. . . tried a collage

So I'll bet that everyone has been wondering what in the world I was planning to do with (a) my used paper towels that I ironed and varnished; (b) my Citra-Solv papers; and (c) the tissue papers that I used to clean my paint brushes. Well, here's one collage in which I used all of the above. . . as well as some of the papers I painted and stamped. And I also used a few pieces of my huge stash of old books and ephemera. And some magazine pictures. This collage is 10 x 11" with 1 1/2" margins. The base is Arches water color paper.


Collages are a bit more "instant gratification" since you really don't need to wait for paint to dry before adding some else, another color or whatever. And the small size is good, too. . . I don't think I could ever create a large size collage without it looking even more like a huge jumbled mess.


I do have a painting sitting on my table. . . despite the fact that I said I didn't want to make any more paintings. I had a small piece of canvas on hand, and I had purchased some stucco paint on clearance at JoAnn's. . . I think it's discontinued Deco stuff. . . and I just wanted to try it. The painting sucks, but it will be a challenge to try to retrieve something from it.


Today is Christmas decorating day. . . all the stuff is in the basement in another nook off the studio area. Maybe I will have a chance to take a swipe at the painting on the way up and down the stairs.

. . . had a fight

with my mom on the phone just a few minutes ago. I feel like a fool. . . why would I fight with my 81-year-old mother? I don't do it often, but about once or twice a year all the pent-up frustration comes spewing out and I make an idiot of myself. I yelled at her on the phone, for crying out loud. How stupid of me.


Adjectives to describe my mom (at least this morning): unhappy. . . suspicious. . . passive-aggressive. . . guilt-inducing. . . entitled. . . My sisters (who read this blog) and my sisters-in-law (who don't) can probably add a few more. We are all subject to her dysfunctions at one time or another. The only person who does not suffer her wrath is my daughter, Stef. . . we call Stef the daughter my mother never had (although she has three.)


If my mother wasn't my mother, I don't think I could be friends with her. And the sorry thing is I can't be friends with her now. . . she doesn't want that kind of relationship with any of us. She wants to be revered. She compares us to the children of her friends and we always come up short. I personally would like to know what makes that woman tick, what forces shaped her into the person she is today. I understand some of them and I really try to see things from her perspective usually. But I don't think children ever have a complete picture of their parents.


Anyway, I've let off some steam. Of course, nothing is resolved and I feel really awful about the whole incident and I'm sure she's sitting at home stewing about it, too, but she doesn't want to talk about it any more, so once again, we sweep everything under the rug and pretend everything is fine and dandy, only of course we know it isn't. Aren't I too old to have this problem? I sound like I did in high school.

. . .took a break

Yesterday I struggled with a painting. I wrestled with it. I painted and then I wiped all the paint off. Not once, not even twice. Many times. Then I got to the point where I liked about half of it and wanted to leave it alone, but had nowhere to go with the other half. Part of the problem was that I was again being too impatient, wasn't waiting for the paint to dry. So I created smears and shades of brownish-gray and mud. I completed soaked the canvas to the point that all the tape around the edges came unstuck. I will go back down today and try to make something of this painting. . .


The other day someone at the art supply store asked me if my painting was beginning to feel like a job. I honestly could answer no. At least not like any job I've ever had. No one is telling me what to paint (and that's why I couldn't ever do commissions); no one is telling me when to paint, or how, or what to use, or making me keep track of my time. It's all up to me, which is a responsibility as well as an advantage. There is no one else to blame for less than stellar performance.


So I have been thinking that some of my latest works are not what I want them to be. I am hurrying through stuff, which sometimes means I'm bored with the work. I can't blame it on lack of inspiration. . . seriously, there is inspiration everywhere if you only look. And I do have all those photographs that I took and that were the inspiration for many previous paintings. I guess my ADHD tendencies are kicking in. I want to experiment. So I think, since paintings are apparently not selling that well right now anyway, I will take a little break from painting and do a bit of experimental work. . . maybe with collages. . . using the various pieces of paper I have on hand and that I created last earlier this year. . . just messing around. Maybe I'll get so frustrated with that endeavor that I'll relish coming back to painting.

. . . kept layering paint

to make something out of this canvas. I thought at first it was possibly the ugliest painting I had ever created, but it's growing on me. I finally quit working it over just to be done with it. I took multiple pictures of it, but I couldn't seem to get the color right. The top is more brass yellow than green, and the darkish shapes in the center section are actually more red than brown or black. This proves that I'm not too proud to post even abject failures on this blog. But as I said, it's growing on me.


Last night I took a look at the paintings I had recently completed. Some I thought were good; many I thought were just so-so. But after I have seen them so many times, in person and on the computer, and worked on them over and over again, even the good ones start to look bad. I think I should have done this here, or used a different color here, or omitted this part, or "what was I thinking?"


