Shifting Gears 2

The Story of Mommy

It’s taken almost three months, but Baby Boy Marquardt’s first picture book is done, done, done!  It went off in the mail to Hawai’i last Tuesday — I delayed blogging about it because I wanted it to be a complete surprise for Nikki and Butch.

As is the way with many art projects, this book took on a life of its own, and is very different from what I had originally envisioned.  I am, however, simply delighted with the final product.  It is much more than I could have ever dreamed of, and I am so excited and inspired that I’ve already started the backgrounds for Book 2!

Part of my original plan was to make the 8×10, fully embellished book, then scan the pages, reducing them to a 4×5, unembellished, ring-bound, laminated mini-book which a baby could chew on, a toddler could tote around, and a school child could read and explore on his own.  I’d keep the non-child-friendly version here for the family archives.  Well, that idea soon proved to be a poor one, for two reasons.  First, and foremost, the pages turned out to be very busy and rather intricate — way too much so for the reduced-size book to be the main copy for the baby.  Second (and this I discovered late in the process), the full-size book is so special that I can’t imagine anyone keeping it but Nikki.  As the book turned out, it is decidedly not baby-safe, but it can be treated as an heirloom — a parent-held picture book to be protected, but read to and shared with a child of any age.  I just couldn’t imagine it collecting dust on my shelves here.

Another difference from my plan was that the book covered a much shorter time frame than expected — just the nine months of my pregnancy with Nikki, and even that required using the back cover for the end of the story.  I’m certainly hoping that the books to come can each cover more territory, or Nik and Butch would have to make room for a 26+ book collection (and I’d never get anything else done with my life).

So, that’s the introduction to the final product.  I’ll post the photos of the process, itself, in my next entries.

Peace, Laura

SWITCHING GEARS

Well, obviously, it has been months since I’ve written here — or worked on my mosaic collage piece.  Life has been VERY busy, and I have been concentrating on different projects.

The big news is that I am going to become a first-time grandmother!!  My daughter, Nikki, who lives with her fiance in Honolulu, is expecting a baby on May 16th, and I am head-over-heels in love already.  It has completely reordered my creative goals, and here’s where you come in.  I am switching gears.

First, a little background.  Nikki (who is now 26) and I have been dreaming for years about her having babies — it’s what she’s always wanted, above and beyond anything else — and the plan was to have me raise them with her.  We had so much fun together as Nik was growing up that she wanted me as involved in the life of her children as I could be.  We expected her to always be here in Houston as she is such a family-oriented person, and the dream has been in the back of my mind for many years.

Then fate stepped in, and she fell in love with a Hawai’ian native, Butch, who had been here on the mainland for 20 years.  Fine and dandy — until he decided that what he really wanted in his life was to go home to the islands.  She followed, and has lived there for two years, now.  They are very happy, and I can’t begrudge her that at all, but I have been grieving the loss of our mutual dream.  Even under the best of circumstances, I can only afford two trips over there a year, and that is not nearly enough to be as involved in her children’s lives as we wanted me to be.  Now that Nikki and Butch are officially starting a family, I am scrambling to adjust my thinking about what it means to be a connected, highly-involved grandmother.

Yes, Skype is on the list, as are many other things, but the very first thing I thought of was to make a series of books for the baby.  Books that would introduce him/her to this side of the family.  Books about her mother’s life, and about the lives of her forebears from as many generations back as I can go.  I have been madly going through boxes of memories, and photo albums, and piles of papers from my own collection as well as those of others, and I have a mess of stuff collected — enough to make a hundred books if I wanted to.

The first key to these books is that they will be art books — not simple scrapbooks.  That is a must for me.  I want to share something of myself in these books too, and as an artist, I can think of no better way than to share my creativity.

The second key is that they be hands-on books, from the baby’s earliest age.  I want them to be played with.  Chewed.  Read out loud.  Slept with.  In other words, used.

So, the plan is this.  I am making 8×10 mixed-media collage pages on 4-ply chipboard, which will be photocopied and reduced to 4×5 size, then laminated.  The pages will be connected by simple metal rings, so that they turn easily.  I will keep the originals here, and the laminated pages will be safe for chewing — no paint or glue or small embellishments to ingest.  If the books wear out, I can always easily make replacements.  Sounds like a good plan to me.

