Art Journal entry: Transformations...

Art Journal entry. Collage, acrylic and water soluble crayon. 

Art Journals can be a weird thing... the point is to work intuitively, and what comes out is supposed to tell you something about yourself, right? Like art therapy. Years ago, I took a class at a local college called "Experiential Art", and the instructor was a certified art therapist. It was an interesting experience, even if I couldn't quite let myself just create. My brian stepped in and put a halt to whatever might have been trying to come out... or maybe it was the 3 years of having the "rules" drilled into me I just couldn't create without thinking composition, or focal point. As I was told... a few times... I just needed to relinquish control. But I couldn't do it.

One of the masks at
the McMichael exhibit.

Fast forward 15 years, and here I am again... trying to just let things happen. It's better than it used to be. My collage is random, my colour choices are intuitive, my drawing without any kind of plan. I pick a subject out of thin air, and get to work.

This journal started life as a children's book. It was called "Where's Spot?", and each page had an illustration of a puppy hiding somewhere in a room. This page said "Is he in the piano?" You can still see the copy showing through a bit in the top left. The collage was bits of newspaper text, and some headline copy reading DON'T HIDE. When I went back to the page a week or so later, I drew the mask on the page without any real attention to what was already there. I just got to work.

I was recently at an exhibit of First Nations art at a local gallery. I was completely captivated by the masks. Lucky for me, I was allowed to take photos. I'm sure I'll be using them as inspiration for years. Anyway... there was a docent at the gallery with whom I had a long conversation about the symbolic significance of the masks to the indigenous people. I have been thinking about masks as a way of hiding oneself from the world, but they saw their masks as something different... a symbol of transformation.

If I look at my page in this light, I see something completely different. I guess it's my subconscious telling me to stop hiding and step into the light... life is changing but it's not bad, it's just different. It's my time for transformation.

I guess I finally managed to relinquish control. Wonder if I'll be able to do it again.

Abstract Painting: Brave Spirit, Standing Strong

"Brave Spirit, Standing Strong", 12x12 mixed media on Canvas. Available.

At the beginning of January, I had an idea of how many pieces I wanted to get done before Arts on the Credit in April. Since it's the only art fair I've committed to this year, I wanted to make sure I had a reasonable number of new paintings to show. I had decided after last year's show not to take the musician pieces with me, no matter how many I still had left in my inventory. I may still show them around here and there, but since my abstract work has been my focus over the past year, I really wanted to have enough of those pieces to fill my booth.

I've managed to complete a fair number of pieces, even though I've had to push myself into the studio. Winter is always tough for me, but this year, even with the mild weather, it has felt monumentally dreary. I suppose having people around me dying in quick succession hasn't helped. I just get to the point where I'm coping with my emotions, and there's another one. I suppose that's the curse of getting older... at some point you get to an age where there are more funerals than weddings. I suppose it beats the alternative (ie: one of those funerals being your own). 

Anyway, painting helps me cope, so I push myself to get started, and before I know it I'm in the zone, feeling the tension leave my body and my mind focus in on what I'm doing. It's better therapy than anything else I've tried, and absolutely a better option for me than medication. I'm still thinking Warrior, and am going to continue working with that idea. That's the wonderful thing about working in a series... one idea will spring from the one before, and you just carry on from piece to piece, trying to make each one better than it's predecessor. I may not have time to get to another piece before spring (I've got a few at the "almost done" point I really want to finish), but I did manage to complete this little series. Three is a good number. Maybe I'll have a chance to finish up another of the ones I've got going, but even if I don't, I feel confident my booth will look pretty good. At least I won't have to panic. 

The Warrior Series. 12x12" each. All available.

Abstract Painting: The Warrior's Dance

"The Warrior's Dance", 12x12" mixed media on canvas. Available. 

My husband was, at one time, really into karate. He kinda still is, but he doesn't do it anymore... he got to a fairly high level, then decided to move on to other things. We still watch martial arts movies on occasion, and when the fight scenes come on, I get to watch them a few times. 

We recently watched the Netflix series "Marco Polo". Seen it? Its a pretty good story, actually, so I didn't mind watching... and the sets, costumes, landscapes, etc. were visually very interesting. Of course, what caught hubby's attention was the choreography. There is one character in the story that is a blind monk. And a total badass. He is the kung-fu warrior. Pretty amazing to watch, even on my TV. Can't imagine watching someone who can move like that up close and in person (it would probably freak me out actually... I remember when hubs went for his black belt exam I sat through most of the grading with my hands over my eyes, cringing every time there was contact. And with this there was maybe just a wee bit of computer enhancement. Maybe). Since I had access to a big screen TV, I put on the scene I wanted to follow, got out my canvas and water-soluble crayon, and proceeded to draw the Warrior's Dance. 

