accordion file

Spoons To Get....Spoons I Have...

2012-01-31T15:57:00.000-06:00

In a notebook in Keokuk, IA, my husband’s great-grandmother inventoried her spoon collection. The symmetry of the columns, the loopy cursive text, the alphabetized words, the dark blue ink on the light blue lines of faded notebook paper all come together to make this more of a drawing than a document.

from the sketchbook

2012-01-29T17:19:00.001-06:00

hello human

2012-01-17T08:04:00.006-06:00

Despite the fact that my dog has several things to lie on in the studio, this happens whenever I pull out canvas.

A friend recently asked if I get the post-show blues.    Yes, I do.

Today I pick up the work at The Dixon.   When the curator emailed last week to schedule a time I jokingly asked if I could keep it up a bit longer. I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.

As I was preparing for this show I was focused on the drop-off deadline and the opening. Beyond that I didn’t have many expectations. At every turn I have been surprised and blown away at the ripple effect it’s had. Mainly, this exhibit has given me the opportunity to show my work to a wide variety of people. For example, one afternoon I met a University of Memphis painting class to talk about process, which is something I love to do. (I use to have terrible fear and anxiety around putting words to all of this, but now that I have a clearer idea of what I’m trying to say, you can’t shut me up!)   When we all arrived at the museum, the space was full of middle school students huddled around different pieces with clipboards, paper, and pencils drawing MY work. I felt a huge wave of gratitude as I stood there watching everyone chatting, pointing, and drawing. These kinds of interactions between the community and art don’t happen in galleries as much as they do in museums.   They just don’t. So thank you, Dixon! Thank you! Thank you!

It’s true, I do have a bit of the post-show blues. Stretching a new batch of canvases helps, as does having an adorable creature around doing adorable things. I’m curious how the ripple effect of these past few months will show up in this new batch of work. Surely it will. Onward we go!

***A few days after I orginially posted this, I was stretching canvases and left the studio for a bit to come back to this silliness!***

winter texture

2012-01-03T07:16:00.000-06:00

mapping

2011-12-28T15:55:00.001-06:00

In order to stitch together biography and art, it meant pulling out every single photo and having a look.

I gave my first ‘artist talk’ at The Dixon last week, power point and all. A variety of people showed up - family, old friends, art world friends, and strangers. (Thank you!) I basically told my story, which like most people’s is not a straight line that goes from one thing to the next, but a looping experience of going backwards, coming forward, moving sideways, coming forward, falling down, coming forward.

I explained how and why I make paintings - how my eyes take in information and how I abstract what I see. I talked about influences, discoveries and taste. I was admittedly nervous, especially while planning it, but once I started it felt natural and comfortable to explain my process from the beginning.

We all have a story.

drawer - a person who engages in drawing pictures

2011-12-09T11:40:00.002-06:00

interiors

2011-12-08T16:36:00.004-06:00

This book is full of rooms with details that find their way into my paintings.

I've been admiring this room for a long time. Considering the beige palette Pottery Barn has inflicted on us, it’s hard to imagine that in the sixties the average person (woman) was encouraged by mainstream ‘Better Homes and Gardens’ to actually live with bold color! I decided to do a painting based on this room of primaries, one that pays homage to the pleasures of this partiicular version of domesticity.

The Living Room, 36" x 36", acrylic and graphite on canvas, 2011

Another spread in this book I keep coming back to is this yellow and gray room.

It reminds me of Shelley Duvall's apartment in 3 Women.

With these two interiors in mind I made a painting of yellow and gray.

Nothing Troubled Us, acrylic on canvas, 2011

2011-11-22T06:50:00.001-06:00

The november sky with power lines.

2011-11-16T11:39:00.011-06:00

This speaks to my lifelong innate desire to twirl around in circles by myself.

It clears my head.

l

2011-10-31T16:44:00.001-05:00

Here's the banner at The Dixon on the corner of Park and Cherry. This show has been a great experience! It will be up through January 16. Here's the review.

at the abbey

2011-10-31T16:43:00.003-05:00

I stayed in a Benedictine Abbey in Cullman, Alabama over the weekend. I could have used a few more days there reading, drawing, and sleeping. This odd painting was on the wall in my room.

occupy keokuk

2011-10-26T16:54:00.001-05:00

Like Memphis, Keokuk, Iowa is a Mississippi river town nestled in a tri-state area. It use to be a thriving working class town with lots of factories. They've mostly all closed now, although my husband’s Dad still works in one of the few remaining. It’s sad to see the repercussions of the extinction of American manufacturing. The population of Keokuk is dwindling and many buildings are empty. Despite this, the Iowa, Illinois, Missouri region is beautiful. There are lots of woods to romp around in close by. The river is wide and full with a massive lock and dam. The river roads are windy and tree lined, and the people keep on living.

2011-10-19T15:51:00.003-05:00

Dear Dad, Thanks for sending me this quote. You're right, I can relate. Love, Sis

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2011-09-27T17:11:00.000-05:00

In August I saw this piece at the Arkansas Arts Center in an exhibit of their permanent collection. Afterward, I couldn't stop thinging about it. First, it's Iggy Pop, who I love and adore and try to channel when need be. Then there's the Staple Singers, which have been in steady rotation on my life's soundtrack for many years now. Moving to the bottom of the piece, there's Iowa City, a place my husband spent many formative years. And finally, December 18 is his birthday! I wanted to look at it again but couldn't remember the title or artist. I contacted the museum and they gave me the information and even sent me the catalog for the show it was originally in called "Stitches". They are nice folks over there in Little Rock. The artist is Jenny Hart.

yard sale stripes and agnes martin

2011-09-19T17:03:00.003-05:00

When I saw a hanger full of very fancy ties lying on the couch after one of James' Saturday yard sale outings I thought, what is about the stripe that I'm so atrracted to? I think about stripes a lot and draw them over and over. I could easily slip into to painting only stripes for the rest of my days.

My friend, who is not an artist but indeed loves art, saw a link to this Agnes Martin video and sent it my way. She said she thought of me because of "1. abstraction, 2. stripes, 3. how she talks about art". It felt good to have someone not familiar with Agnes Martin see her work and say 'i see you in here somewhere'.

I've watched this many times over the years and every time I take away a new gem. For example, this 'vacant mind' idea she speaks of is a place I spend a lot of time trying to get to. Thinking is important in the studio, but not thinking is equally as important.

