Beautiful floating heads....

A little while ago on facebook, I remarked on what I thought was one specific artist's work, actually was a whole bunch of different artists creating similar-looking work - the depressed/sad, big-eyed gothic dolly paintings.  Learned that a lot of it was possibly influenced by the "Big Eyes" art of the 60's-70's, but I was specifically referring to modern-day work I was seeing at festivals, stores, etc.  Not my particular cup of tea, I didn't really retain who did it, I just noted the style/look - so my surprise when I'm at a show and I see a table of it, and then another, and then another, and realizing they all have different names attached.  And well, that's nothing new in the art world - subject matter and styles tend to mushroom in certain peer groups (think about the Cubists or the Impressionists, etc) and with the internet, it can spread even more.

Another similar group I've been noticing more and more in alternative circle as well is what I will call "the beautiful floating heads."  The subject matter tends to be some sort of beautiful woman's head, against a mostly empty background, with decorative and natural elements.  There was a show of these sorts of paintings at a cafe my husband and I stopped at the other day.  I found the paintings beautiful, but something bugged me.  And it felt like the same thing that bugged me about the big-eyed dollies.  

I came to the conclusion that it's the emptiness of the figures...that the eyes are empty, and that the female bodies seem to be just vehicles for beauty.  That they seem plastic, without power.

Maybe that's the point? I don't know, I'd have to ask each artist to find out why they do what they do - but then again, shouldn't the art tell me that?  And what it makes it different from all of the nudes and figure drawings from the last few centuries, or any part in any culture's artwork?Again, I don't know.

But I'm pretty sure I don't want it in my work. I want my figures to address the viewer, and to have something to share of their experience.   I want them to have power. I don't want them to be just pretty design elements.

Yes, I see the irony of me being a big fan of Art Deco and Art Nouveau, but I also strongly feel that Mucha especially breathed life into his figures - that they had something to say beyond selling a product...especially his mural work and other paintings.

I think, in the bigger picture regarding the dollies and the floating heads - it's not the trend or similarities behind all of the works that bugs me, or the crafting of the work, which is usually very good to very high quality - amazing execution - which could be a big root of their popularity.  So my intent is not to dis the makers of these works in any way.  But rather to address the way they make me feel, and inspired my work. 

So the inspiration/plan for this series of paintings I'm working on - is taking at least 16 women from myths/history who have been reduced or flattened into a stereotype, and give them back their power.  We shall see how it goes. 

The Floodgates Have Opened

Some people would argue that I never stopped making art in the decade following my graduation from RISD.

That creating digital collages, the occasional small drawing/painting, designing websites, cards, costumes, patterns - and DANCING, that's all art. I made over 1000 corset belts, hundreds of bras, vests, and other costume items, from hair pieces to headdresses.  I definitely produced a lot of items. Definitely a lot of stuff people would define as wearable art.

So I can see the truth in that argument.

But compared to now? It feels different.

In the last year, I finally managed to create my first arts-only space, separate from my dance space.  Where I can paint, draw, design, craft, sew, etc - and that is all that space is for.  Combined with the idea of letting go that everything I make, must somehow make money -while also acknowledging that art is a major part of my income - this is new territory.

From my earliest memories, I have always made art.  There is something that happens in the art-making process that accesses and appeases a part of my brain in such a way that no activity - not even dance- can.  The procedure of making art is a trial and a conflict - I am simultaneously at peace, in a wrap of silence and solitude, all the while the voices in my head discuss/argue/comment every step of the way. And it's also about the way I can be totally immersed in some unrelated activity (watching a movie, dancing, making love, creating a meal) and suddenly have a vision of something I must draw or paint.  Then being able to just acknowledge whatever that vision is, sketch it, and come back to it later without questioning the how, what, or why.  That I can be out somewhere, and wish I had my sketchbook with.  (So I need to start bringing it with me everywhere.)

That, for me, is true art-making. I think the last few months, I have been warming up.  That I have awoken the beast - the one that lay dormant, hibernating, perhaps starving a bit (or a lot), and now is ready to create, that MUST create.  And the universe has seemed to have responded with a variety of open doors and windows.

