Little Nonsense Scrap Notes
Birdhouses. How many layers here? Quietness. Stillness. Where is that sound? Dangling a carrot. Chasing a carrot? This looks like mud. I love mud.
It sounds like nonsense. Most of the time it is nonsense. But out of the nonsense comes a deeper understanding of what I’m doing and the words to use to describe it to others. These are extracts from the note-scraps I keep next to my pieces as I work.
I keep these note-scraps next to pieces as I work on them; I put a little paint down, think of a concept, scribble it out. Put a little more paint down, see a figure emerge from the swirling pool, name her and write it down. Layer cut pieces of paper and see a canyon - write that down.
Little scribbly clues for later.
What results is a running ‘stream of consciousness’ that serve as titles, as notes for me to refer to when describing the piece, as a marker of time. They become an invaluable addendum to the finished piece.
I do these on scrap to keep them immediate, truthful and non-precious. If I feel like I need to censor what I write to keep it organized, or legible to someone else I’m not able to get the dialogue I need to find the name of the piece or get at the inner bits of the idea I’m digging into.
Once the piece is finished, a description is written and the title fits - these little scraps head to the second drawer of my flat file. I pull them out from time to time to see if any new inspiration strikes, or if there’s an idea I wrote down that I haven’t explored yet - but for the most part their job is done.
Group Show in NYC!
New York friends!
I’ve got two pieces on view (Forte and Motion Study Brushwork 1) during this group show in the Flatiron district in New York. The theme of the show is pure abstraction - and I am SO honored to be among the artists in this collection.
The opening night is March 17th at The Yard North. I was hoping to be able to get out there for what will be a fantastic party, but just wasn’t able to make it happen unfortunately.
Can’t make it out for the opening either? The show is up until July!
Upcoming Show: The Other Art Fair Chicago!
I’m thrilled to announce I’ve been accepted into the 2023 Chicago line up for The Other Art Fair.
I’ll be showing several new collections in my booth (number to be announced soon) and *hopefully* the start/proof of concept for a new project I’m very excited about. The new project requires the use of a saber saw. I am so pumped.
As always I’ll document the process over on instagram, but I may send out some more thorough examinations of the work via my email list, so make sure you’re subscribed here.
More details/ticket discounts to follow!
Notes from 1 full year in this studio
I’ve officially passed the one year mark at the new studio! (I guess it’s time to drop the ‘new’?)
I’ve already rearranged once, (twice if you count moving the fridge, which I’m inclined to do because of how heavy it was…) We’ve added two relatively major features; new lighting and new moving walls, and I’m about 1/5th of the way through painting the floor.
I think I’ve found my groove in this space. And Chewy has definitely found his favorite nap areas.
In thinking about the past year (taxes will do that to a person) I thought I’d compile a list of a few notes that have occurred to me since that first day painting at Studio 133.
As much as I love the studio, I NEED TO LEAVE IT OCCASIONALLY AND TALK TO HUMANS. I have to remind myself that a lot of being an artist happens *outside* the studio. It’s talking to other artists, seeing shows, being a human adult in the midst of other human adults. It’s so easy to slide into hermit mode and just paint every day and forget there’s a world of art outside.
WASH MY BRUSHES. When I worked out of the little room in my house my brushes were right in front of my face at most times. It was easy to see them and wash them. Now that I’m painting upstairs but regularly go downstairs mid-project I have forgotten about brushes sitting in water more times than I’d like to admit. I’ve put a little sign at the door to the studio to attempt to keep me from leaving and returning to dried bristles - it works 75% of the time.
Headspace is everything. If I come into the space to work and I’m nervous, anxious or jumbled nothing good is going to happen. I can clean, organize or work on inventory - but no good artwork is going to be made. This was true in my other spaces as well, but I think I feel it more acutely here. Ways I can correct a weird mental flow; walk the dog, look through old sketchbooks, pull up Artwork Archive and add work, sit and write about why I feel the way that I feel. These things usually help redirect my focus and get me recentered enough to make things.
I also need materials at home. Just a few paints and a sketchbook or two. Leaving the studio doesn’t mean I turn off as an artist and it took me a few months to figure out why I was so antsy at home. I still had ideas to sketch out. Every so often I’ll take a pile of papers to cut up at home too. Nothing is better than getting into the studio with a fresh batch of papers waiting to be collaged.
Snacks are very necessary. I get peckish when I work and if I try to ignore it my work suffers. My current favorites are mixed nuts, dried cranberries and little packets of miso soup.
I’m sure more things will become apparent as I embark on year 2 in this space and I’m sure by this time next year I’ll have rearranged again.
Behind the Work; Forte and Pianissimo
Finished pieces.
In finalizing the last of the work for ‘Material Experiments’ last month, (currently on view at Cahoots) I had one final idea I wanted to dig into before preparing all of the work for install. I hadn’t thought too much about the pieces, just that I wanted to try out two opposing processes in regards to my collage work.
The first was to simply cover a surface with cut paper. No ‘sketches’ beforehand, no planning where pieces would go - just fill up the page. Keep laying down pieces until I can no longer see white. The second piece would be the same size as the first, but the pieces would be carefully chosen. Slowly applied. I wanted to play with balance and movement within the confines of the page size, and the push and pull of planned and unplanned.
And so, Forte and Pianissimo came to be.
The process of gluing and sticking the pieces to Forte was loud and fast (otherwise I would catch myself planning the next piece spacing) and made quite a racket in the studio. Pianissimo was slow, meditative as I sifted through my pile of cut paintings. They were completely different experiences but yet the same.
You can see the work (and more!) at Cahoots until March (end date TBD).