Agnes Martin Interview (20:00 version, 1997) from Chuck Smith on Vimeo.

2011-09-12T06:19:00.002-05:00

To see

is to forget

the name

the thing

one sees.

Paul Valery

the light house

2011-09-11T17:03:00.002-05:00

This is a visual record of a home I spent a lot of time in. Recently, I had the opportunity to walk through before it was sold to take pictures of the details that are important to me. This is memory.

Every afternoon as the sun sets light pours in. People who had spent years in the house would comment on the magnificence of this light, as though each time was the first time. Beyond the architecture and the light, there was something transcendent about the space. Whenever I walked onto the porch it was like going through a worm hole into another dimension, a place just beyond this reality. There was a vibe to it, a peacefulness, that was so resonant you could almost hear it. Granted, my friend who lived here was the type of person who welcomed everyone with open arms and brought out your best self. But there was more to it than just her kind nature. Even she acknowledged the house held an inexplicable spell.

I miss my friend every day. I’ll miss this house. I’m sharing these deeply personal photos in honor of her memory and the future artwork they'll inspire.

where i'm at

2011-08-31T06:25:00.002-05:00

August was a simple quiet month of a routine in the studio. I 'shut the doors of my house' as Stanley Kunitz calls it, working on eight canvases, smaller, more intimate pieces, chipping away at them little by little each day. From February until June I drew a lot, sketched, looked, took pictures, watched movies, read, looked more. A lot of the ground work was laid in those months of sorting. Once I started painting they happened like the natural next step they were intended to be. Now that I know where this work is headed, I’m tending to their nuances, fine tuning and tweaking. This stage sometimes feels like polishing silver. It’s repetitive and meditative.

Today I turn forty-five! It’s a solid sturdy number and it feels really good. As artists we’re expected to explain the purpose and intent of what we do at every turn. I actually enjoy figuring all that out intellectually – I like knowing why I do what I do at this particular moment in time. The reader and explorer in me relishes that part of the work. But truth be told, on a purely gut level, I make art because it reminds me that I am alive and breathing, a conscious creature with a limited amount of time. I feel like I’m actually just now starting to get a handle on art making. I don't think we ever really figure anything out, but I am hearing what I want to say with the work and trusting what I hear. Hopefully, I’ll have a few more decades to keep making art, because not only do I like the idea of being an old lady, I have a lot of stuff I want to make. As my friend wisely said to me recently, “work your ass off in the studio because that is going to tell you who you are.”

2011-07-31T07:49:00.000-05:00

complimentary colors broken down a bit

and a little painting on paper with bright bright colors

2011-07-29T07:23:00.004-05:00

The two things I appreciate most about my studio are the bookshelves and the mascot.

Here's a new drawing.

a new space to think about new things

2011-07-27T18:12:00.005-05:00

Before I hung this new push pin friendly area in my studio, all the random imagery I regularly look at was either on crammed here and there or in a stack. Now that there is space to spread it all out, I can see more clearly what's actually on my mind.

Thinking about:

storage containers

Joyce Carol Oates (her face, her bookshelf, her husband)

thin vertical lines
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neutrals with intense color (ongoing fascination)
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a big hunk of black with bright colors below it
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day glo
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thin horizontal lines
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perspective (in conjunction with the storage containers)
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red and off-white tightly woven together

adventures in magnitude

2011-07-25T07:06:00.002-05:00

My little pea brain appreciates the simplicity of this Powers of Ten video. When it's time to peel my face off the glass and gain a little perspective I watch it.

The narration and music are very 20th century, back when Pluto was still a planet.

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2011-07-24T15:04:00.003-05:00

The Round

by Stanley Kunitz

Light splashed this morning
on the shell-pink anemones
swaying on their tall stems;
down blue-spiked veronica
light flowed in rivulets
over the humps of the honeybees;
this morning I saw light kiss
the silk of the roses
in their second flowering,
my late bloomers
flushed with their brandy.
A curious gladness shook me.

So I have shut the doors of my house,
so I have trudged downstairs to my cell,
so I am sitting in semi-dark
hunched over my desk
with nothing for a view
to tempt me
but a bloated compost heap,
steamy old stinkpile,
under my window;
and I pick my notebook up
and I start to read aloud
the still-wet words I scribbled

on the blotted page:

"Light splashed . . ."

I can scarcely wait till tomorrow

when a new life begins for me,

as it does each day,

as it does each day.

I was recently reminded how much I need poetry in my life. I return to this one over and over again. Both the picture and the poem are from "The Wild Braid - A Poet Reflects on a Century in the Garden."

first stages....with shadows

2011-07-15T13:15:00.002-05:00

I wonder when people in Memphis, my neighborhood specifically, started putting iron on every window and door? If I had to guess I'd say the 70s. Luckily for me the people that lived in my home for fifty years had good taste. They picked a beautifully ornate pattern that cast elegant shadows throughout the day.

These three paintings are in the armature building phase. I have in mind where I want each one to go, but seeing them grouped together with these patterns suggest whole new possibilities.
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orange, yellow, pink

2011-07-12T17:33:00.001-05:00

If I approach a painting without a plan but want to get rid of that intimidating white surface, sometimes I'll just paint it pink. It lightens things up a bit.

The melons and tomatoes from the farmer's market may need to cross-pollinate with this canvas.

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2011-07-09T07:31:00.000-05:00

Song for Harper Lee #88

This painting is by Alabama artist Brian Edmonds. Go here
to read an interview he did with me for his blog. He asked good questions.

2011-06-29T07:02:00.003-05:00

Even though this climbing hydrangea is starting to block some light, its silhouette from the inside of my studio is so pretty that it makes me not want to cut it back.

the art of science

2011-06-22T17:36:00.009-05:00

My head has been in the world of biomedical research lately and let me tell you, it's an amazing world to be in.

This picture is from Dr. Paul Thomas' office in the Department of Immunology at St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. He and I have been working together for the the The Art of Science, a project where an artist makes something inspired by the work of a St. Jude scientist.

Over three meetings we learned a lot about each other's work. I visited his lab, he patiently explained the imagery I had been given by St. Jude and then he came to my studio.

Early on, I asked him what he liked most about his work and he said, "the process of immunity is story telling." I believe that's the true connection between art and science.

First, here are the images form his lab.