Finding inspiration from a Netflix series is probably something I shouldn't admit to. In fine art circles, there is a bit of a high brow attitude toward the meanings and themes in an artist's works. But I really do believe you can find inspiration in anything. Even if you have the most boring life in the world, there will always be something... the way the afternoon light hits a leaf in your garden, the way your mother laughs, your dog's dirty paw print on the kitchen floor... Anything can be the spark that sends you off in a new direction. 

I'm not done with this... I really like the scenes of the army with their shields and swords, and the way their robes fly when they fight. I will probably work that into a couple paintings... and I've still got the books I picked up at the ROM's exhibit of the Chinese terracotta army from a few years back that might inspire something. It will evolve and change as I go along. As it always does. 

The SideKick

Another Mask... Acrylic paint, paint pen, collage and water soluble crayon in a recycled children's board book.

A couple months ago I came across a new term in one of the art journaling groups I belong to on Facebook. Someone posted something from their "sidekick" journal. I had never heard this before... but since then it has come up again and again.

I have never taken a class on the "proper" way to make an art journal. I got a book out of the library, I watched a couple videos online, I was lucky enough to win one of Orly Avineri's books in an online contest. I figured hell, it's a journal... how can I do it wrong? The thing with that kind of approach is that you sometimes miss enough you feel like everyone else is in on some secret that has completely eluded you. That's how it was with this whole sidekick thing... though it didn't take me long to figure it out. It's pretty much just what you think it would be: another journal, used as a kind of assistant to the main one.

How I usually work is like this: I have a canvas on my easel. Sometimes two, depending on the size. That is what I am working on at the moment. I usually have another painting or two on the go, so when I get stuck I just move on to something else. My art journal and a few sheets of primed paper are on my work table, along with my drawing tools, my sketchbook, and my brushes. I usually work on something small as a warm-up or if I don't have a lot of time. If I need to work in my journal (to help my mood or state of mind), that usually happens before I get into the bigger stuff. That's something I seem to have been subconsciously avoiding since my father died. I'm trying to make more of an effort because I know it's helpful. I have a shelf full of little books that I work in... one pile has completed books, one pile books I intend to use but haven't, and usually a few that are in progress. I have my "found poetry" book, which has maybe 3 blank spreads, a book made of watercolour paper that has only one spread done but which I had no particular theme in mind, my bird book which is full but needs a cover, and this one that I started and abandoned last year. I have no idea which is my main journal and which is my sidekick.

Maybe my journaling process as a whole is a sidekick. An assistant to my painting in general. That's kind of how I go about it, actually. I go to the journals when I don't know what to paint, or when I don't feel I'm in the right state of mind to work on what I've got going. When I'm in between projects my books get a lot of attention... I work intuitively until I stumble on something I want to pursue. Last year I did an entire book on the theme of grids, just because I wanted to work in a compositional format I didn't really understand. I don't know if that is supposed to be the purpose of an art journal... so maybe what I do isn't really art journaling. I use text, but not the way most people do. I don't write out quotes, or inspirational thoughts... or even leave the text as readable. I scrawl out my thoughts about the subject over my background, then cover it up with my imagery. I don't want to reread it... and I most certainly don't want anyone else reading it. I just put it there so it's clear in my mind what I'm thinking.

Whatever it is I am doing, I intend to keep doing it. It's good for me to have a place to work on stuff that is just for me... work I have no intention of showing or selling. Maybe I will have an open studio at some point, and I'll put my completed books out for people to peruse, just so those interested can have an idea of how I get to my finished paintings. Or maybe not. That's one decision I can avoid making... at least for now.

New Abstract Painting: Enter the Warrior

"Enter the Warrior", 12x12" mixed media on canvas. Available.

Abstract work is interesting. I usually start with some kind of idea... these pieces I've generally gotten my basic shapes down by drawing a person (or animal) in motion. Occasionally, while I'm working, I see something emerge from the shapes. Its a recognizable thing... I've seen landscapes, people, trees, fruit... usually I turn the piece and add something so whatever it is is obliterated. I don't want that "thing" there. It's supposed to be non-objective... an object throws me off.