I’ve started the backgrounds of the first book — 6 chipboard “sheets,” which means 10 text pages plus front and back covers.  I’m planning on doing the same backgrounds for all of the pages of each book so that each has a unified color scheme.  I’ll fit as much as I can into each book, but I don’t have the layout of the first one yet (I still have to chronologically order the piles of material I have pulled).  That makes me a little nervous for some reason, but I’m just concentrating on the backgrounds for now, and the rest will eventually fall together.

I thought it might be fun to track the progress of each book here, for those who are interested in that sort of thing.

Step 1:  I cut chipboard into 8×10 sheets, and laid down white acrylic gesso on both sides.  This painted surface allows for good adhesion and better archival quality for the acrylic paints which will be painted on it.

Step 2:  After the gesso dried, I laid down the first color — crimson — in a random pattern.

Step 3:  Immediately, I added primary yellow, allowing the colors to mix in places, creating orange sections.

Step 4:  I then added magenta, mixed with transparent white on the surface, to create contrasting pink sections.

Step 5:  After the surface was fully painted, I crumpled plastic wrap and spread it out over the entire page.  After this dries completely, the plastic is removed, and the surface is then textured in interesting ways.

Step 6: I added two layers of a very thin gesso wash to subdue the bright, hot colors so that they will not overwhelm the collaged elements.  The colors still show through, but will not be the focal point of each page.

Step 7: A layer of deep orange polka dots was stenciled on to add contrast, texture, and depth to the finished background.  Much of this layer will be obscured by the collaging, but what shows through will add visual interest.

And so, the background is finished for the first book.  Now I have to sort through the papers of Nik’s early life, see what will fit, and create a narrative to go with it.  Heaven only knows how long this will take me, but I’ll post more as soon as I have something to share!

Peace, Laura

Creative Stumble

“Life beats down and crushes the soul, and art reminds you that you have one.” ~Stella Adler

I can’t believe almost two months have passed already.  I got very busy with non-artistic projects for a couple of weeks, first, and I didn’t do anything at my work desk during that time, at all.  After two weeks, I was feeling depressed and dry as a bone.  I couldn’t figure out why at first, and then I realized that I had been neglecting my creative side with all of that administrative busy-ness.  I hadn’t been releasing my inner joy in an effective way, and I saw that it had simply worn me down.  Ms. Adler had it absolutely right.  My soul was being crushed — after just two weeks.  How in the world did I survive my first 45 years?

So, I mainlined creativity for over a month, after that, and made a series of art cards in every medium I know: encaustic wax, mixed-media collage, block printing, altered photographs, you name it.  It was a great trip — to extend the metaphor — and I filled myself right up again with a zesty joy for life and for the honor of creating even homely works of beauty.

At last, I was coming down off my high, having come to the firm conclusion that I need to be in a creative, imaginative space every day, or I might just become even crazier than I am already.  After weeks of making bites of art, and receiving the affirmation which online communities offer in such abundance, and which all artists need in abundance (I am convinced), I was ready to work on my own again for awhile.  But I was nervous.  My dryness wasn’t completely slaked — at least, not when it came to my bigger pieces…  And then I came across this quote from Charles Horton Cooley, “An artist cannot fail; it is a success to be one.”  Well, there you go.  Armed with this nugget of wisdom, I returned to my waiting project.

I started with four blank, painted, and lonely single tiles: two red, one yellow, and one blue.  I was still afraid that my imagination would fail me, but I decided to create a representation of one of my very favorite symbols — the Celtic symbol for infinity, which the Hebrews defined as “ruah,” or “the breath of God.”

I started with a red tile, collaging an assortment of tissue papers and red images from my collection.  I then cut a spiral from a deep red art card and glued it down.  I sat back and looked at what I had created so far, and was completely dismayed.  The spiral was irregular, and it almost completely disappeared into the very similarly colored background.  In an effort to make it stand out more, I pulled out some pearl white puff paint, and outlined the spiral with white dots.  It was still horrible.  Maybe even worse.  Pitiful and amateurish.

I set it off to one side, telling myself not to despair — that I could collage over it later — but I felt my confidence and enthusiasm ebbing, and was tempted to go back to the phone calls and emails.  But, I thought, I’ll give it one more try for today.  Just one.

I pulled the yellow tile.  Decided to try the Celtic eternity symbol again.  I collaged the tile with bits and pieces of gold and deep yellow papers from my files, using gesso, as before, to obscure parts of the paper assemblage.  I then braided cords of gold and yellow with a brown-striped ribbon, and glued it down to the tile, spiraling it into that comforting image of the everlasting creativity of the universe. 

