nature and then continue to paint and repaint my own memory of the scenes. The resulting work is a hybrid of realistic aspects and information filtered through memory. If I were not starting from a realistic reference point (bits and pieces of photo transfer) I would never achieve the amount of detail that appears in this work. Since I began to use photo transfer elements in my Remnants series, the inclusion of details in my work has increased significantly. Who knows where my next series will go!

I've regained my focus after a fall of mostly thinking and writing about art without actually completing any new work for my Reading a Garden series. Why this sudden change? I'm having a solo show of this series at the Leyton Gallery of Fine Art at the end of May, 2010. Deadlines are a great thing!

I need 20 paintings for the show in May. I have 14 almost completed. My problem is that the wildflower meadow, an important part of my experiences at Birr Castle Demesne, is now unrepresented in the series. Both wildflower meadow paintings from the garden series have sold.

The wildflower meadow was my personal link with the Demesne. It was the kind of garden I understood. After I came back from Ireland, I photographed the meadow around my summer house as a point of comparison (see previous post). I've decided to replace the

two meadow paintings with a new one created with reference material from my own wildflower meadow. This new piece will be a bridge from here to Ireland, from my earlier life to my stay at the Demesne. I understand meadows; they are not foreign, structured or inaccessible. Wildflowers are much the same everywhere.



Certainly meadows are not exactly new content for painters. It is the predictability of the imagery that I am attracted to. The first reproduction I ever purchased was Durer's Tall Grasses. The close up view was one I understood and was attracted to. I like the focused examination of things most people ignore. There is no doubt that this little work had a big impact on my later development as an artist.

How have other artists interpreted the meadow?

Meadow, oil on canvas, 74 x 80 in. Michael Brophy, 2007
G. Gibson Gallery


Summer Meadow, oil on canvas, 100 x 130 cm. Beth Wintgens
Carina Haslan Fine Art

Meadow, 2006, oil and gesso
Jo Miller

Meadow, 2008, 24 x 2o in. oil on canvas
Karina Drogowska

Meadow Walk, 11 x 14,
Donna Day Westerman

One subject, many interpretations.
What are your preferences?

Revealing

I'm head and eyes, or would that be limbs and trunk, into my photographs of trees. Sort and resort, sort by size, colour, texture, function, look for themes, look for opposites, find pairs. Peel back the layers of intuition.

Seek answers....

What attracted me to these images?
Was there underlying symbolism?
Was it an aesthetic attraction?
Does the scene have some emotional connection?

We have all kinds of words that refer to trees growing together in groups:

boscage, brake, chaparral, coppice, copse, covert, dingle, forest, grove, orchard, park, plantation, spinney, stand, thicket, woodland, woods .

It depends on where you live and how large the grouping of trees is. My photos tell me I'm not really interested in bunches of trees. I prefer those that are:

Solitary

alone

cloistered

unfrequented

desolate

remote

deserted

unattended

sequestered

lonely

I'm wondering....

Did I take these photos because ones eyes are automatically attracted to that which stands alone or is different from its surroundings? Or is it an emotional attraction to things that symbolize feelings? Or is it both or neither?