BLOG

Ooh! There’s a new film out that I can hardly wait to see. It’s called Who Does She Think She Is? and it’s about work/life balance told through the stories of five women artists. I just spent the last half hour browsing the film’s site & blog and came away feeling inspired but also struck as the filmmakers’ experience – early rejections from big festivals followed by exhilarating success with independent screenings – reminds me of my own with Sister Bee. I think there’s pent up demand for this type of filmmaking – films by and about women made for broad audiences – that just isn’t being met.

Thanks to Alyson Stanfield and her wonderful ArtBizBlog for the heads up.

Here’s an intriguing story about the beguines – a medieval order of Catholic Sisters that may have represented “the world’s oldest women’s movement.”

A choice quote:

Unlike sisterhoods that required a life spent apart from society under vows of chastity, these Catholic women looked for holiness outside monastic norms. Although they lived and prayed together within an enclave, partly as a form of mutual protection… beguines were not confined to the cloister. Many ministered to the poor and sick outside their walls. Lifelong celibacy was not required either. They could leave the order and marry (but not return).

“Holiness outside monastic norms…” I like that.

Honeybees love soapwort.

This sphinx moth does too!

I took these photos on Saturday – a perfect spring weekend day if I’ve ever seen one. This sphinx moth hung around for a full half hour sucking up soapwort nectar. (Check out that proboscis!) This was an unusual sight. They’re more commonly seen at dusk. It’s interesting to me how a bird (the hummingbird) and an insect (the sphinx moth) can share such similar forms.

A few years ago I attended an artist’s talk at a painting show in Boulder. The artist was from New York and he painted thoughtful interiors – people sitting at tables, a woman on a bed, looking out a window – that sort of thing. They reminded me of mid-century American short stories. I liked them very much. But it’s what the artist said that stuck with me. He said he used to be an abstract painter but that after awhile he felt like he was repeating himself, repeating the same gesture, so he moved toward realism to keep things fresh.

This is something I think of often, especially during transition times when I’m starting a new body of work (as I am now). It begs the question “what is abstraction?” Is it painting based on the real? Or the imagination? Is it gesture? Paintings about paint? Painting about emotions? Paintings about composition or pattern?

To me the word “abstract” represents a continuum of painting ranging from the purely abstract (paintings about paint) to paintings that appear abstract but are actually inspired by looking at real things. I enjoy painting from both ends of the spectrum but believe my strongest work comes after sustained periods of looking out at the word, not looking in.

Looking north. Working on a new series of paintings about tree roots, quilt patterns. mushroom cultivation, honeycomb, pollen collection, stained glass windows and worm farming too. Somehow they’re all connected. I’m thinking about growth. The geometry of growth and wondering how living things are formed.

I spent the afternoon in my studio where I’m working on a large painting inspired by a historical quilt pattern. When I got home I popped into my office to check news & email. Lo & behold! Look what I found! A wonderful story in the NYTimes about a group of artists in the 1970’s and 80’s who made paintings inspired by… patterns. This is art that’s new to me and it’s fun to see. I hope you enjoy it too.

For the quick & entertaining version click on the slide show within the article. There are a handful of beautiful images there plus some interesting thoughts about art movements. What’s an art movement and why doesn’t art happen that way (borne of collective thought) anymore?

Hello dear readers! Just a quick note to let you know I’m thinking of you. I spent the last month and half getting caught up on office biz, resting, celebrating and preparing for 2008. For me this means lots of READING (hence all the recent posts about the news). I look forward to expanding my scope in January once the busyness of Christmas and New Year’s settles down.

So stay tuned for… more images! More observations about honeybees; new information about a long-term project I’m bursting to share; general reflections on animal behavior, botanical art, filmmaking and encaustic painting. All coming in 2008.

Here’s something gripping. It’s an NPR story about an Australia based art collective called SymbioticA. They make art from living tissue. The image above is a replica of a human ear made out of human skin cells. Wow and gross and how’d they do that? I’m repulsed and intrigued.

