Attempting a Reclamation

Is there a single one of us who hasn't made a piece that just never worked out well? What do you do with yours? While I read often of painters burning failed works, I'm more frugal -- also more optimistic about recycling my materials.

An old, failed project revisited the design wall this week. The original idea, attempted last October and November was to build a surface where letter forms appear to be falling down like rain. One of the other reasons it failed, I decided, was that I just didn't like the letter shapes themselves. I twisted and turned and painted and overworked the surface to death. I completed it and then realized that I basically could never show it in public.

But this week it occurred to me that I could re-vision this "finished" piece strictly as an under-painting, pushing back the original composition to a mere suggestion by layering painted, manipulated cheesecloth over it.


I planned to develop cracks and fissures with elongated Etruscan letters applied along with hand stitching onto the cheesecloth layer -- again referencing age and accumulated layers over time.

But then I went to the hairdressers and saw a picture in a decorating magazine of a painting with an abstracted bowl shape in it. I have been drawing bowl shapes and musing on how to integrate them into my language pieces for two years. When I came home, I drew some variations inspired by the shape I saw and decided to consider the idea of adding abstracted bowl shapes to the surface rather than more letter shapes.


Here's the first effort. I question whether the bowl shapes really integrate with the language forms still faintly visible through the manipulated cheesecloth.

My dear friend and fellow artist Rebecca Howdeshell saw this and suggested the shapes might integrate better if I age their surfaces, which is an excellent idea to try next. What if they have cracks and fissures and maybe even fragments of letters on them?!

So that will be tomorrow's studio agenda, creating ancient, cracked fabrics to cut into bowl shapes and try in place of the ones shown above. If either of the new ideas work, then I will add hand-stitched cracks as line work for definition and emphasis and reclaim this. If they don't, the piece goes deeper back into the storage closet or off to the local Goodwill thrift shop!

Live from the Front Lines

I honestly wish those of you who are reading this could have a studio right next door to mine. Then I could call you up and say, "Hey, come on over and talk with me about this." In lieu of that, I'd love for you to share your thoughts and comments as you watch the progression of this piece. I even promise to answer all comments if you do. If some of you disagree with me or each other, even better -- it could make for a good discussion!

First things first. I am wildly in love with the top third of this. I'm envisioning adding an accent or two of a rust/red tone along an edge, but that is all here. If you strongly disagree, here is your opportunity to tell me so.


So now we move down to the bottom. This is the newly steamed, washed and ironed fabric with the additions of rusty orange and a brownish green. I'm liking the colors. They can grow softer and lighter as they move up the surface of this piece. But now I have to decide how much and where to add the additional color and whether or not the letterforms add anything to the composition. Part of me likes the textures, lines and colors on the piece so much that the letters seem overkill.

The other part of me (I'm a Libra, these internal debates go on continually, what can I say) says that the whole IDEA of this piece is ancient letterforms, so I can't very well throw them overboard. Maybe the answer is to add them selectively and very sparingly to the surface rather than use as many as there are here in this sample area.

Since the test area for the orange and dark green is at the very bottom edge of this super long piece of cloth, I folded and pinned the bottom part up closer to the top on my design wall and took this picture. This gives me an idea of what these colors and textures will look like more towards the middle of the composition.

I'll sit here munching my apple, staring at the images on my computer screen and holding this debate in my head for a bit. Maybe I'll have an insight into what I want to do next.

I really am thinking I want to decrease both the amount and shape of the lightest areas in the lower half of the piece. I might sponge some resist on the surface and screen over those areas to soften the value shift and reduce the amount of that very lightest color. That could create a softer transition from the darkest areas at the bottom to the lightest areas on top. Or I can have hard edges in some places and softer transitions in others.

Or maybe a whole new idea will emerge. The day is young! If you have any thoughts about these options, yes I know it's the weekend and you're busy, but please know you are invited to comment!

Informing the Work

Linen wrapping with Etruscan writing from the Mummy of Zagreb

When you read about an artist's work that "X's work is informed by thus-and-such" or "references such-and-such", have you ever wondered WHY artists do research and how it contributes to the development of their work?

When I took a master class with Michael James in 2007 and told him I wanted to begin to explore language imagery, he advised strongly that I research and study more about art and language to "inform" my work. I took his words to heart and have been researching and learning ever since.

What do research and exploring references do for our art work?

When I selected one language, Etruscan, two weeks ago, to explore for six months, I was a bit worried. There are few surviving samples of this written language other than funerary inscriptions of names. Because of this, experts can decipher individual names and words and phrases but don't completely understand the meanings.

One of the largest surviving Etruscan texts I've discovered is a great stimulation to my imagination. Five linen wrappings on the mummified remains of what scientists have identified as an approximately 30 year old woman from between 150 and 100 BC are covered with 1200 legible words written in ink that appear to be a sacred, religious text. They call her the Mummy of Zagreb.

The images of these mummified remains and the fragments of sacred texts and names of gods and goddesses written on the wrappings are new images in my thoughts as I practice writing Etruscan language fragments daily with a variety of tools, paints and inks. While there is no full translation of the writing on these burial cloths, my imagination creates its own stories and explanations.



Each day as my writing practice with the Etruscan alphabet evolves through the assignments in my correspondence class with Laurie Doctor, I feel the act of writing more. I am becoming more attentive to the movement of my whole body in the act of writing, how similar it is to drawing and how the marks I make reveal much about my state of mind each day, whether I am present and relaxed, tense or distracted.

Slowing down and feeling the instrument in my hand, relaxing the grip and giving my full attention to the process are helping me connect more deeply with the gestural act of writing. Even while I don't know what impact this practice will have on my new work, I can sense a shift in my approach to working.