This is Trey Oguin, who among other things does all the photography of the flu virus infecting lung cells. He is passionate and focused on the work he does. When I asked him what he found most interesting about immunology he said, "It's hard. It's a challenge. There are not many answers are out there so when you do get it it’s very rewarding." Again, I could relate.

Because of copy write issues, I can't post the images St. Jude provided me to use. (You'll have to come to the show to see those!) These are some of the studies I did based on those images. Written below each one is the description that was on the image from St. Jude.

tracheal epitheal cells

3D image from a video showing the cross section of the human tracheal epithelial layer (nuclei blue) with cilliated cells (green) on the apical surface.

hTEC nuclei

mTEC Drak5

cross section of Rous sarcoma virus infected cells bronchial epithelial.

Human tracheal epithelial cell's cilia, which beat in waves to move mucous and pathogens out of airwaves.

Electron microscopy of influenza particles budding off of tracheal epithelial cells.

3D image from a video of influenza particles budding off of tracheal epithelial cells.

Traditional human seasonal H1 influenza virus spreading in human lung cells

flu virus - green, lung cell nulei - blue, anti viral protien - red

I wanted to make a painting using all of these, but I knew I had to narrow it down. When Dr. Thomas came to my studio he said the one he really liked was this last one above of the virus spreading. It actually looks the least like the St. Jude imagery, but we both liked the target at the bottom.

Part of the painting is telling the story an invasion, another layer is some of the great imagery from Dr. Thomas' board in his office and the rest is simply me just painting. As I told Dr. Thomas when he visited my studio, "at some point I have to stop thinking about all of this and just paint, put colors and shapes next to each other and hope for the magic to happen."

Here's the final result. It's 4' x 4' and titled "Even in Arcadia, there am I".

Every time we met, Dr. Thomas would recommend a book. All of his suggestions were fascinating reads, but I especially loved Arcadia because it made for such an elegant backdrop to the idea of the interdependence of science and art I was thinking about throughout the whole process. The title is a line from the play.

Lastly, here's what I wrote about the experience that is on the website for the show:

As an abstract painter, I observe the world around me and break down what I see into the most basic elements of visual experience. Unfortunately, my eyes can see only so much of the natural world. From the smallest cellular images to the Hubble Telescope shots of the vastness of deep space, scientists pull back the curtain to the invisible yet magical world around us. When looking at this imagery, I appropriate exactly the same elements I would if I were looking at beautiful architecture: line, shape, color, form and texture.

Both art and science give us a narrative to our existence. It’s ironic that in this age of specialization the connection between these two disciplines has been severed, especially considering there are many parallels in why we do what we do. In the laboratory and the studio, artists and scientists spend hours upon hours alone, asking questions, testing and retesting and searching for answers. Curiosity, persistence, repetitiveness and allowing for accidents and missteps, are similar means to different ends.

photosynthesis

2011-06-22T08:25:00.003-05:00

This is Stephanie C. Miller, publisher of Photosynthesis Magazine. She delivers on the description: "sustainable garden design, deeply ecological horticulture, environmental fine art writing, semi-wild landscape and garden photography".

Memphis is awfully lucky to have this imaginative woman poking around artist's studios and behind garden fences. Earlier this year we had a long talk in my studio about the overlapping of ecology and art in our work. For her summer issue I selected a few of my paintings that are directly influenced by the natural world. Check it out.

up against the house

2011-06-14T18:22:00.000-05:00

looking at

2011-06-07T08:20:00.001-05:00

Mickalene Thomas link

Matthew Rich link

my city

2011-05-31T06:43:00.000-05:00

This is Brent Shrewsbury's "Hollywood on the Mississippi". I have a personal connection (a story, a memory) to almost every location he chose to shoot. Spending most of my life here I've seen things come and go. The landscape has changed so much. These grainy images of this sleepy town juxtaposed to 'San Quinton' is pitch perfect. It's a good humored love/hate relationship to Memphis I can relate to.

I also like the story behind it. He got his hands on a free can of film and off he went. The economy of means is something I've been thinking about a lot lately. Doing more with less is an essential part of the creative process - whether it's writing a poem, making a drawing or a film.

He explains:

This film explores Memphis’s abandoning of architectural integrity in favor of sprawl and waste. Many of the locations depicted in this film have since been demolished. Ultimately, this is more an “experimental documentary” than a “music video.” However, since the length and edits were dictated by a single musical piece, I chose to classify it as a music video.

Synopsis: I was on summer vacation from college when this project erupted from a can of free film. With respect for my hometown, and a limited amount of raw stock, I chose each shot deliberately. However, unfortunately and unforeseen, the opening shot of the film caused my associate and attorney, Richard, along with myself, to be added to a Homeland Security watch list. Scolding us for taking photos near a bridge, the Arkansas police sergeant then took our pictures for the FBI.

2011-05-30T10:55:00.003-05:00

explaining

2011-05-30T10:54:00.001-05:00

Teaching has been a revelatory experience. Thank you!

the rainbow connection

2011-05-22T09:11:00.000-05:00

polly apflebaum

a cake my friend made for her daughter's birthday

studio shelf with office supplies and magazines

quick sketches

2011-05-21T08:39:00.001-05:00

Bob

Harris

Living Room

Bag

Scallion

Sun Room

Vcki

Stuff

2011-05-14T16:51:00.001-05:00

From their show at the farmers market.

the sad part is they don't live forever

2011-05-14T14:46:00.001-05:00

This is a house on McLean Boulevard that I pass almost every day. After the last big storm came through town the street was blocked to remove a massive tree that had fallen. A few days later I passed and saw the owner standing in the yard just staring blankly at the empty spot. Then a few days after that I saw this grave marker.

We have a hundred year old willow oak tree in our yard that I am deeply attached to. It is an important part of my daily existence. That tree and the 80 year old one next to it keep me humble as much as they keep me cool.

after the rain

2011-05-01T16:51:00.000-05:00

I keep thinking of last August when it was so dry here that when it finally did rain it felt like a new phenomenon no one had ever experienced. This spring it seems to rain heavily for half the week. The tornado sirens are so common I forget they are even on. Thankfully Memphis has been spared.

I'm so very sad for our neighbors in Alabama. I can't imagine their grief. Seeing the pictures of that destruction makes me very grateful for the beauty in my rain drenched intact world.

drawing class

2011-05-01T16:26:00.000-05:00

This is the third week of the drawing class I'm teaching. We dove into contour this week.

They also drew tools.

