Laurelines

Alaska, part one, sketches and studies, means and materials

Note: You do have to click on the thumbnails here to see the full pieces. They are too wide for this format.

 

Well, Alaska was humbling! And thrilling and unforgettable. I'm so grateful for the time I had there.  I wish it had been longer.  

Humbling for the obvious reasons of the place's grandeur and uniqueness, but on a work level, too,  because constricted packing space and travel exigencies naturally limited the kinds of materials I could take with me. The upside of that is that I made do with what I had... and that is a very Alaskan trait!

Here are samples of studies and sketches I made, direct and immediate responses to what I saw, in no particular order. 

At the last minute, I decided to throw in a pad of heavy craft paper and I'm very glad I did! It is so sturdy and, being toned, it provided instant atmospherics and drama.

 

The paper's brown tones seemed to bring out my hitherto completely unsuspected inner Maynard Dixon, a twentieth-century painter of the American west!

 The craft paper stood up well to the charcoal stubs I harvested from a fire pit, using them as drawing tools:

I brought loose sheets of heavyish watercolor paper and was able to make some studies with paint made from soil.I brought back soil, rocks, and found charcoal to continue these experiments at home.

I collected wild currants and smashed them and used their pulp to add color to this ink sketch of fireweed:

In a sketchbook made for me by a good friend especially for this trip, I turned to more colorful subjects:

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More to come of Alaska and its aftermath!

February in the studio: collecting, dreaming

I've been collecting images this month, fossil images relating to the places I've been to and hope to go to. This is an offshoot of my desire to make artwork with and of the numinous places of my life. I plan to paint and draw with found organic materials, as I've mentioned before. I won't be using fossils themselves, I hasten to say, but will incorporate that imagery somehow into my work, if and however it works out.

I've also been generating lots of images for illustration projects, one of which I finished, but can't share until it is published in April. But I CAN and do keep the leftover bits and pieces and recycle them in the pages of my  journal.

First, though, the drawing below. It's throwback to an old, old theme of mine from my early years of blogging, in which I collected interesting objects found on my walks, brought them home and drew and painted them. As usual, it was the textures and gestures of the objects that captured me.

I have birds! My most recent illustration assignment for Charleston Style & Design centered around singing birds in a cherry tree. I put my cd, A Field Guide to Eastern Bird Songs, on the laptop and played it as I drew. Perfect inspiration!

Here are some of the aforementioned illustration leftovers, pasted on a page in my journal:

Below, more leftovers, from two different projects, appearing together in the pages of my journal.  A happy pairing, I thought:

Below, a spread of the fossil studies I mentioned earlier:

There is something very compelling to me about connecting in my artwork, in any way I can, to the deep energy of the world we stand on. It's that old sweet song... channeling the ch'i.

In a few days, I'll be back in the San Francisco to see my daughter and my dearest friend Kathleen. I'll be sketching there, you can count on it. 

I'll tell you then about the place I've recently added to my plans this year, a country connected to Norway by virtue of the events of the Caledonian Orogeny. What's four million years' separation between friends? I'm beside myself with glee, thinking of the new place!

See you soon!

2016: Time out. Time in. Begin again.

 

It’s late for my yearly post about my art (art AND life. I don't separate them any longer) plans for the new year.  That’s because I am moving into a new phase, one in which there are no clear roads and goals.

And that, for me now, is a GOOD thing. Control? Let it go.

The primary direction I’ll be taking, as I hoped it would be last year, will be inner.  The work I’ll be making will come from me and not for jobs. There are millions of people who can make illustrations, but there is only one person who can paint the paintings that are inside me, waiting to take shape and draw breath. 

Of course, this is close to what I said LAST year:

and some from the year before. I got off my intended track, but that, too, is life. Nothing is lost. I learned a lot.

As for my work, I (almost) don’t have a clue what’s waiting to be born and therein lies the excitement as well as the anxiety. I have the mountain series in mind, as with last year, and I’m going to get back to it. But maybe re-addressing this idea, to this point not fully realized, is itself just a step along the way, maybe it will point me in other directions, whatever and wherever they are.

 

To support this inward journey, I’m doing all sorts of things: meditating daily, reading widely on the topic of mindfulness meditation and lovingkindness meditation, books by Tara Brach and Pema Chödrön. I’m taking a year-long online course called Foundations of Wellbeing by Rick Hanson, author of another of my favorite books, Buddha’s Brain. I’m thrilled by all that we are learning about the brain and Rick Hanson, as a noted neuropsychologist and author of several books, is in the forefront of that field.

