Art & Words- a shotgun wedding.

Art & Words: Today I had to spend some time writing materials for the public relations person at HERE Arts to use to promote my upcoming solo exhibit, "Means of Attachment." I had to write about myself/my work. I would rather have been asked to write about the effect of Brexit on the economy of Lichtenstein- I know equally as much about these two subjects; and I have no personal stake in the latter. I have a difficult time thinking about my own work much less writing about it. In my view, writing about my work is dissecting it, and to dissect something you have to kill it first.

When I am working, I am not thinking beyond a few simple rules I learned in school about composition or color- and I usually break them anyway. Mostly I am trying to make the thread that thrums between my gut and my brain vibrate pleasantly. When a piece is working, I feel happy- and I am not thinking. When I have to solve a problem, I am looking for that thrum- and I am not thinking. My brain is abuzz with inchoate hums and fizzes, colors and textures- I am not thinking. Occasionally, my upper brain will chime in- "you could use the stencil with the branch texture, it's over there in the folder." "Mmmmm, ya, ya, ya," the thread vibrates back, "color, color, nice, nice, happy..." and so it goes until all the vibration is happy enough and the piece is done.

I have a dear artist friend, Christie Scheele, who writes extensively and speaks about her work- and the work of others- with great insight, grace, and thoughtfulness. Another friend, Clive Hicks-Jenkins, also writes deeply, poetically, about his art. Their art is very different one from the other but I read their lovely, erudite words with bafflement and a bit of envy. How can they write so well about their work and still do their work so prolifically and beautifully? Why do I feel so tongue-tied about one of the most important things in my life? Is my silence really necessary? Time for a brooding, non-verbal cup of Tea...

"Storm Tossed," MMXVI, ©PMLaw

A Few Trips Around the Colorwheel

I realized last evening that I have not posted for a few weeks- since leaving Thrums End and my first night in my new place; here is what has been happening.

I am slowly settling in here, I have learned the benefits of earplugs for dealing with the noise in the night and block-out liner for drapes for dealing with the street lamps that seem charming from street level but not so when one is trying to sleep. I am getting used to the wonky floors and walls in this place- I do not think there is anything at right angles anywhere. I am unpacking and have made a few trips to the storage unit to retrieve belongings. Setting up, putting away, slowly but surely.

Starting even before I moved in here, I had assumed that I would paint and decorate using the same palette I had at my former home- I loved the colors, warm tones, earthy and subtle. But the more time I have spent here the more I have been seeing a very different palette- colors my Great Aunt Jean used- icy turquoises, limey greens (overlap with my old palette,) orchid (!) salmon, and eggplant to ground them all to keep them from being too sweet. The wood trim is all dark and that will ground them also. What!? Where are the clays and mosses? I have apparently moved from earth to ocean. So, I put my ear to the seashell and my eye to the horizon and pick up my paint brush.



Meanwhile, in the studio- have I been making art? Yes. Happy with what I have done? No, not really but I trust it will come back to me.