On Role Models, International Women’s Day and Georgia O’Keefe

I always knew I wanted to be an artist.

Sure, if you look back at my early college transcripts you’ll see my major listed as “biology”, then “journalism”, then “anthropology”, then “education” -- and it would be obvious I was floundering. I was looking for a place to land and exist, while attempting to find the art practice that would carry me to where I wanted to be.

I remember the first time it hit me as more than a knee-jerk reaction to that question all adults ask anyone elbow height. (No shame, I’ve started asking kids what they want to be when they grow up too...) I was in the Georgia O’Keefe museum in Santa Fe with my family, right after my freshmen year of college. I was standing in the main room, taking it all in when my dad suggested I purchase I sketchbook from the museum shop. I know it’s cliche, but that was a lightening bolt for me. I had always been accustomed to telling people I wanted to be an artist, and equally accustomed to their resulting chuckle because I was *always* drawing and painting -- but this was the first time I really, truthfully knew it for myself. I would purchase a sketchbook, because this meant something to me, something slid into place, a puzzle got the final piece.

I told my parents the next day expecting a kindly worded admonition; the “artists can’t support themselves” talk - but it went more along the lines of, “ Good. Finally. We knew it, now stop changing majors.”

And though there were a lot of other factors leading into that moment at the museum in Santa Fe, just being there in the presence of art from a woman was an absolute tipping point.

Growing up most of the art I was exposed to came from men. The major exhibits I saw, all from men. The books, papers, and studies I read were by and large from men and about men. And I had a really hard time inserting myself into that narrative; into how this could possibly play out for me. Granted that probably says a bit about the limitations of my imagination, but that is what was so supremely moving about my experience in the Georgia O’Keefe museum. It was all her. This whole building was hers. She wasn’t a traveling exhibit, she wasn’t sidenote in the alcove, or an afterthought in a paragraph. The sketchbook I purchased in the giftshop? Had her name embossed in the back. And right at that moment I knew I could try to make this work for me - provided I worked really hard at it.

And though this is just a snippet of an anecdotal moment, it does speak to a larger quandry found in not only the art world, but the world as a whole.

Role models are everything.

Having someone we can identify with, doing the thing we want to do is so incredibly powerful. Not to provide a template, or a way to reproduce their success, but as a subtle nod - that silent encouragement; “I did it, so can you.”

Today is International Women’s Day and I am grateful for all the strong, resilient women I’ve known and admired throughout my life. I’d encourage you to consider where you are in the world and who might look up to you; we all could use a little inspiration, a little nudge of hope and you just might be someone’s Georgia O’Keefe.

Process :: Wafian

'Wafian' has been in flux for a few days. (Which is where it gets it's name):

Wafian : From Proto-Germanic *wabōną, *wabjaną ‎(“to wander, sway”), from Proto-Indo-European *webʰ- ‎(“to move to and fro, wander”).

It began as most of pieces usually do; a meditation on the colors and rhythms of my surroundings. The frozen pond in the backyard, the layers of slush along the roadside, the ice on the tree branches. And as my work usually does, it dictated it's own way from there.

I am finding myself especially drawn to the patterns in the melting snow, the way it breaks over logs and disappears into puddles. These forms have began to sneak into my work.

I began to consider the white space, originally borne out of snowy inspiration. Most of my work utilizes the negative space in a balancing act with the paint, but it is usually white, or raw canvas. I've done one or two pieces in recent memory that fill the page, but in general I like to use the white space as a way to emphasize what is happening in the rest of the work.

And an old bottle of ink was calling to me, so I answered.

I'll add one more coat of the ink to the areas of the canvas where the strokes are visible, but I am intrigued by what has already happened to the balance of the piece.

Experimental painting days are the best.

 

Email List is up!

Almost a year in the making, the EH Sherman Insider List is finally here. If you haven't signed up, now is a great time --- I'll be hosting a giveaway next week for subscribers ONLY.

'Winter's Walk' is the first painting I completed upon our move from Miami to Michigan. It was inspired by muddy boots, iced over ponds and the silence of snowfalls.

To be eligible to receive the painting simply sign up for the Insider List (a friendly name I've given to my newsletter) and you're set - you'll be entered into the drawing. 

The giveaway is scheduled for next Wednesday (Jan 25th) so make sure to subscribe before then. In addition to this particular event, those subscribed will be the first to hear about new pieces, shows and sales!

Subscribe below - and good luck! <3

A Warm (though rather chilly) Welcome to Michigan <3

For me, so much of living in Michigan is about the visuals.

The wide expanse of ochre farmland against a metal gray sky, the lace formed by iced-over branches, the deep emerald of frozen lakes. It may be really, really cold - but I am so glad that we moved to this state in the winter.

I feel like the cold encourages a different type of work from me; smaller, cozier images have started to emerge in my sketches. Moments of stillness. Perhaps that is the change of surroundings, the influence of the silence found in falling snow. Or perhaps my hands are just too cold to move any faster.

I did finally get a space heater, so the following weeks should be much more comfortable.

I’m just so grateful to be finally done with the whole “moving” thing. Living in such a transitory state while trying to get work done wasn’t easy, and I cannot overstate how thrilled I am to be back in my studio. In the coming weeks I’ll have more info on a little digital studio tour, I can’t wait to share my space with you all. 

Hope the new year is off to great start for everyone!

<3 <3

Experiments in Fragmentation

Most paintings survived the move... some did not. Rather than trashing the whole piece, I decided to score the paper and play with the resulting fragments. The first pull was a little odd in that I was effectively ruining a painting I had liked (but was irreparably damaged in the move)... but after that I embraced the destruction whole-heartedly.

There is something really freeing about trashing a piece of work, and something really beautiful about the fragments that remain.

I'll be back with more info on the new studio/store openings, for now, I'm off to rip more paper.