Fall

We’re halfway though October here in Vermont, moving from brilliant foliage to stick season. In the meantime, I’ve been in my studio working on a few new pieces. Here’s Tea Time, 16 x 16 in., gouache, Flashe, and paper collage on board, 2021. The first pic is where the piece started (showing the collage underpainting) and the second pic is where the piece ended up, with layers of paint, letting some of the collage shine through. I’m looking forward to passing the new pieces to Stella Quarta Decima (SQD) gallery in Manchester, Vt.

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Here’s what’s also happening…a party taking place right in front of our house:

Monson Arts

My studio in the Jones Building at Monson Arts.

I’m just past halfway through a 10-day artist residency at Monson Arts in Monson, Maine. It’s shoulder season up here in northern Maine which means cold winds, snowy rainstorms, muddy dirt roads during the days, when the sun shines long enough to soften up cold ground, and quiet streets. I do not mind this weather whatsoever, being the northern creature that I am but also grateful for any reason to stay holed up in my studio. Attending a residency during a pandemic — or what we hope is the tail end of the pandemic — means even more solitary time than what’s typically afforded. We pick up (while wearing masks) our truly delicious meals in take-out containers and bring them back to our individual studios and homes to eat on our own. Two weeks is not a huge amount of time — and 10 days even less — so I’m focusing on my work rather than on the potential social aspect, despite the fact that the four other artists and writers in attendance are such interesting people.

This was lunch the other day - seared tuna on a bed of spinach and greens, accompanied by artistically carved watermelon. I was over the moon.

While here, I have started a new body of work that I’ll display at my solo show in July at Northern Daughters gallery. I’m working with collage, gouache, and Flashe paint, as is my want, to create a series of pictures of people interacting in various interior and exterior spaces. I’m using the fragmented nature of collage to create multi-layered narratives taking place in domestic and public environments. Here’s the starting point of one of the pieces with the base layer collage in ready for painting:

One of my domestic scenes, a work in progress 9 x 12 in., glued up with its base layer collage.

I am so grateful to have this time and space and feel like I won the art residency lottery. I imagine that spending a month here (one of the residency options which I unfortunately couldn’t do) would be that much more rewarding. If you’re an artist reading this and are looking for a truly supportive, quiet, and productive residency, consider applying to Monson Arts!

2020: Are We Done Yet?

I won’t be the first nor the last to describe this year — 2020 — as one of the crappiest on record, at least in my lifetime so far. The drawing above pretty much sums up my feelings. Between the Corona virus, the reaction to racial reckoning in this country, the mad man in the White House (soon to be out the door, thankfully), the almost-coup, and overall environmental, social, and economic despair, I really don’t know what has been left out of this basket of terribleness.

As an artist, I’m wondering what my role will —and should be— in 2021. My work is not overtly political (other than the occasional drawing) but maybe that will change. Or, maybe I let my drawings do the political work (organizing, motivating, sharing information) and my paintings and collages can do what they do in capturing surreal, contemporary moments. I’m not the first nor the last to ask this question - what is the role of art in a (struggling and raw) democracy? I’m hoping 2021 will hold some answers. In the meantime, I’m taking particular inspiration from artists Marcel Dzama and Deborah Roberts whose Instagram posts are daily reminders of the power of art AND the power of the people.

Urban Birds, in place

My mother beat me to it. She and my father visited New York City before I could and visited Convene where four of my works—the commissioned urban birds pieces (see earlier blog post)—now adorn the walls of the 530 Fifth Avenue building. She took some photos for me. Visiting the site for myself is on my list but first, I have to get enough work done for my upcoming solo show at Northern Daughters that I stop having panic attacks.

Urban Birds

In May, I did a commission for interior designer Felipe Bastos, who spearheaded the design of Convene’s newest office and event space in Manhattan. After learning about my work through my blog, he contacted me about making large-scale painting/collages to be installed in the garden and bird-themed office space in the new building. By large-scale, I mean 4 x 6 feet. That’s big for me; the largest I have painted is 30 x 30 inches, and that felt enormous. Given the time constraint (official opening at the beginning of June), we scaled back on the scope and landed on 13 x 20 inch painting/collages which I could then scan or photograph at a resolution high enough to be printed at three times the size. The final result would be 4 x 6 feet images printed on canvas or another substrate.

Work in progress: first stage/layer is the collage base.

This work happened in an around a day job, and also production for a solo show I’ll have this fall at Northern Daughters. I spent many an early morning and late night in my downtown Barre studio, up on the third floor. I felt like a bird myself, perched up, looking out into the dark through my brick-wall facing windows. It’s not the easiest thing to do--a commission--but this one was easier than others I have done, mainly because Felipe was so organized. And clear. Not only did he send along a detailed sketch for what he envisioned but also reference shots and color swatches. His energy was infectious. I also just like making bird people. Morphing a bird and human into a new, animated, and slightly awkward figure is entirely satisfying. The biggest challenge was working with yellow - making the infamous NYC yellow cabs fly through the air in mundane yet surreal fashion.

All four panels in progress in my studio.

Felipe and his team ended up printing the digital artwork on metal. I thank Paul Rogers for his photography skills in shooting the smaller, final artwork and producing excellent digital files.

Sample on metal.

Another sample on metal.

The merging of several worlds and fields--interior design, art, illustration, and architecture--was exciting for me who is multidisciplinary by nature. I’m looking forward to seeing the space and work when I’m next in the city.

A small version of the final framed piece printed on metal.

Unfolded

People are often interested in the process of how I make collage paintings. It comes down to layering one detail on top of another, and another, and so on. I am at once a craftswoman, an artist, and a laborer. I mention that last one because it’s laborious, even tedious at times, but I can’t help but enjoy that monotony. I like repetition as much as I like spontaneity. After all of these steps, a (hopefully) unified piece appears. I’m not saying that this final art work isn’t important; I just don’t see it as the goal. What I produce in the end is a culmination, a travelogue of the visual journey I’ve taken. Layers and detail. I seek out the stories that happen in between.

These are process shots of Nearly High Noon, gouache, Flashe, and paper collage on board. 10 x 10 in. 2019.