On the Easel
On the Easel
when I come to the studio, there's a catch in my throat.
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
What do I do with an idea that follows me?
I had a picture in my head of figures crammed into a space, and the tensions that could create, the feeling I have when I'm pressed against people in a small space.
I wondered,
what if I create cutout drawings of her?
I decided I could move them around until I found a composition that expressed my idea.
As my thinking changed, my question expanded.
I wondered...
How could I create the feeling of pressure, of tension?
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.
I realized enthusiasm for the idea 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 explored subtractive painting.
I studied books and others' drawings
I asked
What's missing?
What's needed?
What can I learn from this mess?
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.
a compositional flop
other ways to position figures
thinking about how to compose the light
what if I paint around them?
I'm feeling a bit ambivalent about leaving this for now
and wondering...
where will it take me next?
I studied the underlying forms of the body and how they move, how they compact, how they interact, how flesh touching flesh creates tension
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 enliven the painting?
When I lived in Milan, I watched an elderly man as he walked along the road.
It seemed his body had compressed over time.
I thought of how we age. Do we tuck more into ourselves, feel less sure of our moves,
our steps, our rhythms?
I tried making cutouts of the figures.
It worked well,
but it's time consuming.
no edges –just living, making
no edges
–just living,
making.
discovering the harmonic grid became a turning point in my work, an AHA for understanding composition.
What does tension or pressure
feel like in my body?
noticing the relationship between land and body
I sensed that I was holding back.
I decided to step away from my tendency toward creating tender, gentle works.
The concept of the painting called for it.
arrival
the insistence
I started seeing the body not as just the body
but as landscape, an intertwining layering of forms, and played with exaggerating them to create a sense of depth.
I enter the studio. Something is already stirring.
an image, feeling, problem begins to insist on being made
what I imagine exceeds what I know how to do
the search
the trying
the opening
A person, technique, discovery, or accident gives me a way forward.
the question
The work starts asking something different of me.
the seeing
Composition, rhythm, body, space, relationship—
the things I discover through making this work.
and now
I stop for now. I don't have the whole answer. I wonder where it will take me next.
I draw, observe, find models, study, try to understand what I'm seeing.