The masters...

an arrow on a boat

2011-05-01T16:01:00.000-05:00

I went on a river boat ride with friends. Rachel showed me this and said, "isn't that a great arrow?"

It really is.

thank you, florida

2011-04-24T10:31:00.002-05:00

Florida Fields and her husband lived in my house for fifty years before I did. They planted about twenty-five azaleas of all different varieties around the house and the two oak trees. From early April through May it's quite a show.

the first year

2011-04-19T17:38:00.002-05:00

This still is from “Sweet Movie”. I once used this image for a poster for a band I played in called Larryland. I've never actually seen the move. Little did I know that it's banned in “many countries to this day”. For me, it’s just an image in my brown accordion file that speaks volumes about anxiety. His nonchalance about the situation cracks me up.

I got this film still along with a stack of others from a mail order movie rental company I worked at when I lived in Chicago. They were the first Netflix, but with VHS. It was mostly foreign and independent movies. They had every movie you could imagine (even banned ones)! I’ve flipped through this stack photographs so many times over the years that I can’t imagine the accordion file without them.

Last April I started this blog of images, art, my view of life through the lens of my studio with the intention of sharing my process. In doing so and to my pleasure, I’ve discovered the simplicity in how I make art. It’s about waking up, absorbing life, and hoisting it all onto the compost heap to see what breaks down. It’s in the studio where I let the connections between what’s random and what’s not come together and land. It’s here that I quiet down and listen.

I look forward to another year of collecting, gathering, sweeping life up into a pile and having a look!

just this morning

2011-04-03T18:13:00.001-05:00

The horizon line can be hard to come by in Memphis because of its thick canopy of trees. (My city is so lush.) The Mississippi River sets the stage for beautiful sunsets, but finding an open expanse of eastern sky is harder to come by. Last week we were at Shelby Farms and there it was. I turned to James and said, "We should come out here and watch the sunrise sometime."

Early yesterday morning I feel a gentle nudge. "Remember when you said we should go out to Shelby Farms to watch the sunrise?" We got there about ten minutes after the sun had hit the horizon, but it was still gorgeous. Mist was everywhere. The quiet of the city and early morning light was so amazing that decided to do it again this morning. Today we got there right on time.

a truck load of green

2011-03-27T19:17:00.006-05:00

A new dogwood, a japanese maple and two viburnums are soundly planted in the yard. We borrowed our friend Brent's truck for the errand. We were grinning ear to ear driving across town with our gorgeous load. The little truck looked so nice in our driveway that it was hard to give it back.
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the past couple of weeks

2011-03-27T19:17:00.005-05:00

The imagery from Japan is heavy in my consciousness right now (and my heart).

the first page

2011-03-27T19:17:00.004-05:00

I started a new sketchbook. It looks like this one's going out to Eudora Welty.

sunday afternoon twig burning

2011-03-27T19:16:00.001-05:00

bare oaks

2011-03-19T08:04:00.000-05:00

My neighbor's stark white garage reflects the most subtle light changes throughout the year. This early spring version is really gorgeous.

the art economy

2011-03-17T18:38:00.000-05:00

On a recent Wednesday night a lot of folks showed up for the lecture "One Hour Business School For Artists" by Amy Whitaker, sponsored by Crosstown Art. There was some good information, but more than that what I left with was the buzzing energy of so many people eager to make what they do viable!

when a painting finds a home

2011-03-15T21:26:00.000-05:00

My friend Erin bought this painting and hung it in her kitchen. Last week I had a leisurely lunch at her house with the early spring light pouring in. It's hard not to get sentimental about the process of object making coming full circle when work is passed on, taking on a life of its own, becoming defined in completely new terms by the owner's space. Yes, selling work is thrilling. It motivates and justifies spending so much time on art when often times there's no fiscal return.

from the studio wall

2011-03-06T20:42:00.001-06:00

afternoon collaborating

2011-03-06T20:37:00.001-06:00

I recently got to spend the afternoon in Hamlett Dobbins' Collaboration Class at Rhodes College. These are the notebooks the students have been trading throughout the semester. After they looked at the new developments from the past week, things shifted gears and I passed along the ever useful tricks of tracing and transferring. We watched a great video of Ingrid Calame to get inspired and then Hamlett showed a bunch of images from Henry Darger to Amy Sillman. Here's the drawing I did. I traced things form my sketchbook and pulled some text from a National Geographic. Good fun.

two still lifes, much color

2011-03-06T20:35:00.001-06:00

the huntington gardens - pasadena

2011-02-27T19:09:00.002-06:00

gehry - los angeles

2011-02-27T18:31:00.000-06:00

little dancers - los angeles

2011-02-27T17:58:00.001-06:00

los angeles

2011-02-24T18:24:00.001-06:00

The good husband and I went to Los Angeles to visit friends. Like most people, we wait too long between trips. By the time we're headed somewhere we're fried and running on empty. We had a long leisurely week to refuel, sleep, eat good food, be with people we love, check out a new city, see a ton of art and be happy when we got home to the slow moving Memphis. I'm rejuvenated and inspired.

The first few days were sunny and gorgeous. Our friend loaned us her white convertible Cabriolet to tool around town in. Then the rain came, the top went up and we headed inside to museums. We didn't even get to any galleries because it took so much time to check out the museums. The Getty, Los Angeles County Museum, MOCA, The Museum of Jurassic Technology - there was so much to see. Oh,and not to mention the earth and sky with The Huntington Gardens and The Griffith Observatory.

Both of these pictures are from a bike ride from Venice Beach to the Santa Monica Pier. The Light would be full on bright and then fog would roll in really fast making everything glazed over and eerie.

recurring

2011-02-06T19:35:00.001-06:00

This is Jupiter's moon Europa, but the pattern could be on a rock, a nerve center or the palm of person's hand. One purpose of art for me is to find these recognizable universal patterns, juxtapose and reorganize them so the viewer is presented with something familiar but dissonant.

(The photo from one of my favorite sites, NASA's Astronomy Picture of the Day)

dead winter

2011-01-30T22:15:00.000-06:00

Last week when it looked like it might snow for the third time this year, my friend remarked how much she has enjoyed this Memphis winter because it's reminded her so much of Ohio winters she experienced growing up. "We're having a real winter. Spring will be revelatory, as it should be!"

