Laurelines

Bringing the far North closer

When my beautiful daughter Cecelia won a scholarship to live and go to high school in Germany at age 16 for a WHOLE YEAR (!!!) I missed her so desperately that I started painting paintings of her at all stages of her childhood. In a miraculous way, those paintings brought her back to me during the endless 12 months of separation.

In a similar way, the paintings and studies for paintings I'm making for my upcoming show bring Iceland and Norway back to me. The studies below are quick and gestural, drawn from sketches and from the images in my mind's eye.

 

The trick will be to make finished works that share some of the energy of these studies. If I could, I'd spend one whole year just making large scale study after study like the last one shown here, acrylic on board. I wouldn't worry about producing a certain number of finished pieces, I'd just paint my heart out. And at the end of the year, I'd see where I'd been. Maybe that will be what 2014 holds for me. We'll see. There's a still-fresh 2013 to live first!

2012 was important... and busy!

This has been a significant year. I've worked on several fronts, most art-related but not all directly involved with the making of art. 

It all began on January 2nd. A friend I saw at a party urged me to apply for a show at a great local venue. I was between galleries and so I thought, "Why not?"

In February, I made an illustration for The Morning News and fell hard for volcanoes as subject matter. I carried on with volcanoes as images for paintings and started a painting series as part of my application for a solo show.

 

So now, I'll be having a show fall of 2013! I'm a slow painter, so I'll need all that time to get the paintings done.

I had some illustration jobs to do, small and large. In addition to the volcano one for the Morning News, above, I designed the logo for a new literary prize that is launching in a few days. My friend Maxine Mills, a brilliant graphic designer, tweaked and fine-tuned. My reading pig looks very polished now, don't you think?

I illustrated the second edition of a local foodlovers' guide.

I curated the first group exhibition of Urban Sketchers, a brilliant idea proposed by Alice Southwick of the Ackland Museum Store in Chapel Hill, NC! My fellow Urban Sketcher correspondents were so generous in donating their work to this successful fundraising show.

I traveled a LOT in 2012. First was Rome in February to see two of our children and to sketch with Concetta Flore!

 

In late June, it was back to Italy again, this time for the wedding of a dear, old friend's son.

In October, compelled to visit the land of volcanoes again, my husband and I went back to Iceland.

Then, in early December, it as off to Vancouver for a brief celebration of our 21st wedding anniversary!

Putting it all together like this, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for what WAS, clearly, a very important year. I'm reenergized and I'm ready to begin again! I thank you for sticking with me through a year of infrequent blog posts. Life, the blogging world, change...and we change with them. I'll be back with more in 2013! Happy New Year to every single one of you!

Sending you love! Laura

Iceland: last sketches

Much of what I made in Iceland were sketches designed to prime the pump in my painting studio once I returned... more private, more shorthand and oblique than my usual ones. But here are some that fall more into my normal scheme of things. 

The fields surrounding Hverfjell crater are basins of abstract shapes, curves and ovals. I saw dark chocolate with powdered sugar and caramel sauce, too, in the colors and textures there.

I wish I could post these two sections below of the one drawing and show them connected as they are in real life, so you could see the tiny islands scattered pell mell  through Breidafjordur.

Across from Budir bay on the Snaefellsnes peninsula are ridge after ridge of volcanic mountains, stretching as far as the eye can see.

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On the way to northern Iceland, I was sketching in the car, first a little snow flurry and then the snow came thicker and faster. My marks got more stacatto and urgent... all of a sudden, we were in a snowstorm. The car fishtailed. It was quite scary. We made it, obviously, but not without increased reverence for nature's power in Iceland.

The land forms swoop and slide, as below... when they don't jut and jab.

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The pen I used below had water-soluble ink, unbeknownst to me. Thus the grayish casts in the washes. Probably appropriate, all things considered.

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So now, I'm hatching plans for my NEXT trip to Iceland, wherein we will pay a visit to the south and east coasts. I've got glaciers on my mind!

Iceland: made it and back!

It was definitely touch and go, but we made it! And we loved it! We did almost crash our car in a sudden snowstorm, but, well, here I am, wiser than before about the power of that dramatic landscape. You underestimate it at your peril.

This trip, I drew quickly, quickly, as you have to to be able to capture all that energy that Iceland is always emitting, in one form or another.

 

 

If I squinted my eyes, I could pretend that these steam plumes and clouds were little volcanic eruptions. Not to make light of the the danger and power of volcanic eruptions, but you know me... I'm in a volcanic mode this year.

My husband and I scrambled to the top of Mt.Hverfjall, a crater of a volcano that last erupted 2500 years ago. It was, to say the obvious, awe-inspiring.

I made a very, very quick drawing of the land around Budir, on the Snaefellsnes peninsula. We fell in love with this area four years ago and we fell in love with it again this time. I have other sketches of this area to share.

And we visited again our favorite Icelandic café in Hellnar, where the world's best bread and the world's best fish soup are served in tiny quarters, tucked into a hill overlooking the sea.