I’m walking a lot, as usual, working out, and eating really healthy things, even healthier than I always have.

I’m trying to demote myself from Type A to Type C, or at least to Type B-. My immune system is not fond of stress.

I’m continuing to keep my journal, my Big Fat Black Journal, as I call it. As I've said so many times, it is my true lifeline, connecting me with my deeper self and with all the richness as well as the scary awfulness of this world we share.

 

I’ll still be illustrating some, but only those things that speak to me, that make me happy, and that aren’t so time-consuming that I’m knocked sideways. Here's my illustration for the current issue of Charleston Style & Design. I'm working on another for the spring issue, even as we speak. The people there are a joy to work with.

 

I’ll be teaching some drawing classes and leading sketching sessions at the Nasher Museum again. My focus in the fall series will be drawing with nontraditional materials.

 

Some of my work will be in two books to be published this year. More details as I know them.

I’ll be experimenting some with making my own paints and pigments and drawing materials and supports from natural materials. This interest comes from my growing awareness of the importance of place to me.  I would like to draw and paint with the materials that are literally derived from the numinous places of my life. And I’m going to travel to some of those numinous places, too.

 

I’m taking a silk-screen workshop and I’m keeping my antennae up for other new learning experiences, new ways to make art.

 

It’s 2016 and this is my one and only life. I’m raising my hand now and I’m saying, “Here.”

 

Happy 2016 to you. May you find peace, love, fulfillment this year and every year.

December in Bavaria: my sketches and good wishes to you!

Happy end of 2015 and happy tomorrow and the new year! I am just getting this post in in the nick of time... before the clock delivers us to 2016 in this part of the world! The sketches from our trip to Bavaria earlier this month are a fitting way for me to end this year's blog posts. We LOVED being in that part of the world. It is where I spent some of the happiest moments of my childhood and now, of my adulthood. We have already made plans to go back next December. It is not the home of my deep heart the way Norway is, but it is important to me, emotionally, aesthetically, and intellectually. Magnificent natural beauty! History! Great art and architecture! Interesting food and drink! Yes to Bavaria! And Austria, too! I'm not through with you yet!

Oh, the delicious confections in Munich! We succumbed, often.

The rococco grotto at the Residenz Museum in Munich wowed me with its rich textures and quirky figures!

Garmisch-Partenkirchen is a place personally important to me. David and I spent the day there, wandering, sketching, eating, drinking. Of course!

 

More Bavarian dining and sketching:

And just a quick sketch of the mountain shapes that thrilled me there. I have more of these. They will provide lots of visual and emotional information for later paintings.

I am so excited about 2016. I will tell more in the next few days. Happy, happier, happiest new year to all of you!

Moving along: October

October has been a month of transitions. I moved past one big set of deadlines, slowed down a bit and made some really fun Inktober meanders. (Inktober means making an ink drawing for every day in October. I didn't make the daily goals, but I made several drawings throughout the month.)

Then I approached another deadline, did that work, and finally, here I am, ready for travel and trying out new materials and methods for painting and drawing. Will tell more about that later, but for now I'll just say that I'm really, really excited about these new directions for 2016!

And here are some of the Inktober forays. I learned to my delight that I can draw on my interior landscapes of the far north, of Iceland and Norway, and with a few strokes of ink and wash and resist, bring those numinous places to myself again!  It felt like magic!

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In a move of great counter-intuitiveness, I am going to a hot and dry place next week, to stay with an old friend and visit others. I'm so looking forward to the friends, but the heat... not so much.

December will find me running truer to form.  I'll be going to the Bavarian Alps, circling back to a well-loved place of my childhood.

I'll be back with sketches of that hot, dry place soon!

The track of my heart; the journal as location device

 It's the last day of March and the last page of my journal for the first part of 2015. As I've written  before, I keep a regular sketchbook journal, filling one 8 1/2 x 11" Stillman & Birn Alpha sketchbook every three months.

There are many reasons why these books are vital to my well-being, but I'm feeling this especially at the end of a short period where my work is in progress and where the same work has been interrupted a fair amount.  Nothing dramatic here, just some family obligations that I need and want to fulfill. All is well still.