I left last year's remnants in the garden much longer than usual because I wanted to have the texture around. Today it warmed up a lot so I got outside and whacked it all back. I need winter.

trails

2011-01-30T22:03:00.000-06:00

thursday mornings

2011-01-23T20:54:00.003-06:00

Now that I've taught a few beginning acrylic painting courses at Flicker Street Studio, there are plenty of students ready to dive into the new intermediate course. Every Thursday I load the '91 Toyota (it's a real excitin' buggy!) with all kinds of brick-a-brac from around the house for a still life. The paintings have to go pretty fast since there's only three hours, but each week I see the students laying out their compositions and colors with more and more confidence. After they've got that beginning phase mapped out, I encourage them to tweak some areas and keep other areas lose. I showed them Alice Neel as an example of that.

Alice Neel, Self Portriat1980

answering questions

2011-01-23T20:20:00.001-06:00

Go to artbutcher for an interview about the new work, the new show, the studio, etc.

all is all

2011-01-15T17:14:00.002-06:00

This poster is for Brian Pera's new film that he shot here in Memphis. He and I met just out of high school and then got reacquainted again about fifteen years ago. When it comes to creative matters, we turn to one another for support, honesty, and direction. Long stretches can slip by before we seek each other out, but when it happens it's as though no time has passed between us. He came to my opening last Friday and the next day he wrote about the work on his blog Intermittent Movement. Thank you.

In my studio notebook I have some email correspondences between us from 2004. It was at this point I decided to work solely in abstraction and take my work in a completely different direction. Once a week for about six weeks Brian and I met in his bright breakfast nook over coffee, talking about stuff I'd been working on in the studio. He acted as a muse, but he was also was like a creative therapist. I would describe how the new work was going, what I was reading, or films I was watching. Sometimes he'd simply pick up the pom poms and shake them with encouragement. Other times he'd write to me the most thoughtful observations on painting and the visual arts in general. He looks very closely.

We wrote the exchange below after I had just come back from a trip to New York. It's six years later and I'm still working through so many of these same issues in the studio now as I was then. When I'm 75 I'll laugh at this notion of time and will probably say, "six years....that's just a blink of an eye in studio time!".

Me: I’d like to write some feelings I had about the work I saw in New York. There was a lot of freedom with line and color. After making work in my studio solidly for a few weeks now, and seeing so much in New York, I realize the mental constraints I put on myself. “Don’t use that green because you’re using it too much”, or “here we go with that shape again”. Who cares! I could do it all a thousand times and it would be ok. I saw art that was very repetitive and I liked that. Also, I want to spend a lot of time drawing and experimenting with patterns on a small scale so I can use them in larger paintings. I have this bizarre separation between painting and drawing - that somehow a drawing doesn’t hold the weight a painting does, or it is less ‘sacred’. I saw lots of drawing in New York that knocked me over and made me realize that I am able to make strong work with a little watercolor and graphite. I want to stop thinking of my work in a linear way. Everything isn’t a means to an end. There is no end. Every time we sit to work it’s a beginning.

Brian: I just got to the notes you sent about NY...

I'm glad you went to shows and that some of them impacted you. What's weird about a place like NY, Chelsea especially, is the way you can walk from gallery to gallery as if entering and exiting people's heads. All is permissible, which you start to see when you get exposed to that kind of profusion again. You've got to keep that alive in your own head, because you do have a tendency to second guess and instruct yourself out of or away from your instincts, and sometimes too your fears disguise themselves as instincts, like wolves in sheep's clothing.

I think one of the biggest fears is the impulse to rush. This is the feeling I have waking up in the middle of the night in a panic. The truth is, you're right: show or no show, an artist keeps going. And small gets too big eventually, if only accumulatively.

I was flipping through a Basquiat book last night. I'd forgotten how good he was, how riotous, jumbled like jazz. Interesting too these distinctions you were making, separating drawings from paintings, because I have two books on Basquiat, paintings and drawings, and I noticed that in the beginning his drawings were more spare, as if throwaways, like he regarded them as sketches for an eventual, larger work. In the last few years of his life something clicked in his head. You can see it in the work, which loses a lot of the former distinctions between drawing and painting. What makes the difference?, he must have finally thought. All is all, really. He was using the same materials for both. Once he makes that jump in his head he makes it in his work, too, and the drawings even make their way into the paintings and vice versa, with collage and so forth. You can tell that it totally freed up his practice. He started constructing paintings, not just with drawings and paint but with blocks, found objects, etc. It's interesting too that you bring up journaling, because I'd been thinking about that too. Basquiat initially wrote single words and sentences in his work. When the shift happened and he seemed to realize he could do anything, he started writing all over them, a jumble of thoughts and fragments, from newspaper articles, old sayings, journals, inner thoughts. I thought, I wish Melissa would experiment with word and fabric and everything else she does in her life. I wish she'd bring it all in. Why not collage, why not sew onto canvas, why not construct paintings like collages themselves? Why make simple distinctions between big and small canvases, as if one is logically the natural progression from the other, when you have the foresight to see that drawings needn't be any less significant than paintings? Why think of the dozens of tiny wallpaper pattern paintings you plan to do as separate entities? The entire creative process is built on collation and editorial decisions, deciding what goes where.

I've also been reading a biography on Joseph Cornell, who of course only ever made shadow boxes and paper collage. The man never drew in his life. Never painted. Is there some sort of useful distinction between shadow boxes and paintings, in the sense that one is more officially art than the other? How can that distinction be useful when it's Cornell we're talking about? I mean, who is the painter? Doesn't it all depend? Basquiat made dozens and dozens of paintings in his brief career, working quickly. Cornell worked painstakingly. One was small scale, one large. I remember seeing Basquiat in NY once. I'd only seen him on paper. All work is democratic in print, all reduced to the same size. In terms of size, a Rothko is a Warhol is a Bourgeois, in print. Seeing him in person was something else, of course, but I'd felt him EITHER WAY. Size is for size queens. As for medium, don't you realize that you would be drawing on cans if that's all you had access to, and the question, these sometimes torturous distinctions would never be an issue.

We're having important conversations, and things are going at the rate they should.

an art opening and a snow day

2011-01-10T19:28:00.002-06:00

I like both showing my art and a snow day very much. The opening was Friday and the snow was last night. The first couple of weeks of 2011 are off to a good start.

The 'art opening' is a study in contrasts. You spend hundreds of hours alone making the work only to be in a room full of talkative people for a couple of hours showing the work. Despite the bizarreness of it all, it was incredibly gratifying to have the opportunity to hang two years worth of work in a big room for others to see. It was a memorable night of friends, family and strangers coming together, an experience I hope to have quite a few more times in my lifetime.