Much, much better, despite the braid being a little bulky — but I wasn’t shooting for perfection, was I?  (Whatever that is.)  No, I wasn’t shooting for perfection — just that little sniggle of satisfaction that comes with a job done well enough.  I got that here, so I moved on.

Out came the blue tile.  From somewhere beyond my conscious mind came the decision to make a woven background.  I found some silky blue material and dipped it into clear gesso to stiffen it.  After it dried, I cut it into thin strips, then took some antique lace and cut it in half to match the width of the fabric strips.  After weaving a 4×4 panel, I affixed it to the blue tile and stepped back to admire my handiwork.  Good.

But what to put on it?  It clearly wasn’t finished.  I dug around in my storage bins for a bit and came up with a filigreed metal photo frame.  Wonderful.  I then went through my computerized picture files and found a superb vintage image of a precious baby, printed it out, applied a coat of heavy gel medium to protect it and to make it shine, then cut the picture to fit the oval frame.  I then affixed the frame to the woven background and, voila!  Done. 

I was feeling so good that I decided to return to the ruined red tile and see what I could do with it.  I was looking it over, bemoaning my mistakes, especially the tacky puff paint dots, when it hit me.  The dots reminded me of something.  I went out into the garage where I store my boxes and boxes of accumulated ephemera, and dug around until I found what I was looking for — a partial package of silk and wire butterflies that I had picked up long ago at a craft store clearance bin.  Sure enough, there it was — a blood-red butterfly with silver-white dots on its wings. 

An absolutely perfect match to the tile, in every way.  I couldn’t have planned it any better.  I glued the butterfly a little off-center onto the “ruined” red tile, and they set each other off beautifully.

James Finley is quoted as saying, “Nothing encourages creativity like the chance to fall flat on one’s face.”  Well, I fell that day — nothing serious, obviously — but Creativity came and scooped me up.  It was a fine moment.

Peace, Laura

The Fun Stuff

 

“To draw, you must close your eyes and sing.”

– Pablo Picasso

I love that.  Close your eyes and sing.  I think that this is really speaking to turning off our internal editors, rather than anything.  I know that I have always struggled with this.  My inside voice says, “No you can’t,” or “That’s pitiful,” or, “Why do you even try?”  I have to forcibly remove myself from the presence of that inner editor by getting on with it and just not thinking at all.

In writing I call this process “dumping.”  I just write everything down as I’m thinking about it, then let my editor come back when I’m…um…editing.  Then we work together just fine.

In creating something visual, I have found that I just have to let my enthusiasm take me, and not worry about the consequences.  If something doesn’t turn out well, I can always toss it, or collage over it, or scrape it off and start over.  I have learned, however, not to make that decision right away.  Sometimes, yesterday’s mistake turns into today’s opportunity to try something new.  Besides, we all know that mistakes are really only opportunities for learning, aren’t they?  And mistakes are an inevitable part of the creative process, anyway.  I’m not setting out to be perfect.  I don’t even know what that is.  I’m just singing my way in and through a creative place.  And that’s a good thing.

Starting to make the collage “tiles” for this project was interesting, in light of this train of thought.  I thought at first that I was just going to do the base collage on all of the tiles, then place them on the substrate and figure out how I wanted to embellish them, then.  The idea was to make the project fit into some kind of a theme — all of the tiles would carry that theme out in the way they were decorated.  Well, it didn’t work out that way, at all.  Way too controlled.  I am learning to let go and let it happen — however it’s going to happen.

I did start with just base tile collage.  I dug out several appropriately colored fabrics and an array of papers from a design book I had, and just let it all flow.

 

 

I worked with 8 tiles at a time, gluing two and three together, leaving me with several singles.  Once I graphed out how many of each color and size that I needed, I got started, covering the blank tiles with paper or fabric.  I had a couple of pillow covers in my stash made out of old rustic art quilts, and I cut them apart to cover two of my doubled tiles.

 

 

 

 

The dull yellow color was perfect, the aged fabric is fantastic, and these pieces needed no other work.  They’re fine, just as they are.

Next, I had three tiles, each in one of the palette colors.  I was prepared to collage the bases, as planned, but a piece of crocheted doily from my stash was on my desk with the fabrics, and I found myself working with that first.  I painted each Of three circular sections of the doily in my palette colors, washed them with gesso just a bit to tone down the brightness, wove pieces of lace through the edges, and decided that they should be adhered to each of the tiles I was working with.  Off into embellishment!  So much for my plan.