This morning I came across the phrase 'the track of the heart' in reference to an artist's characteristic style over a large body of work. And I thought that's also what my journal is, the track of my heart, and of my mind, my eye, my hand.

And then, one thing leading to another as they will, THAT phrase reminded me of a quotation by Frederick Buechner that I've scrawled recently on my studio blackboard:

Thus when you wake up in the morning [...] , if you want to know who you are, watch your feet. Because where your feet take you, that is who you are.

 

 An accidental photo I took of myself walking in Cesenatico, Italy last fall. There are several of these unplanned self-portraits pasted in my journals.

Knowing who you are is obviously a good idea for all of us. As an artist completely devoted to making art that comes from who I am (making no claims whatsoever about the value of this work to others), I feel a deep and continual need to keep in touch with that inner self.

I see her in the little ink and wash experiments and sketches and to do lists I put in my journals:

 I'm crazy about the way watercolor granulates and illuminates.

 

And I love using dip pens and ink with watercolor washes.

 

I see her in the studies for my current painting series:

I had fun using black lava texture gel here. Would never use it in a finished piece, but it lent the proper spirit to these rough-hewn explorations.

I see myself in the little sketchy faces that appear on my pages, sometimes from the imagination, sometimes as studies for illustration assignments:

Big Stabilo crayons and ink and wash produced the top image; Pentel Pocketbrush pen and watercolor created the bottom one.

I see myself in the spontaneous sketches I make in my journal in the early mornings, before I'm fully awake, of obects in my surroundings:

I keep my old journals nearby, the last two years' worth on a bookshelf in my studio, older ones on a bookshelf in the next room. I consult them several times a week. I find recurring imagery, ideas that surface again and again and demand to be dealt with in time. I get inspired by old brushstrokes and compositions. I discover there are times in each year when my energy and moods are not at their best and this helps me get through those seasonal cycles with a feeling of compassion for myself. I said these books are vital to my well-being and they truly are.

So there.  That's the story.

Even with interruptions and occasional strayings from the path, I have my journals to show me who I am, where I've been, and where in the world I might be going next. 

 

 My snowshoe-clad feet on Mt. Hood earlier this month.

Oregon sketches, last batch

It's always fun to sketch with another person. Sketching with my daughter Cecelia is more than fun... it's thrilling and so gratifying. Because we were together, I sketched more in the short time period than I often do. Well, and it was so beautiful where we were. That kind of incentive works well, too!

I drew the mountain several times, as you have seen, each time from a slightly different perspective and in different light conditions. I could have gone on forever, I think. I'm hoping to go to the Bavarian Alps next December and that may be my next mountain trip. I'll be more than ready when the time comes.

Here is my daughter drawing in her large sketchbook on our first morning. It was warm enough that day for us to sit and sketch without (fingerless) gloves and hats.

I am always drawn to figurative sculpture, from the fountains of Paris to the folk art of New Mexico. At Timberline Lodge, the interior of the building is animated by lovely carved wooden animals. These and much of the original furniture were made by artisans expressly for the building, in accordance with the Works Progress Administration's goals of providing work for laborers and craftsmen during the tough economic times of the 1930s.

Another quick sketch of the mountain, made with Caran d'Ache crayon, Cretacolor nero pencil, and watercolor wash.

Finally, a sketch of the restaurant/bar area at the Residence Inn in the Pearl District of Portland. Cecelia and I sketched there together last August and we did do again last week.

I'm home now and glad to be here, but I miss Cecelia and our time together in Oregon. Good thing I have these sketches as mementoes!

Oregon sketches, first batch

Last week, in spite of cancelled flights due to horrible ice and snow eruptions along my travel route, I managed to make it out to Mt. Hood, Oregon AND back. I went to have some time with my daughter Cecelia, hoping we'd be able to sketch together and to enjoy the mountain together. And we did!

For this volcano-loving, mountain-loving artist, you couldn't ask for a better place to be. Mt Hood is the largest dormant volcano in Oregon. Sitting on a giant tufa boulder (ouch!) to sketch the south flank of the mountain that first morning was thrilling... all was quiet, all was bright. We don't ski, but we were able to snowshoe a bit up the mountainside later in the day and get even closer to this majestic cone of earth.

Here are a few sketches of the mountain and of handsome Timberline Lodge where we stayed, one of FDR's Works Progress Administration constructions from the 1930s.

More sketches to come!