I brought my camera to the opening but never got a chance to take any pictures. I'll post some installation shots soon. I was going to go by the gallery today to get some shots, but it's a snow day! (Hopefully this isn't the only one of 2011. The blanket of white illuminates the house with a blue tone that defines winter.)

If anyone wants to check out the show, here are the details:

Buckman Performing Arts Center

60 Perkins Extended

show runs through February 18

gallery hours are m-f, 10-4

The new work is on melissadunn.net.

ahh....frames

2011-01-02T17:48:00.002-06:00

Since my works on paper rarely make it out of the studio, I decided to get a couple framed for the show. I have to admit they look really nice.

december in the studio

2010-12-20T18:16:00.000-06:00

Between the bike messenger bag, the chair and the cabinet, it seems pretty obvious where this painting is coming from - my stuff.

It's a busy time in the studio right now as I wrap up a group of paintings for the show. For months I drew, started paintings, drew some more, started more paintings, and looked a whole lot. I'm now in the final stages of wrapping everything up, taking in these paintings as a body of work, wondering where it all came from. I do each piece with an intention and a goal, but as I get into the actual application of paint, I allow for chance to have it's place in the process as well. The fun part for me is seeing where intention and chance end up landing.

Things I've been thinking about in the studio are mostly formal:

the vertical and the horizontal
expressionistic marks next to graphic marks
long lines over empty spaces
layers of squares
heavy neutrals with splashes of color
building thoughtful grounds
using sign painter brushes for lines
scraping
chunky darks
yellow

permission

2010-12-12T15:22:00.002-06:00

This is from John Kelly's performance piece "Paved Paradise". I saw him in New York a couple of years ago when he screened 'Blood of a Poet' at Queer/Art/Film. During the Q&A he said that when it comes to making art "I need permission all the time". A funny statement coming from someone who seemed really confident in his skin. I jotted down the quote and later looked up his work. This video has been in regular rotation since.

Honestly, I've never really been that into Joni Mitchell. I appreciate and respect her, but she wasn't a life changing discovery for me like for so many others. I have a few friends who "listened to 'Blue' every day in high school." I get that. We obsess, repeatedly look at the same art, listen to the same records and read the same books over and over and over again because they give us permission to do our thing, which is why I've watched this video at least twice a month for the past two years.

In January I'm in a show at the Levy Gallery at the Buckman Performing Arts Center here in Memphis with Mary Catherine Floyd, the resident apprentice at the Metal Museum. Last spring we met at the museum on a gorgeous spring day and sat at a picnic table batting around ideas for a title. We talked a lot about a sense of place and rootedness, not just geographically but in our work as well. I told her about John Kelly and the whole notion of needing permission. We were both drawn to the idea of intentionally claiming permission instead of waiting for it to randomly spring up. With that, we came up with the title "Permission to Roam".

Well, it's time to get back to work. Where's my wig, sparkly dress and microphone?

2010-12-06T11:32:00.000-06:00

2010-12-05T13:22:00.001-06:00

(Mississippi River, 12.4.10)

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

For Gloria Duane Langdon, 1947-2010 and Jim Shaw, 1956 - 2010,

two people who let their lives speak.

gratitude

2010-11-25T17:46:00.002-06:00

I'm grateful this holiday for so many things: health, home, means, family, friends, studio. At this particular moment, as I lie on the couch with a full belly, I'm especially grateful for a husband who takes the time to make five pies from scratch.

challenge

2010-11-18T16:44:00.000-06:00

This is from a figure drawing class I've been taking at Flicker Street Studio. Drawing a model is like uncovering a treasure trove of the basics - line, form, color, texture, volume, mass, etc. When I give myself the gift of observing the nuances of the human form, and actually let go enough for my hand to make marks that reflect what my eyes see, what comes out is a culmination of every mark I've ever made. I know that for a lot of artists once they get out of school and find their niche they turn their back on drawing form life. But for me, drawing form life helps keep my abstractions loose.

Admittedly, it's not easy. I've got a lot of work to do on drawing the face and hands, which is why of all the drawings I did in the class, this is the one I actually like. 2011 will be the year of "plumbing the head". (Check out the excellent series on drawing from the NY Times.)

Working on doing this better never ends. Ever. Which is why when I'm 80 I'll probably be hobbling into some art studio with a person in a robe milling about while a group of people are gathered and setting up to get lost in the challenge.

stove top neutrals

2010-11-18T07:08:00.002-06:00

drawing outside with other people

2010-11-08T20:27:00.002-06:00

These are the drawings I did on an outing to Elmwood Cemetery with Memphis Urban Sketchers. The light was gorgeous and the shadows were stark. We met, we spread out, we drew, and then we met again and looked at what we came up with. It was a great way to spend a Saturday morning.

curtain call

2010-11-08T20:27:00.000-06:00

The previous owners of our house added on a big den off the kitchen sometime in the 1960s or 70s. It makes for a nice studio with lots of light, a closet, built in book shelves and cabinets, and a non-functioning brick 'fireplace' with gas logs that I use to prop paintings on. I can imagine the years worth of many family gatherings in this room. Now there's lots of art making. The HVAC doesn't extend to the studio but the heater/ac window unit works surprisingly well. Turn the knob to the right in the summer and to the left in the winter. In the summer I just leave doorway open, but in the winter I block it off because the house is drafty.

I'm always a little sad when it gets so cold that I have to hang the curtains. I really like having the view of my work table from the kitchen when I'm cooking or puttering around. I think the furthest distance I'd ever want my studio away from my field of vision is an out building. Sometimes I fantasize about living in the country with a studio out back. In between the two buildings there would be a big garden with a stone pathway, a bench and a small pond with lotus flowers, fish and frogs. In the meantime, my view from the kitchen suits me just fine.

the collaboration habit

2010-10-31T10:17:00.013-05:00

These collaboration paintings with Hamlett Dobbins are currently on exhibition at the Marxhausen Gallery of Art at Concordia University in Nebraska.