I ended up using the crocheted circles as the bases for silk and paper flowers, and placed antique buttons in the centers to finish them off.  I liked the way they looked, but they were large and a little flashy, so I had to plan exactly where they would be on the mosaic, and decided to keep the rest of my embellishments more toned down.

 

 

 

 

With that in mind, I started on the next tile.  This blue tile was covered with art paper, then collaged with other papers and covered with gesso.  When the gesso was almost dry, I wiped it down to reveal much of the patterned paper beneath, but not all of it.  This adds depth and a sense of age to the tile.  I then bordered it with phthalmo blue and glued two blue-green rocks to it.

 

 

 

 

 

From that point on, I was creating bases and decorating them as I went.  The idea for creating a mosaic which was covered in tiles with one theme flew right out the window, and I decided that I was looking at random tile themes which would be unified by color, pattern, and rhythm on the substrate.

I was shutting my eyes and singing, I realized.  That inner editor was not dictating what this piece would be — that’s for sure.  I really am just along for the ride, as I said earlier, and that feels good.  Very good.

Peace,

Laura

Getting Started

“If you hear a voice within you say, ‘You cannot paint,’ then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.” – Vincent van Gogh

I thought for years that I was not a creative person.  I dabbled in writing, but never submitted anything, thinking that my stuff certainly couldn’t be good enough or clever enough, or erudite enough or polished and professional enough for anyone to want to read it.   I sang beautifully as a child, and came from a family of performers, but by the time I hit my teens I became convinced that I didn’t have enough talent to do anything remarkable, and it was at about that time that I literally lost the power of my voice.  I can hardly sing a note today.  When it came to the visual arts, I was absolutely certain that I didn’t have a competent creative bone in my body, so I never even tried.

And then about ten years ago, I took a job that required me to write inspirational and encouraging newsletter articles, and I discovered I had a flair with words.  I began to expand my repertoire, and started writing on my own — non-fiction for children and adults, poetry, and even the beginnings of a novel.  My faith in myself was weak, however, and my first rejection letter led to a completely unshakable paralysis.  I still, to this day, have not submitted another manuscript, I am embarrassed to say.

The absolutely amazing thing is that, after all those years (40-something!) of believing that I didn’t have an artistic bone in my body,  it is in the area of visual arts that I have blossomed over the past few years.  I discovered collage at the side of a dear, dear creative friend who taught me that I don’t have to paint like Monet to be an artist.  I later discovered a concept called Artist Trading Cards where you create a very small piece of art (the size of a playing card), and then trade it with other ATC artists you find online.  I was somehow led to jump into this tiny, non-threatening art form, merrily making what I came to understand were examples of mixed-media collage  – utilizing papers, glues and paints of different kinds, and images from magazines and online sources, to start.  Eventually, I discovered more and more media that I enjoyed working in, and now count abstract painting, altered digital photography, hand-carved block printing,  and encaustic wax painting as part of my creative palette.  I delight in trying new things, and never get tired of reading about art, visiting museums, and taking my inspiration wherever I can find it.

I may not be an accomplished (or even recognized) artist yet, but I enjoy the process of learning almost as much as I enjoy the process of creating.  Truly, they go hand in hand.  I firmly believe that the day I stop using my imagination, my life will be over.

So, that leads me to today’s topic: unleashing creativity, and getting started.

Creativity is…seeing something that doesn’t exist already.  You need to find out how you can bring it into being and that way be a playmate with God.” – Michele Shea

This project saw its genesis in the wood section of the craft store.  I found an absolutely charming piece of balsa-like wood, 3″ wide x 24″ long x 1/4″ thick, and thought, “There must be something I can do with this!”  So, I took three of them home, figuring I’d put them with my supplies and use them somewhere down the road.  Well, I think that the idea came to me sometime during the night, but I’m not sure.  All I know is that I saw a project in progress – a large board with small 3×3″ collaged squares on it in a grid pattern.  That’s all, but it got me moving.

I found a large plywood board in my stash (I tend to pick up others’ trash by the side of the road – a practice that embarrasses my children and irritates my husband, but then I have all sorts of interesting things when I need them…), measured it, and discovered that it was exactly the right size to put on a 5×7 grid of tiles, with a 2″ border all around, and 1″ borders in between the tiles.  Coincidence?  I don’t think so.  This project was meant to happen.