Has it been waiting all this time? 

Raven: Memory & Dream

A few weeks ago I found a bunch of my old sketch books, particularly from RISD (my college years). So I got lost going down that rabbit hole, finding sketches and ideas I hadn't explored in over 12-15 years.

But I actually on a quest to find a particular sketch that's been at the back of my brain for a while.  It was a quick sketch I had done of some ancient Celtic art - that either was on exhibition at the RISD Museum or some other place I had visited - of a raven holding on to a circle. And I found it.

I have long been fascinated with crows and ravens - and their roles in myths across the world.  These ideas had blended in my head with the more modern interpretations of author Charles de Lint in his work. One of the key connecting threads is that the Raven is a keeper of memory and dream - or a transporter of such.

In the last 8-10 years, I have explored the subject more through dance than visual art, so it was time to get back to that drawing and see where the painting would take me.  I worked on it over the course of several days, on a 5" x 5" panel of clayboard with a mixture of first ink, then acrylic.  I'm pretty pleased with the result, but I'm going to explore it again on a larger scale with more mixed media soon.

This piece has already found a new home in a private collection. 

"I Am Freer Than You."

I spent most of the Fall being on tour, then getting married, actually going on a real vacation for our honeymoon, and then recovering from it all - so not exactly the right environment for making art and blogging about it.

However, I was deeply inspired with everything I saw on our travels - in the South, New Orleans, Monterey, CA, and Arizona - and now we are mostly home for the next several months, which means time to make art! And write about it!  And in the last few weeks, I have been busy reacquainting myself with my studio and making paintings.

One of the first pieces is a portrait of a barn owl, sporting a set of antlers.  It is a 5" x 5" acrylic painting on clayboard masonite.

While in North Carolina, Nathaniel and I got to visit with our friends Kambriel and Curse, who took us to a raptor sanctuary - which was truly wonderful. There were ravens and magpies, vultures and hawks, and of course - owls. Including some of my most favorite - the barn owls!

So when I sat down to paint, I knew one of the subjects had to be a barn owl. And as I started work on this little painting more, she asked me for antlers.  Perhaps a strange request (and as other people pointed, perhaps impractical?) but when an owl asks you for horns, you don't say no.  This is how I roll.

Interestingly, while teaching a myth-based workshop on Saturday, I remembered a dream I had about 2 years ago, where I was being taunted by a large owl (something of a mix between 3 breeds, it kept shifting) with antlers - who, as he flew away said, "I am freer than you! You will never be as free as me!" or something to that effect.

Well, a lot happened in my life since then, so perhaps he was just trying to push me, versus being a sort of annoying soothsayer.  However, I don't believe this owl lady here is of the same ilk.  There's something more peaceful and knowing in her gaze, and the background is calming.

And she is the first piece I have decided to finally put on etsy...only have had a store sitting empty for a couple years now...so if she speaks to you - you can take her home!

Cardboard Box Magic

Not letting this blog lag!

I've been pretty busy lately doing custom work for clients, so I haven't had a lot of time to focus on my own artwork. And the studio got really messy, so last night I got it back into shape, and now I'm ready to work.

But what I need to actually work on doesn't involve the more usual 2D formatting...I'm in the midst of a special secret project that is very much 3D...and involves a very large cardboard box. I don't think I've worked magic with cardboard since college.  My freshman year, in 3D class with Eddie Oates, we had to make a violin out of cardboard - however we couldn't use tape or glue, and it all had to be a single piece of cardboard if you took it apart again.  Sounds impossible, but it's quite a fantastic challenge for using your brain and strengthening craftsmanship. (I ended up making a miniature violin out of watercolor paper, because I'm crazy.)

Luckily I can use tape and glue and attach pieces as needed with this, but I need to it to break down easily as well...so it has its challenges.

Alas, no pictures yet, until the secret is revealed.  Which will be on October 4th, at the Columbia City Theater, at this show!  And yes, I did the art for the flyer :)

Illustration vs. Fine Art vs. It's Just Words

The above photo is a shot of my studio space, junior year of RISD, 1999. It was set-up for an open-studio kind of event.  And yes, there's a lot of yoni and breasts in that there photo. All of the large work on the right side wall sold, somewhere between 1999 and 2012.  I majored in Printmaking and loved Intaglio processes - but I did a lot of mixed media work, often involving monotypes and transfers.