Is this ethical? I don’t know. Lots of questions though… What value does a cell have when separated from its parent organism? Is a cell an individual being? Does a cell have feelings? Can it feel pain? Do we have the right to boss cells around this way? Or are we simply guiding them toward a new way of being?

There’s been much talk this week about the future of reading, its decline and the migration of the written word from printed books to the internet.

Fear not, dear readers! There are grains of hope for fine artists in these stories. It’s true, the internet is rapidly displacing books as the dominant receptacle for human ideas. But as it does books will blossom into handmade art objects as revered as paintings for their physical beauty.

Doubtful? Check this out… the recently renamed Maine Media Workshops just added a new program to their always relevant and evolving film and photography curriculum. Design and Book Arts. Hmm…

Check out these pumpkins. Aren’t they beautiful? I love looking at the green veins in the unripe one. They make me curious about how the pumpkin was made. And the universe too.

Here it is, dear readers “The Conversation.” This new encaustic painting is hanging at the Canyon Gallery in Boulder, Colorado at the Public Library as part of the Open Studios show.

When I started writing about painting titles my plan was to stop here with a story about “The Conversation.” But I’ve changed my mind. The power of abstract painting lies in its ability to inspire reverie, no? Which at its best is a highly personal, moving experience. I don’t want to pull you out of your own experience of this painting by saddling you with mine. So I’ll limit myself to sharing some background info. Stop reading here if you don’t want to know.

Painting titles usually pop unbidden while the painting’s being made, or soon after. This one was different. I felt stumped. I went back to the source for ideas – a memory of an afternoon spent photographing teasels. Gorgeous, spiny, weedy things. Teasel ideas started flowing. But nothing with the world teasel in it would do. Too literal. Too weasly.

But then something happened. I noticed I felt an emotional charge when I looked at the painting. This doesn’t happen equally for all paintings. And it’s a wonderful thing when it does. The charge had something to do with nostalgia. The process of forgetting and remembering again in a bittersweet way. Something about homesickness. And autumn too. I wanted a title that could hold all these ideas while still being specific. Titles based on the words nostalgia, remembering and forgetting felt too passive. I needed a story. Desperately. Back to the painting for more thinking. Stories arose (insert yours here). When I tripped on “The Conversation” it jangled. The choice was clear. Hope you like it too.

Here’s something interesting… It’s a string of art titles. I pulled them off the price list for the Open Studios show hanging at the Canyon Gallery in the Boulder, Colorado Public Library through October 14th. It’s a thought snapshot. An abbreviated peek into what a cross-section of Boulder’s artists are contemplating these days. Notice any trends? Curiosities? Sleeping potions? Can you guess which one’s mine?