Collaboration has been a part of Hamlett’s art making for as long as I can remember. A couple of years ago when he asked if I’d like to trade sketchbooks, I was happy to have the opportunity to exchange marks with a painter I’m such a big fan of. How it works is we start with two sketchbooks, make a bunch of drawings and then trade back and forth. Late last spring he asked if I’d like to crank it up a notch and participate in a show of collaborative paintings and works on paper. I really enjoyed the sketchbooks, so naturally I said yes, at which point he brought over about six canvases on board and a big stack of drawings. I worked on them a little here and there over the summer until I finally decided the best way to get it all done was to clear everything of mine out of the studio and focus solely on the collaborations for awhile.

Hamlett and I work out of the same school of painting. We both paint abstractly and make certain parallel choices in our work. We also look at a lot of the same painters for inspiration, historically standing on the shoulders of the likes Philip Guston, Joan Mitchell, Thomas Nozkowski, etc. When we initially began collaborating, I was curious to investigate the commonalities in our work, but what I found was the contrasts far outnumbering the similarities and a lot more fascinating to discover. Each time I painted inside, around and on top of Hamlett’s work, it revealed something new about how I make paintings. When I saw what he did to my work, I learned even more.
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What’s amazing is that Hamlett did a body of work not just with me but with four other artists for this show - Joshua Huyser, Tad Lauritzen Wright, Jamison Brosseau, and Douglas Degges. I see why he loves it so much. After doing all of this work, I find myself falling into a ‘collaboration habit’, as Twyla Tharp calls it. Sometimes, as I’m admiring another artist’s work, I think how great it would be to draw on their work and let them draw on mine.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t make the opening. The images of the installation are borrowed from Hamlett.

acquistions

2010-10-24T09:05:00.003-05:00

These two paintings are by the great Memphis artist Jan Hankins. They've put quite a lot energy into our house since we hung them a couple of weeks ago. Jan obviously didn't know it when he painted the one above, but it's a portrait of my husband, albeit the late middle-aged version. Here's a man with a pencil sitting perfectly upright determining perspective, something James is a natural at, literally and figuratively. Then to the right are machine parts floating in the air, an image Jan said he pulled from an illustrated parts catalog, another connection to James since he draws and writes aircraft parts catalogs for a living. It couldn't be more perfect. The one below really needs no explanation. I hung it in the studio. (Click on them for the bigger view.)

still life

2010-10-23T10:09:00.001-05:00

Drawing feels good. I believe that artists go back into the studio, the kitchen table, to the sketchbook, and do it over and over and over again because it triggers a pleasant chemical reaction in the brain. The irony for me is that I spend so much time thinking about what my art means, where it fits into the greater scheme of object making, what I'm trying to say, blah blah blah. The truth is that I keep doing it because I know that when I'm working my mind will end up in a wordless empty place.

Even though I draw a lot, I don't draw from life much. Sometimes I'll cluster stuff together, or as an after thought I'll have a look around the room and draw a chair or a pair of shoes on the floor, but mostly I just draw from my imagination. James and I were talking about still life drawing and how we should have a corner with a small one set up ready and waiting for when we wanted to go and 'have a draw'. He set up this one with a milk crate, foam, a tube and some cord. I haven't drawn it yet, but I enjoy passing it by every time I walk in the studio knowing it's there when I'm ready.

2010-10-12T21:51:00.000-05:00

scenes from the broad ave. art walk

2010-10-10T15:03:00.001-05:00

When I was just out of high school and coming into Midtown Memphis from East Memphis, I spent a lot of time with 'art academy' kids on Broad Avenue. There was a biker bar called Fred's Hide Out where bikers, punks, art school kids and dead heads would all hang out. They happily served drinks to young girls like myself.

The street has indeed evolved. It still has some of the 'edge of nowhere' charm about it, but because of a few forward thinking folks who have bought buildings in the last ten years, the street is home to lots of artists, crafts persons, the Urban Arts Commission, a decent bar and a new diner. Memphis is really starved for this type of transformation, one that seems to have integrity and quality behind it.

About the pictures. The top one was from a show at Odessa, where it looked like someone cleaned out their dressers and closets and hung all their crap on the wall. I'm not sure who the artist was, but always the voyeur, I enjoyed looking at the 'this and that' of someone's life. The second photo is from Gadsby Cresson's exhibit of bike rack prototypes at Urban Art. And the last one is from the Rozelle Artists Guild wonderful sketchbook show.

crunch crunch crunch

2010-10-03T18:45:00.000-05:00

This weekend we hiked trails and hung out with friends in the woods. I forgot my camera. The leaves are starting to change and fall off the trees, so hikes have that autumn crunch under foot. The light is changing too. For the last few days the sun and moon have been visible in the sky at the same time until almost 11am. When the earth, sun and moon are in that position it's like a big "you are here" sign in the sky.

the listed still life

2010-09-29T21:17:00.000-05:00

This picture is borrowed from over on the other side of the Memphis art blogosphere at Listwork, where Elizabeth Alley broke down the still life painting she did in my class at Flicker Street Studio. Her choice of the pignose amp, the old Jergens bottle and the shaker made for nice circles!

looking down at the afternoon rock show

2010-09-26T17:17:00.000-05:00

2010-09-24T07:08:00.002-05:00

I'm working on a paintning with varying tones of white. As I was putting away the dishes I came across this example.

popping up

2010-09-22T06:45:00.000-05:00

Yellow is showing up a lot lately, as is the square inside the rectangle.

I've never actually watched this program, but I'm beginning to believe these characters are in my subconscious mind, frolicking in the meadow and making those funny squeaky noises.

2010-09-20T18:40:00.000-05:00

scribbling

2010-09-15T19:17:00.004-05:00

This drawing is from a lifetime ago when I was a receptionist in Chicago. I drew a lot answering phones at that job.

We all have a unique doodle. Mine is very Miroesque I think. I've made hundreds of drawings since this one so in some ways my skill level has improved, but there's a looseness to these marks I want back. Life can tighten things up.

A few years ago I had a long conversation about a group of paintings and drawings my photographer friend had just shot. He said something that has stayed in the forefront of my process ever since - "You should pull more of your drawing marks into your paintings." It's easy to become constricted while painting and forget that really it's just drawing. Looking at Cy Twombly helps too.

(Image pulled from poster for show from Galerie Karsten Greve, Cologne - no title)

scheming color

2010-09-11T12:01:00.002-05:00

(from the sartorialist)
This is a gutsy gal with some real chutzpah.

Fashion is a treasure trove of color schemes. This combination of yellow, green, black and flesh tones with vertical punchy splashes of pinks, whites and oranges in the background will undoubtedly work it's way into a painting.

