EH Sherman Art - Abroad!
At this time tomorrow, we'll be in Miami.
My shops have been put on "hiatus", bags are packed, electronics are charging and I am sitting here at my desk with a tiny glass of Schramms blackberry mead, (another lovely perk about living in Michigan!) thinking about the journey ahead.
I've written before about how much of my work is based off my actual, physical local - and how near and dear to my process adventure and exploration are. The same way I try to 'look differently' at my surroundings to 'paint differently', seeing something new invariably leads to painting something new. Getting out there is just part and parcel of what my work is about.
And boy, has it been awhile since we've been out there.
We're headed to Miami to reconnect with friends and family for a bit, then off to Copenhagen for a few days, then a road trip around Ireland with my husband's parents. ((If you have any suggestions of where to go while at any of these places, please let me know in comments!)) I've packed my clothes; I'm pretty good at picking a small capsule type wardrobe for trips - I usually only take a backpack so literally every piece of clothing I bring goes with at least 3 other things, and I'm finishing packing up my art supplies.
I'm just now realizing that my supplies take up more room than my clothing does... but we'll have access to laundry, so I'll be fine. Lol.
I usually get a lot of questions about what I take when I make work while traveling - and for this trip especially, I'll absolutely be working from the road - so here's a quick rundown of what I'm bringing.
1.) 5 sheets of 20 x 30 Arches paper. It can be a bit expensive, but I usually cut each piece down into a few smaller pieces which offsets the price a bit.
2.) Tube-folio. I picked one that would fit inside my backpack, after a horrid experience leaving one behind in Berlin (FULL of work...)
3.) Fredrix watercolor canvas sheets. These are so much fun. 9 x 12, great for accepting watercolors, liquid acrylics, all sorts of watermedia. Nice and travel sized too.
4.) Golden liquids; white and indigo. If I'm packing only carry-on as we sometimes do, I'll find an artstore in the vicinity of where we are staying that carries these. They are integral to my work and if I can't fly with them, I'll get them on location.
5.) Daniel Smith Gouache; white and naples yellow. These tubes go everywhere with me.
6.) Golden fluid; bone black and paynes gray. Small enough that I can bring these in my carry-on.
7.) Strathmore Watercolor sketchbook.
8.) Old paint towel.
9.) Fredrix Nature Core canvas boards. These things are awesome. Paints like a canvas, but lighter and a bit more durable in transport.
10.) Notebook.
11.) Assorted Brushes.
13.) Daniel Smith Watercolor sticks. I'll paint directly from the sticks, or chop off a bit and dissolve it in water for a nice wash. In their dry state they don't harm the carry-on rule either :)
13.) TAPE.
14.) Instax camera. I use this to see things a bit differently sometimes. Finished pieces, landscapes, people... the film changes an image in a way that affects how I process it. I also like to have physical pictures from our travels :)
What about you? Anything you can't leave behind? It would be fun to make some sort of masterlist, with a ton of artist contributors!
I'll check back in when we arrive in Copenhagen! On to Adventure!
Small Moments of Great Vulnerability - Book Creation with Blurb
**Huge thanks to Blurb for sponsoring this post, I’ve finally been able to give life to this project!**
One of my favorite parts about working intuitively, about letting the paint ‘take over’ is examining the small, unplanned moments. The blooms that invade the white space, the overlapping transparencies of pigments, the rhythm between forms. The moments that I guided into existence, but ultimately chose their own path.
I photographed a lot of these magical spaces, presenting my work through a slightly changed, slightly more personal lens, but hadn’t yet found the right medium to use to share them.
I wanted these moments to exist alone, taken out of the context of a painting.
So I decided to make a book.
When Blurb approached me about creating a book using their services, I was already in the brainstorming phase, storyboarding out the flow and wordings of such a project.
It was meant to be. Now I just needed to find more images!
I scoured through my work searching for more moments that resonated within me. Old paintings, new paintings, paintings that were still drying and sketchbooks from various stages of my career. I was seeking shards of memories, voices, landscapes -- anything that echoed in my heart, that called to exist on it’s own.
Presenting a piece as a whole allows for a bit of barrier between myself and what the viewer sees. A lot of my work is like looking at clouds; everyone sees something different - but committing to picking the pieces that stir me was sort of a soul-baring exercise.
When I’m working I usually keep my little black notebook somewhere within arms reach. Just as forms and tones call out to be used, so do words and phrases; most of the names of my paintings are born of those little mid-painting ideas. The words influence the painting and the painting influences the words. Using pieces of these written ideas I built up the flow of my book, planning the transitions around the words, letting the captured stream of consciousness dictate the course.