Here is a sketch I did of this café four years ago, just for comparison.

More to come!

Riding the chi: my artist's statement, illustrated

I'd dreaded coming up with the artist's statement I needed to have to apply for a solo show in 2013. Not to disparage artists (one of whom I am, you'll have noticed) but their/our "statements" are often, well, boring and pretentious. Lots of words are used, though!

Don't ask me why this is. I'm already in hot water enough by revealing my feelings about these darned things. Besides, I don't know why. So that's reason number two not to ask.

(By the way, most of my artist friends dislike writing these statements... it's never really OUR idea in the first place.)

My particular main task, it seemed to me, was to figure out and explain what unifies the various, seemingly loosely related, paintings and drawings I produce. 

Here are two recent ones, as cases in point. Keep in mind, too, my volcano pieces, though I may be at the end of this series for the moment.

This is a study for what I think might be a return to a theme I've dealt with a lot in the past: rocks and water. I'll do lots of these studies and then see how they might translate into larger paintings.

And here's a drawing I made yesterday with a garden subject:

And here is my artist's statement. It incorporates what I've done in the volcano series, as well as some of my other past work, and tries to anticipate how I might be doing over the next months. Pretentious it probably is, but it feels true.

I’m a restless artist, a shape shifter, a seeker, never able to stay in one place, keep to one mode of making art, for long. Painting hasn’t come easily for me. Drawing is my native language. Not long ago, on reading Michael Pollan’s wonderful book A Place of My Own , I was reminded of the concept of ‘chi:’

' "Chi" is the Chinese word for the earth spirit, or cosmic breath, which flows in invisible currents over the face of the earth... . This earth spirit animates all living things.'

It’s when I address in paint this chi, this force that thrills me, that animates the world as I experience it, that I begin to be a painter in a way that matters to me.

In these pieces, I'm leaping back and forth between the particular and the abstract, all the while reveling in texture and color, in energy.

I feel like I’m reinventing myself as a painter... or I’m being reinvented. When you’re a shape shifter as I am, and you’re riding the chi, it’s hard to tell.

Painting paroxysms, round two

Four more finished to add to the three already done. Three in the wings. After  I finish 8 to 10 of these volcano paintings, I'll move to the next series. Which is still a little glimmer in my mind and heart. We shall see what emerges!

Painting paroxysms

Volcanic paroxysms, that is.  A paroxysm is, as you know, a sudden, violent outburst of energy. I have them, you have them. Even educated fleas have them. Ours pale in comparison to volcanic ones. At least, mine do and I hope yours do, too.

So now, after my recent illustration for The Morning News, I can't stop painting volcanoes!  

This subject has grabbed hold of my very being and it won't let go. It's no surprise, really. I was born on a dormant volcano, one of the Aleutian arc volcanoes, in the Bering Sea. A lifelong wanderer, I have felt most at home on this planet in Iceland, a country that absolutely oozes volcanic and other forms of primal energy.

I have long been drawn to exploding, expansive gestures. 

 

 

My love of fountains is another example of my attraction to expulsive energy.

I'm working right now on 7 volcano paintings, the first in what I believe/hope will be a longer series. These are smallish, 11" x 14", a great size for beginning exploration of the subject. Medium is acrylic on board, though I have some water soluble oils I can't wait to try with this series!

 

So, onward, volcanically. I'm learning as I go what works and what doesn't with these paintings and I'm really enjoying the process. I'll have more to say and show soon.

*Postcards from the volcano

I got a commission last week to make an illustration for the website The Morning News. I'd done an illustration for them last summer and both they and I enjoyed the experience a lot. The current article is on natural disasters. Kate Ortega, the editor I've worked with, suggested volcanoes as a theme. I latched onto the subject with glee and ended up submitting three images. This is the one Kate chose:

Here are the two others:

*And here is the poem I've filched my blog post title from:

A Postcard from the Volcano

by Wallace Stevens

 

Children picking up our bones

Will never know that these were once

As quick as foxes on the hill;

 

And that in autumn, when the grapes

Made sharp air sharper by their smell

These had a being, breathing frost;

 

And least will guess that with our bones

We left much more, left what still is

The look of things, left what we felt

 

At what we saw. The spring clouds blow

Above the shuttered mansion-house,

Beyond our gate and the windy sky

 

Cries out a literate despair.

We knew for long the mansion's look

And what we said of it became

 

A part of what it is . . . Children,

Still weaving budded aureoles,

Will speak our speech and never know,

 

Will say of the mansion that it seems

As if he that lived there left behind

A spirit storming in blank walls,

 

A dirty house in a gutted world,

A tatter of shadows peaked to white,

Smeared with the gold of the opulent sun.

 

This has been a favorite poem of mine since I first read it in my late teens, then still practically one of the children Stevens refers to in the first and sixteenth lines. Now, a lifetime later, I'm closer to the 'We' of the poem, hoping that I, too, will have left, when that time comes and in my own modest way, something of 'what I felt/at what I saw.'