I try to learn something from every painting I do. . . even if it's just not to do anything like that again. So I guess bad paintings are not a complete waste of time.

. . . didn't feel Christmas-y

although in 21 days I will need to have gifts ready for everyone and the house decorated. It just makes me tired to think about putting up the tree and slogging around looking for presents that really no one needs. My siblings and I have decided that even though we drew names, we aren't buying anything for each other this year. My son wants either (a) a king-size mattress and box springs or (b) a computer. And souls in hell want ice water. The babies already have every toy known to man and still prefer to play with my oven or my plastic storage containers and lids.


I made an effort yesterday, though. . . I downloaded a few Christmas songs to the Ipod. I love Kenny Loggins's "Please Celebrate Me Home" but I don't know why it's considered a Christmas song. And Dan Fogelberg's "Another Auld Lang Syne" almost makes me cry sometimes. Almost. And Pachelbel's Canon in D is beautiful.


I read in Douglas Hofstadter's "Godel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid" about the "strange loops" exhibited in each man's work. Escher's "Ascending and Descending" contains an example, as do canons and fugues, and various obscure mathematic/logic theories. The Escher is understandable, I can see what Hofstradter is talking about. Canons and fugues are understandable, I can hear what he means. Even some of the logic is seeping through the fog: the Epimenides paradox is another example of a "strange loop". . . for instance, the statement "I am lying" or "This sentence is false." But the mathematics is just outside my range of comprehension. . . Godel remains incomprehensible. Actually a lot of the book is pretty incomprehensible, and I'm only on something like Chapter 2.


Just consider this blog posting another strange loop. . .

. . . cruised other blogs

My blog-friend, Martha Marshall (http://artistsjournal.wordpress.com/) has an extensive, interesting and diverse blogroll on her site. She has gone to all the trouble of linking them to her blog, so I try to hit a few of them every day. One of my favorites is Bob Cornelis (http://bobcornelis.wordpress.com/) because he creates absolutely amazing monoprints that I thoroughly enjoy. If you haven't discovered this site, I encourage you to take a look.


But not only does Bob show us his art, he also writes about serious art matters. . . he quotes everyone from Albert Camus to Miles Davis, including a whole bunch of people I've never even heard of. His topics and the comments are deep and cogent and way over my head. Because if you've read this blog, you know I don't quote anyone but people in my family and I discuss such weighty topics as texture paint and spray foam and sometimes just daily living.


Which brings me to some questions: Do I reveal too much of how I create my paintings? Do I give the impression that I don't take my art seriously? Is it important to know that I use texture paint or spray foam or leftover packaging material in my paintings? Do I do this because I think others will find it interesting, or do I do it because I have nothing philosophically intelligent to say about art? Is all this a result of not going to art school? I mean, is this the kind of thing art students discuss or learn? The answer to all of these things is probably yes.


To the 20 or so people that regularly read this blog, please know that I do not take myself very seriously. . . I tend to see humor in almost everything, including myself and my art career, such as it is. I have been spectacularly fortunate to be able to create art, and then even more fortunate to have someone out there willing to sell it for me. How can I take myself seriously when it's all serendipity? Even gloomy Mr. Camus would have to see the humor in that.

. . . revealed some bits

of the painting that I actually completed yesterday. I plan to make a pair of these and would prefer to show them together, so right now, these are just previews of the first to be completed. I know, it makes a lot more sense to paint two at the same time. But in this case, I was using some new material and if it hadn't worked out, I would have had two unusable canvases instead of just one.






The new product I was using was the texture paint made by Behr. This time I used it straight out of the can, without altering it. The texture paint is not as thick as Venetian plaster and dries much faster. Another thing I tried, which I have tried before, was spraying some expanding foam into the wet texture paint, then spreading out the foam with a cardboard squeegee while it's still wet. (The foam I recommend is "Great Stuff". . . it's very sticky, doesn't clean up with water, so if you try it, don't get any on yourself, or be sure to have some sort of paint remover stuff on hand. I tried some foam that was water-based, but it didn't stick to the canvas and flaked off. "Great Stuff" will flake off, too, if abused, but not as much as other foams.) After the foam had expanded and the paint had dried (the amount of expansion is decreased when you spread it around while it's wet), I went back over it with a trowel and lightly scraped off whatever bits of foam would come off easily. It really leaves a wonderful textured surface. Then I drizzled on some paints and rolled over it with a brayer or spread it around with another squeegee. I just kept layering and daubing until I liked it. No paintbrushes were harmed in creating this painting.


I plan to get started on the companion piece today. . . let's hope they look somewhat alike.