 

 

I got out a little miter box I’d also found in someone’s trash, and cut my charming little board into eight 3″ squares.

 

 

It occurred to me that a variation in the height of the squares on the substrate board might be a good idea, for visual interest, so I glued some of the 1/4″ thick boards by twos and threes, using wood glue and a C-clamp until they were dry.

 

 

 

 

Then I repaired to my studio with the tiles, and started base-painting them with my chosen palette of colors – subdued shades of the primary colors red (Alizarin Crimson Hue), yellow (Yellow Oxide), and blue (Phthalmo Turquoise Blue).

 

 

 

 

I was quickly presented with a significant problem, however.  How many tiles needed to be which color, how many stacked tiles did I need, and which colors should the stacked tiles be?  I’m not much of a “figure-it-all-out-in-my-mind” type of person, so I got out my journal to worry my way through the conundrum.  This is what I came up with:

 

 

 

 

 

I decided (flying by the seat of my pants) that I needed 16 red tiles (8 singles, 5 doubles, and 3 triples), 12 yellow tiles (5 singles, 5 doubles, and 2 triples), and 6 blue tiles (3 singles, 2 doubles, and 1 triple).  In case your math is better than mine, you’ll notice that this number only adds up to 34.  That’s because I’m planning 1 quad for the exact center of the grid, and it will be a combination of all three colors.  This arrangement of thicker pieces, scattered in an apparently random manner, is meant to create an undulating, rhythmic effect.

The pattern of color is interesting to me, as well, and is very intentional.  I decided on a rough diagonal line of yellow from bottom right to top left, with the heavier blue massed mainly in the upper right corner, and the red primarily holding down the bottom.  I’m hoping that this will give a sense of movement and dynamism to the finished piece.

This early process took quite a bit of time, and I am hankering to get at the tiles, themselves, but I thoroughly enjoyed the planning process, nonetheless.  It’s been interesting to me to see how the creative process is working for me – a combination of pure inspiration, intuition, and specific planning.  I realize that all factors are important, and are intrinsically intertwined.  I can’t seem to operate any other way.

In large part, the inspiration and intuition are what get me going.  The planning is what I do after receiving the gifts of the first two.  Inspiration just comes.  Intuition just kicks in.  All I have to do is be open to both, and even then, I’m just along for the ride.  Jack London wrote, “You can’t wait for inspiration.  You have to go after it with a club,” but as much as I loved his work when I was a kid, I couldn’t disagree with him more as an adult.  Inspiration does just come, it seems to me.  We just miss it most of the time because we’re distracted by “more important” things.  But if we pay attention with what St. Benedict called “the ears of the heart,” we actually get to follow that inspiration with joy and a heightened sense of life.

 

Be well,

Laura

 

 

WELCOME TO MY WORLD

This was my work space this morning.  I suddenly realized that I am a real, bona fide, working artist as of right now.  I may not have sold anything yet; I may not be displayed in a gallery; I may not even have all of the necessary techniques down pat yet.  But I have one thing that I didn’t have before — an honest-to-God place where I work, fiddle, toss out, accumulate, and create.  What else does an artist really need?  This is a working artist’s nirvana, I’m thinking.  This is not the way it looked when I finally (after years of wishing and working at the kitchen table) got my own room and converted it into my studio.  Oh, no.  It was very different just a month ago.

It was pristine, then.  Organized to the max.  Everything in its’ place, and ready to host all of my creative  energy.  Little did I know that my creative energy was a good housekeeper’s nightmare.  I try to clean up every night before I go to bed, but even if that happens (and it doesn’t always), it still looks like a cyclone hit it at the end of the next day.  But you know what?  It doesn’t matter one whit.  Not even a little.  Not to me, at least — because good things happen in this space.  I am free, for the first time in my life, to do exactly what I feel led to do, exactly when I feel led to do it, and there’s no better freedom than that.  None.

There is one other aspect of my once-tidy little studio which I haven’t mentioned — my beloved chaise. This is where I sometimes do my best work — thinking, writing, reading, sketching, napping.  I found it for a song on Craigslist (Thank you Benjee!), and it is the only spot in my studio that remains free of clutter.  I’m not certain, but perhaps being able to nap on a chaise in the middle of a hectic day of cutting and painting and gluing and dyeing is really the best freedom of all.  I love this place.