San Michelle: A Place for the Soul; Princess Lollipops Teapot; Natural Fibers #1; Evening Light; Reversible Shadowboxes; Solomon Squared; Three Moons; Earth Wind Fire Fusion; Convalescent Rain; Illicit Poppy; 171; Siren’s Song; Midnight Flame; untitled; Toroweap Overlook, Just Above Lava Falls; Respite in the Garden; Sand Dunes; Lilies and Apricots – Full Bloom; Natsu, Upheaval Dome; Her Cousin; Kokoro (Spirit); Orchid Kimono; Study in Blue; Dreamscape: Land of Indian Blankets; Taos Bird Bush; Take a Gander; 16 Going on 17; Future Guacamole; Fish Jar; Tea Set; Raku Vase; Harvest; Portals of Peace-Matrix I; PP Revisited; The Grandmother; untitled; Construction Over Boulder; Buffaloes Grazing; Doubletwist; Challenge; Disco Dancer; Home Office – If the Client Only Knew; Red Scarf; Death in Our Forests; Alternate Paths to the Beginning; Psychedelic Mona Lisa; untitled from Caddo Lake; Zebra Finches; Walking Tea Set; Trust; Caribou Trai – The Aspen Gulley; Kohler Mesa; American Beauty; Dawn; Mystic Mark Series; Playing in Rainbows; Porcelain Teapot; Fading Summer; Dreamscape; Two Loops; Slotted Composition; Bend in the River; Rufina, Italy; Chautauqua Rhythms; Pelle Come Home; The Magic of Tango; Moody Chautauqua Morning; Hello Beautiful; Intervals I; Poseidon’s Treasure; Africa; Rainbow Tidepool; Spring Fling; She Who Watches Over the Hill of Slane; Tank 2; Inspiration of the Putti; Daydreamer; To Die For; I Wish to See Her Smile; Expanding Heaven; Bamboo and Poppies; RKS; VIEW (Visit Imagination Enchanted Wonderland); Fjordland in Orange; Phiale; Spanish Dancers; Ruby Fleur; Course; Dinner Set; Gaze Into Stargazer Lily; Lucha Libre; Lotus Flower Fountain; Cherry Blossoms; Sunset Maple; Monhegan Light House; Autumn Glow; Abstract #89; Sunburst; Passage; Indonesian Stella; Ring of Fire; Dining Table, 10 Chairs, Sideboard; Harvest Jug; Clouds at 2:54 p.m.; Wow!; Where Earth Meets Sky; Pitcher and Bowl; Solstice; One Summer Night; Practice, Practice, Practice; Brothers and Sisters; Neighborhood Place Setting; Vine Spiral; Crescent Phase; Thetis, Mermaid Goddess, Last Light; Sunrise Reflections; City Lights; Alaska on My Mind; Aspen Fire; Fandango; The Conversation; Ewer; Pine Cone Opus; Beach Baby; Mesa Verde Memory; Day Dreaming; Indian Peaks Sunrise; Breaking Trail; Spring Vines; Caramel Apple; Cherry Blossom Reflections; Calling Up the Morning; Vessel in black; Pablo’s Baby; Spooked; Under a Blue Cloud; Water/Foul

“Hello Beautiful.” Great name for a painting, eh? It’s by Sarah Kinn and it’s hanging at the Open Studios show at the Boulder Public Library through October 14th. I love this title so much I almost don’t care what the painting looks like. The fact that it’s lovely just lends bonus points.

I’ve spent a lot of time watching viewers interact with paintings at Open Studios and other shows. Titles are a huge deal, especially for abstract work. Viewers look to titles for clues about how to understand a painting, to make a connection, or to confirm thoughts they’ve already formed.

As far as I can tell, there are two kinds of titles for abstract paintings. Descriptive and evocative. Descriptive titles act as tags that describe the physical qualities of subject or paint. (”Blue Fern” comes to mind.) They can be strong. But they’re grounded. Grounding. Evocative titles (like “Hello Beautiful”) are more poetic and action or story oriented. I’ve used both. I still use both. But these days I’m loving the evocative. How about you?

Do you read the The Sun? This month’s issue (April 2007) features an interview with author John O’Donohue. I love what he has to say about wilderness:

“Sometimes you see a beautiful woman who quickens your heart. Then you meet her again years later and she’s become a domesticated relic of who she once was, and you think Where is the dangerous vision I saw in her? The same happens to men.

I think it is more interesting to be with somebody who still has his or her wilderness territory – and by that I don’t mean bleak, burned-out, damaged areas where wounding has occurred; rather I mean genuine wilderness.”

- John O’Donohue interviewed by Diane Covington in The Sun, April 2007

I’m wholly taken by this idea of wilderness as an inner, human state. But what’s he actually talking about? What’s “genuine wilderness” to a human? Aren’t humans, as social animals, domestic by definition? And why is wilderness desirable? Is he talking about sex? The forest? Danger? Mystery? Instinct? I’m not sure. Curious though.

Ooh, friends, I wish I had a picture for you. But your vivid imaginations will have to do. I just returned from another quickie trip to New York and here’s what I found… Kale gardens! Spectacular! They’re wee little gardens made of flowering kale and mossy bits accented with the occasional plastic flower or two. They thrive on street level windowsills and ledges, near where the garbage cans and recycling bins hang out. They have kind of a feral, aquarium-outside-your-apartment vibe. Charming. Wish you could see them in all their scraggly glory. Pictures next time. I promise!