I was almost done this piece when I saw the bird. I really don't know how I missed it... I guess I was in some kind of altered state as I was working. I get like that... just kind of in the zone. I've had my son come into my studio to ask me a question, and had to ask me 3 times just to get me to acknowledge he's there. It doesn't always go like that, but when it does the result is usually much better than when it doesn't. Anyway, I decided the bird was going to stay, and I'd hang the piece in a direction where the bird was obvious. I like it there, even if it does look like it is encased in some kind of metallic copper armour.

And I was happy that my metallic copper actually looks like metallic copper. Note to self: take photos of metallic pieces outside in the sun.

I've been working in grey for what seems like months. Piece after piece... grey, grey and more grey. Not a bad thing, but when I look at my last few months of work lined up, it's seeming a little dreary. I deliberately tried to steer away with this one, thinking maybe brightening up my palette may brighten up my mood. Not sure it worked, but I like the earthy feel of this piece. I have another two started using the same palette. I'm working on them in between a much larger diptych that is... well... grey. Maybe by the time I'm done all five my life be looking a little brighter.

Art Journal: The Mask We Hide Behind

My latest art journal: an 8 page book, hand made from cold-press watercolour paper. Acrylic paint, paint pen, collage,
and water soluble crayons.

Last week a friend and co-worker died suddenly. The news was greeted with complete disbelief. Everyone at work walked around in a daze. He was here, and then he was not. Just like that. I had known this man for about 12 years. Maybe longer... hard to remember exactly after so long. But at the moment, with the events surrounding his death, I'm pretty sure I didn't know him well at all.

All this got me thinking about how we hide parts of ourselves from the people around us. I remember someone once telling me they loved working with me because I was so easy going. Uh... what??? Easy going is one thing I am not. Just ask my husband. Or my mom. But in that environment, with those people, it made more sense to be the easy going worker bee that did whatever was asked. I didn't even think about it. I just did it. Now there is the whole social media thing... who posts stuff about how much they hate their job, or the bad hair cut, or the $50 they wasted on something that didn't turn out to be quite as advertised? No one, that's who. It's all a performance aimed at making us look good in the eyes of others. It's a mask. One that only comes off in private.

Masks have always held some kind of strange fascination for me. I love going to the museum and looking at old, carved wooden masks from all over the world. I even have a couple in my home bought from a local carver. I have a pinterest board devoted to them. I've read books about native folklore and the reasons for the various ceremonial masks. It's fascinating.  I was thinking of starting a series of small portraits of my various coworkers (I work at a large company... I wouldn't run out of subjects for a very long time), but now I'm wondering if I can somehow combine that with my love of masks? Don't know, but I may do a few more of these in my journal... just to see.

New Painting: She Who Danced Us Into Being

"She Who Danced Us Into Being", 16x20" mixed media on canvas. Available.

I've been talking to my mom a lot lately. She lives pretty far away in rural, isolated area, and I have to admit I get a bit concerned about her out there on her own, especially since winter seems to have finally set in. So I call often, just to check in and see how she's doing.

On the other end, my son was off school so has been home a lot lately... we've had an never-ending stream of creative, talented kids through the house in the last few weeks... mainly because we have a somewhat soundproofed room in the basement where they can play their instruments without driving the entire neighbourhood nuts.

From time to time I think about my son and how my creative pursuits have influenced how he sees his own. He knows things don't just happen... you have to work at something to be good at it, and you have to get out there and share what you do if you want to have any kind of creative based career. I've been working my side job for most of his life. It's something that is important to me, so I guard my time in the studio. I have to work to be happy. Or even resemble pleasant. This has obviously influenced his attitude toward his own creativity. During the time he was studying for his exams, I heard him playing his guitar. When something unpleasant happens, he heads for the drum kit and works out his frustrations there. In turn he influences me to get into the studio and work out my own issues. It works. For both of us.

The mother-child relationship seems to be a kind of dance... I need to be protective but I don't want to smother, I want to know what he's doing but don't want to pry, I want to help, but recognize he needs to learn on his own. I have a new appreciation of my own mother these days. She did it, not just with one child but with four. How could anyone balance 4 kid's needs and still deal with their own? It must have been incredibly difficult. She sacrificed, she did the dance. And we all turned out to be decent human beings, so she must have done a pretty good job.

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