Once I had my images and the words, I began to lay out my book. Blurb has all sorts of free professional tools for the creation process, (Lightroom and InDesign plugins and modules too!) I chose to work with their downloadable program BookWright.
Using BookWright was a seamless experience. My main concern was that I would be able to rough draft the entire book out with placeholders before committing to the actual imagery I would be using. This would let me balance color and words, letting me play with the flow of the book as a whole. BookWright made this method of working easy, allowing me to throw the placeholders quickly into the layout and play with the rhythm of the images until I was happy with the design. The whole process was felt very natural and intuitive. Much like an extension of the way I paint.
It took me a little while to decide on the size of the book, each of the form factors provided by Blurb seemed like it would be a good fit. In the end, I chose the Large Landscape (13 x 11) to attempt to give the detail images of the paintings as much space as I could. I also added a dust jacket, where I will explain the goals of the book. Every stage of the creation has been so exciting - I’m so happy to finally have an easy to use outlet for these ideas.
When I was studying art at Michigan State I spent much of my graphic design and book design classes experimenting with different paper types, learning the ins and outs of weight and rag, falling in love with quality paper. So when my Swatch Kit arrived (when you order one for $7.95, you’ll get a promo code that lets you apply the cost of the kit toward your book purchase) my nebulous little project started to feel real. I very much appreciated the quality of the paper stocks in the kit and ended up choosing the ProLine Pearl. Usually when reproducing work I use mattes, or watercolor papers - but the weight and the sheen of the sample sheet pulled me in. I want these small moments to stand apart from their wholes, and I felt the tonal range provided by the pearl paper would be perfect for this.
This project has been swirling in my mind for so long, I’m so excited to see how it will turn out. I’ve made plenty of hand-bound, hand-made books trying to get close to my vision for this, but each one has fallen short of my expectations. I’m so excited to turn it over to the professionals at Blurb and can’t wait to share the final result with you when it arrives!
After seeing how easy it was to create this book, I’m already starting to have swirlings of more ideas. I’m headed to Ireland next month, perhaps a collection of sketches from the road?
What about you? Have you ever made a book? Do you have a pet book project in mind? I’d love to read about your ideas!
A Day at the Eli and Edythe Broad Art Museum
I was fortunate to have a bit of a break mid-week and I took my chance to go see the Transported Man exhibit at Michigan State’s Broad Museum. I’ve only been to the museum on one other occasion since it’s opening in 2012 (and that visit was just a quick stopover before attending a graduation) so I was looking forward to spending a bit more exploring the museum.
The building was designed by Zaha Hadid and it is a serious sight to behold. Part of me is glad I graduated before this was built - I would have spent far too much time taking pictures of the angles and just staring at it. Probably one of my favorite buildings in existence.
But I didn't go to ogle the building (this time!) so I headed inside. The Transported Man exhibit was just incredible. So much so, that I didn’t take nearly the amount of as many pictures as I usually do - I was just too busy exploring the facets of the show. If you are in the area, seriously, go see it. I'm not even going to post the majority of the photos I took - it's something to be experienced in person.
I had planned to spend a bit of time at the end of the afternoon working a new project there in the cafe, but ended up taking a bit too long exploring museum. I was only able to get a bit of brainstorming done before heading out to dinner with a few local friends, but it was really nice to be in there and decompress for a bit.
Sitting there with my coconut-milk latte, sketchbook open to the page where I began brainstorming for a really exciting opportunity (can't share the deets yet -- soon!!!!), I tried to put myself back in those scuffed pumas I wore religiously, nearly 10 years ago.
I remembered the long walks from my apartment to the art building, the late nights spent in the ceramics studio, the sliding bookshelves at the library and how many papers I wrote nestled away in the silence of the upper floors with that computer that by today's standards is ANCIENT. I recalled the faces of friends and faculty, and felt the years of wonderful memories slowly returning.
But I also remembered the crushing anxiety. The heart-stopping worry of graduating and not being able to find a job (this is was 2008), and that assuming I could find employment, hoping for something even remotely related to my degree might be too far-fetched. I considered staying in school, finding an MFA program right away - but ultimately decided after graduation that I was ready to not be a student for a bit. And Florida was calling my name.
I will always look back on my time at MSU with extreme fondness and a great sense of thankfulness for my professors and mentors. Working on the start of this project, in the sanctity of this building was a very soul-cleansing moment for me. Everything turned out ok, everything was worth the hard work.
Awash in gratitude, I was late for dinner :)
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.