I wonder how many paintings around the world The Sartorialist has inspired?

(Long live the 18 miles of books at The Strand.)

summer's officially over...

2010-09-08T17:12:00.000-05:00

(Asheville, NC pool side.)

... and what a summer it was. The weather was extremely harsh with many days over 100 and barely any rain. The weeks of poor air quality seemed to wear the whole city out. But when I look back on the summer of 2010 I won't think so much about the heat. I'll remember the color studies and collaborations I worked on in the studio, the new teaching gig and all the walking in North Carolina and Connecticut.

I also honed a very useful skill this summer: how to properly use a hoe! I learned that and so much more about growing food at the weekly early morning gardening sessions in the Orange Mound/Grow Memphis garden with Josephine. ( As she likes to say, "I know it's going to be a good day when it starts with my hands in dirt.")

So despite the crazy heat this was a great summer. The most wonderful day of all though was back in June when I trekked out to the suburbs with my two good friends to the JCC water park. Kellie and I giggled our way down the two twisty slides over and over again and then took turns pushing her beautiful mom Duane around the lazy river. After a few hours of sun and play we had the post-swim munchies, so we sat in lawn chairs in our wet bathing suits and ate sandwiches and french fries from the snack bar.

That day was the best day.

riff on a box of rags

2010-09-03T18:13:00.000-05:00

a box of rags

2010-09-02T21:19:00.001-05:00

2010-08-30T20:05:00.004-05:00

From a March day in New Orleans. Super Sunday 2010. (For Adam)

=

last address

2010-08-28T08:52:00.003-05:00

"Breathing" 1987, oil on paper, 11" x 15"

This painting is by Hugh Steers, one of the artist featured in my friend Ira Sach's gorgeous short Last Address. The film is a deeply moving homage to a group of New York City artists that died of AIDS-related causes between 1983 and 2007.

There is a painterliness to it that I really love - shifts of sunlight on architecture, the city soundscape, the nuances of daily life. One particular shot of John Brockmeyer and Ethyl Eichelberger's house in Staten Island reminds me of a Burton Calicott painting, a Memphis artist that I don't doubt was in Ira's field of vision growing up here.

The world keeps turning.

very little thinking

2010-08-24T20:25:00.008-05:00

It seems like lately whenever it’s time to head out of town I head to the woods. This time we drove to Connecticut, camped along the way and once we got there stayed at our friend’s 18th century farm house out in the middle of rolling fields. My head is mighty clear from all the walking and staring mindlessly into space. I didn’t think about much at all.

On the last night of our trip we camped a few miles off the highway in the Shenandoah Valley. Our tent was pitched a few feet from a rushing stream under pine trees with very few people around. I could have stayed there in that spot another week. That’s the plan for next August.

I felt a little guilty not going to any museums. We weren’t far from the Dia Beacon and Mass MoCA, but when it came down to it I just wanted to hoof trails. This is my friend’s father’s painting. I looked at it a lot the few days we were there and have thought about it many times since. It was really the only painting I needed to see.

2010-08-12T18:12:00.000-05:00

the not knowing

2010-08-12T08:59:00.009-05:00

Around 7:00 on Saturday night James and I were getting ready to go over to a friend’s for dinner when I heard banging sounds outside the bathroom window. I looked out and saw the front of my neighbor’s house entirely engulfed in flames - a floor to ceiling, roaring, uncontrollable blaze. I immediately called 911 only to hear the disconcerting message “911 please hold”.

While I was on hold James ran next door to see if any of the family of five were home. He found the owner working on something in his back yard. The fire, probably electric, started and spread so fast that he was totally unaware that the front of his house was even on fire. He just stood there helplessly and cried until the fire department came. Luckily the rest of his family wasn’t home. All are safe, including their german shepherd named Hope, who James picked up and moved over the fence into our backyard.

By the time I got off the phone and into the front yard, the flames were through the attic and about fifteen feet from our house. After what felt like an hour but was probably only five minutes, the firemen came and put it out, sprayed the entire inside of the house with water and gutted the front of the house. Neighbors stood in the street and watched with wide-eyed amazement at the whole scene. Slowly the rest of the family arrived to see their house full of fireman, smoke and water.

The whole experience was another slap in the face reminder that you never know from one moment to the next what life is going to bring. One minute I’m putting saran wrap over a bowl of orzo I made for a dinner party and telling my husband how nice he looks, and the next minute I’m standing in my front yard watching my neighbor’s house burn. My friend Robert respects the "state of not knowing". Or as he puts it, "recognizing it as an enormous domain, a divine domain even, a place of reverence in which our egos find peace.” I like the idea that the dance between order and chaos has room, plenty of room, like enough room for a Ziegfeld Follies movie set, with a white stair case and a chorus line of girls with giant pink feathered fans.

a surprise came in the mail

2010-08-06T12:40:00.003-05:00

"More patterns, please!"

The instruction manual is beautifully illustrated.

It's never too late to discover the joys of the spirograph.

listing

2010-08-06T12:35:00.004-05:00

Like Elizabeth Alley, I make lists. Every once in awhile I pin them to the studio wall.

teaching

2010-08-01T14:41:00.010-05:00

I’ve been teaching a painting class these past couple of weeks at Flicker Street Studio. Wow! What a satisfying experience. The setting and tone of the space are perfect for people coming together to learn more about art: big tables, great light and the opportunity for feedback, which can be the rarest thing of all when making art on your own.

This was my first time my teaching so I was a bit nervous. After I arrived on the first day of class and got the room set up with supplies and a variety of objects from around my house for students to paint, it began to feel more like a natural extension of my studio. From that point on I was very comfortable.

I realize that teaching people who are happy and eager to be in a classroom is very different than teaching in an environment where many obstacles lie between what you want to convey and what is actually absorbed. Negotiating those obstacles is a skill set I’m not sure I even have. What I did discover is that I love explaining how paint works. I also enjoyed seeing how differently each student approached creative dilemmas and being the guide to help them find the solution. I'm looking forward to more classes in September!

2010-07-26T10:35:00.004-05:00

Both of these cars are for sale on Lamar Avenue around the corner from my house. The nose to nose juxtaposition won't stay like this for long because the seller is always switching up the display of the five or so cars on his lot. What a pair! I want to do a painting with a lot of white, some dark green and then a line of blue and orange in the lower third. Sometimes the world just spoons it out. Thanks world.