After 2001, I didn't do a lot of what I consider "fine art."  I made a lot of dance-inspired pieces, which have sold (and continue to) sell very well - but would I show them to a gallery or museum? Probably not.  They're exercises in playing with line, color, movement. But I would believe that most of the people who have purchased the originals and prints would consider them to be art, for sure. Why don't I? That's disconcerting, to me at least.

I got started in the art world very young.  I started formal art lessons in first grade, at a prestigious arts center in New Jersey, and then traveled across the Delaware River to study at Fleisher Art Memorial most Saturdays of the year until I was 14.  When my family moved to South Carolina, I was very active and competitive in the high school visual arts program and won a spot in the Governor's School for the Arts Summer Program.  Through all of this, my artwork was exhibited frequently and won numerous awards.  I can't even remember a tenth of all of the places my art has been and what it has won.

And all throughout this process, I would always hear about the division between "Fine Art" and "Illustration" - usually with a disdain towards the latter - especially by Fine Arts.  Illustrators would occasionally roll their eyes toward the whole Fine Art deal, alluding to flakey, touchy-feely, procrastinators.

I chose to major in Printmaking because it seemed to be one of the few options that allowed for both Fine Art and Illustration. It was about the process of Printmaking more than what you did with it.  You could use a lithography press to make fine art, or illustrate a book, for example.  But that didn't stop the debate from cropping up at critiques.

And I sit here, preparing to start promoting myself as a visual artist again, focusing on creating new work, artist statement, etc, I am faced with the question of - what genre is my work? Does it fit into some sort of "-ism"? And would the mythical and looming "they" consider my work illustrative or fine art? And lastly, why do I even care?

Illustration, at its core, is about giving visual life to some other form of art - such as a story, poem, or song. And there within, that suggests that the art, without the companion, lacks meaning. Fine Art is supposedly about making art, for art's sake.  But so much fine art lacks a "deeper meaning" - what of the pretty florals and landscapes that hang over couches? Portraits of ancestors? If it tells a story, does that make it no longer fine art, or do the mythical elite consider it not art at all?  When I make art, I am often telling myself a story in my head, whether I planned it, or not.  Do all artists do this when they make art? Or does that guy making squares on squares, just do it without thinking?

And I think of my favorite artists: Frida Kahlo, Andrew Wyeth, Alphonse Mucha, Jean Gerome', John Singer Sargent, William Blake, and countless others....some of which have been called illustrators, and some certainly did work as such, but also made fine art, and hang in museums all over the world. They have been inspirations for me for as long as I can remember, and they all thought deeply about their work and the stories behind it.  How is their work defined? What "'ism" do they fall under?  And if my work harkens back to them, what does that make my work?

So maybe I should just say "Here's my work....define it for yourself."

Musings

I'm very excited about the artwork I have been creating...and I would like to start focusing on getting the new work out there - create enough of a body of new work for a show, get it out in galleries and such, get new prints made, submit my artwork to publications - the whole kit and kaboodle.

"Baladi II Series: Backbend" Mixed Media on Paper

But we're also going to be on the road for dance-and-music projects for most of October, and busy with
personal stuff in November, so not much time for art-making...and the dance aspect is definitely another variation of art-making for me....the costume creation, the performance concept, the movements and presentation.

But there's not quite the same satisfaction in the result of that process as a tangible piece of artwork. You can capture photos and video of dance...but it's not the same as seeing the dance live.  A piece of visual artwork....while it's not quite the same to see it on a website or in a print magazine, I believe it holds its power more.  Dance for me, relies more on that physical manifestation of energy between the dancer and the audience....and I have yet to see a video of a performance that comes ANYWHERE as close to the energy transfer as the live performance.

On the upside, as long as I can see, as long as I have hands....I will be making art.  Heck, I'd paint blind and with my toes if I had to....