Enter


   Breathe


   Wonder.


   Play.


   Get stuck.


   Learn.


   Notice.


   Return.


And then...

begin again.

when I come to the studio, there's a catch in my throat.


Was there a time when you shared a room...

and then when you had your own space,
   it was as if you'd opened a treasure chest?
  


Each time I walk through the studio door
my eyes take in the encaustic palette and colored waxes



  




The scents of making fill me before I even have a thought

Idea to CANVAS

currently

Currently

Idea to Canvas

What do you do with an idea that follows you?

Mine was a painting of figures crammed into a space, and the tensions that could create, the feeling you might have too when you're pressed against people in a small space.

the rhythm

When do you find yourself feeling completely at home?

Each time I go to the studio.
When I'm not sure what to do next, I play. 

   experiment
   doodle
   stretch
   wander around the space
   look back at previous work
   

If I drew figures and turned them into cut outs, I could then move them around until I found a composition that expressed my idea.

experiments

Have you ever tried something simply to find out what would happen?

I did.

I wondered...
How could I create the feeling of pressure, of tension?

Tests I tried.

   I used different media to make freer moves
   I doodled, starting from stick figures
   I modeled for myself with a mirror
   When a test didn't work, I tried a different approach
   I laughed at myself when something turned out ridiculous
   

the muse

Has an unexpected encounter ever quietly changed the direction of your work—or your life?

That's happened at least twice with this painting.

A model showed up and I immediately knew.
my breathing shifted, I felt it.

I need her for my painting.
I love the way she moves.
I love how she contorts her body.
   

the practice

When did you first realize enthusiasm wasn't enough?

When I began putting the image from my head onto paper, I became aware of my shortcomings. 

   I didn't know enough about anatomy.
   I felt unsteady about composition.
   So I took a course in Great Masters drawing.
   Then another.
   And another on composition.
   I studied books and others' drawings.
 
I keep asking...

  What's missing?

  What's needed?

  What can I learn from this mess?


   
   
   

the composition

Have you ever had a clear idea...

and absolutely no idea how to make it happen?

It had been a long while since I'd had a studio where I could paint with oils. I was eager to get back to it.

But when it came time to paint my idea
   I froze. 

I remembered that in the past,
I had lacked confidence with composition.
   Now I felt stuck.


Then, opportunity showed up.
   I learned how to compose with a harmonic grid,
   a new tool for my thinking.

Have you had that experience where a way forward simply lands in your lap?
   




   
   
   

compositional flops

Shifting Directions

She feels stiff
in this pose.

Try this position.
What does it feel like in my body?

other ways to position figures

thinking about how to compose the light

what if I paint around them?

I kept trying to make this one work
...it continues to perplex me

studying negative space

When you stop working on something for awhile,

how do you reconnect with it?



I'm feeling a bit ambivalent about leaving this for now

and wondering...


where will it take me next? 

No matter what, I kept drawing. Every single day. Different media. Different approaches. 
Not directly for the painting, but for my mind. 

Testing a subtractive approach by using ink, Q-tips (ear buds) and bleach to pull color and find the light areas...

Can I transfer this method to oils?

What does tension or pressure
feel like in your body?

If I drew figures and turned them into cut outs, I could then move them around until I found a composition that expressed my idea.

   jars of inks ready for the press
   a wall easel wide enough for two big paintings
   oil paints and an open jar of turpentine set out on a glass palette
   a corner for making books with a cutting mat, threads, needles, and an awl
   a rolling table for ceramics and of course
   the big table in the center of the studio with stacks and stacks of drawings, papers,            artifacts, and drawing materials.

   jars of inks ready for the press
   a wall easel wide enough for two big paintings
   oil paints and an open jar of turpentine set out on a glass palette
   a corner for making books with a cutting mat, threads, needles, and an awl
   a rolling table for ceramics and of course
   the big table in the center of the studio with stacks and stacks of drawings, papers, artifacts, and drawing materials.

When do you find yourself feeling completely at home?

Each time I go to the studio.
When I'm not sure what to do next, I play.

   experiment
   doodle
   stretch
   go for a walk to search, to notice
   


  

No matter what, I kept drawing. Every single day. Different media. Different approaches. 

Not directly for the painting,
but for my mind
for my hand to remember.

What do you do with an idea
that follows you?







Mine was a painting of figures crammed into a space, and the tensions that could create, the feeling I have when I'm in an elevator.

Enter

   Breathe

   Wonder.

   Play.

   Get stuck.

   Learn.

   Notice.

   Return.

And then...

begin again.

When I come to the studio, there's a catch in my throat.

Was there a time
when you shared a room... 

and then when you had your own space,
it was as if you'd opened a treasure chest?
  


Each time I walk through the studio door
my eyes take in the encaustic palette and colored waxes



  








The scents of making fill me before I even have a thought

Have you ever tried something simply to find out what would happen?

I did.

I wondered...
How could I create the feeling of pressure, of tension?

Tests I tried.

   
   

   I tried different media
   I doodled, starting from stick figures
   I modeled for myself with a mirror
   I tried a different approach
   I laughed at myself, made light of disasters
 

Testing a subtractive approach by using ink, Q-tips (ear buds) and bleach to pull color and find the light areas...

Can I transfer this method to oils?
 

Has an unexpected encounter ever quietly changed the direction of your work—or your life?

That's happened at least twice with this painting.

A model showed up and I immediately knew.
my breathing shifted, I felt it.

I need her for my painting.
I love the way she moves.
I love how she contorts her body.
   

When did you first realize enthusiasm wasn't enough?

When I began putting the image from my head onto paper, I became aware of my shortcomings. 



 
 


I keep asking...

  What's missing?

  What's needed?

  What can I learn from this mess?


   
   
   

  I didn't know enough about anatomy.
   I felt unsteady about composition.
   So I took a course in Great Masters drawing.
   Then another.
   And another on composition.
   I studied books and others' drawings.

Have you ever had a clear idea...

and absolutely no idea how to make it happen?

It had been a long while since I'd had a studio where I could paint with oils. I was eager to get back to it.

But when it came time to paint my idea
   I froze. 








I remembered that in the past,
I had lacked confidence with composition.
   Now I felt stuck.

Then, opportunity showed up.
   I learned how to compose with a harmonic grid,
   a new tool for my thinking.






Have you had that experience where a way forward simply lands in your lap?

When you stop working on something for awhile,

how do you reconnect with it?


I'm feeling a bit ambivalent about leaving this for now

and wondering...


where will it take me next? 

If my underpainting
is bold, how will it e
nliven the painting?

When I lived in Milan, I watched an elderly man as he walked along the road. 

Compression.
I thought of how we age and maybe come into ourselves, carry ourselves tighter, feel less sure of our  balance, our steps. 

The cut outs idea works well, but it's time consuming. 
Next, I used the same process but on Canva.

 I painted over
most of this

save scraps of canvas

no edges –just living, making

no edges
–just living,
making.

 when I let go

the idea grows