Today, after weeks and weeks of not arsing myself to continue work on my fabric wall hanging, I continued work on my fabric wall hanging. I'd been putting it off because I didn't like one of the fabrics I'd chosen when I laid it all out, so I needed to replace those pieces, and there's been enough going on (hello, everyone I know who is moving!) that hauling out the ironing board just seemed like a monumental hurdle sometimes.
But today, I did it. I got up and started work on it--interrupted by trips to the thrift shop and the grocery store, and a few things like that, sure, but I got to work on it. I very carefully laid out and traced the pieces on the new fabric.
Backwards.
That's right, all of the new pieces are mirror-images of themselves, because I am officially a Doofus.
Welp. Here goes again.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Friday, May 16, 2014
aaaand I missed April entirely, didn't I?
And now half of May is gone as well. Life gets busy and makes fools of us all.
I have been enjoying playing with my art, although I've also been enjoying the art that is all around me as the weather warms and the plants come out to play, from the early
to the slightly later
That second one, with the deep purple petals on the bottom, didn't bloom last year. This was the first year I knew I had it planted (the bulbs were given to me in a literal mixed bag the previous fall). I'm beginning to want to plant my entire sad little yard with irises, just for those first incredible weeks of spring when they unfold into glory. I'm noticing them more as I travel around, and some of the colors I've seen this spring have made me half-consider nighttime commando raids on neighbors' iris patches, just to be able to plant some in the glorious colors that seem to be everywhere.
That's probably a bad idea, and I'm not going to actually go steal anyone's irises.
But a girl can dream.
I have been enjoying playing with my art, although I've also been enjoying the art that is all around me as the weather warms and the plants come out to play, from the early
to the slightly later
That second one, with the deep purple petals on the bottom, didn't bloom last year. This was the first year I knew I had it planted (the bulbs were given to me in a literal mixed bag the previous fall). I'm beginning to want to plant my entire sad little yard with irises, just for those first incredible weeks of spring when they unfold into glory. I'm noticing them more as I travel around, and some of the colors I've seen this spring have made me half-consider nighttime commando raids on neighbors' iris patches, just to be able to plant some in the glorious colors that seem to be everywhere.
That's probably a bad idea, and I'm not going to actually go steal anyone's irises.
But a girl can dream.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
more pottery
I mentioned a week or two ago that there are many reasons I like the paint-your-own pottery places, not least of which is that it's trivially easy to play with someone else's artistic toys and get out of it something that is both beautiful and useful. Great for beginners, and good for more advanced artists who just need to get out of their regular spaces for a while, or even out of their own heads-- I personally find it to be very helpful when things are weighing me down to get into a different SPACE and away from my own regular art-fodder reserves, into creation with a certain amount of constraint.
So, last week, needing that kind of break, my friend and I went and painted at one of the local studios we hadn't tried before. Just 'cause they're a little farther out than the ones we normally go to, so it requires a bit more of a time commitment; we'll certainly be back.
I had one piece in mind that I wanted to make: I wanted a butter dish. My old plastic ones are falling apart, and I HATE the way cold butter shreds hot toast. I even had an idea in place, waiting only a time when I would be at a studio that had a butter dish on the shelf.
Friday I brought home the results:
I gotta say, I'm pleased. It came out prettier than I'd really even envisioned, and there's not much better that you can say about something you've made.
It'll probably be a bit before I'm back to paint ceramics, because I've got a lot of other projects in the pipeline and taking a day out elsewhere doesn't just happen that often. But I've already got thoughts of what I'd like to do, and heck, I've still got 9 boring cabinet knobs in my kitchen (did I mention some of these places let you paint cabinet knobs? my kitchen is SO much more colorful now!) and 7 in my bathrooms, and 5 boring lightswitch plates (although some of those may get paper or paint decorations, rather than pottery ones). I can't believe I used to think that mugs and planters were the only things available!
So, last week, needing that kind of break, my friend and I went and painted at one of the local studios we hadn't tried before. Just 'cause they're a little farther out than the ones we normally go to, so it requires a bit more of a time commitment; we'll certainly be back.
I had one piece in mind that I wanted to make: I wanted a butter dish. My old plastic ones are falling apart, and I HATE the way cold butter shreds hot toast. I even had an idea in place, waiting only a time when I would be at a studio that had a butter dish on the shelf.
Friday I brought home the results:
I gotta say, I'm pleased. It came out prettier than I'd really even envisioned, and there's not much better that you can say about something you've made.
It'll probably be a bit before I'm back to paint ceramics, because I've got a lot of other projects in the pipeline and taking a day out elsewhere doesn't just happen that often. But I've already got thoughts of what I'd like to do, and heck, I've still got 9 boring cabinet knobs in my kitchen (did I mention some of these places let you paint cabinet knobs? my kitchen is SO much more colorful now!) and 7 in my bathrooms, and 5 boring lightswitch plates (although some of those may get paper or paint decorations, rather than pottery ones). I can't believe I used to think that mugs and planters were the only things available!
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Inspiration, and trees
Guild bios are due tomorrow, and as a lifelong procrastinator, I've been putting it off. (I am a member of the Carolina Mixed Media Art Guild, which is one reason I'm writing this blog to explore my artistic side rather than just making necklaces while I watch TV. They show me fun things to do, and then I want to do them. It. Is. Awesome.) And I want to share and expand on it some of mine.
Given the question, "Tell us about your work, inspiration, and any other comments you may have:" I had a little trouble, because I find many many things to be inspiring. Right now, not surprisingly, I find a lot of trees to be inspiring, because it is still the barest beginnings of spring. The redbuds are starting, and the Bradfords are blooming (well, most of them; the one I moved a couple weeks ago isn't blooming but it is leafing, which gives me good hope that we didn't kill it and it didn't bloom last year either, so maybe it just needs to be more than two years old). The dogwoods haven't begun yet, and the saucer magnolias are just coming into their own.
What I'm trying to say is, I can still see the incredible structure of trees, everywhere. Right now this is a lot of my inspiration, because what started out as a closer look so that I might be able to replicate has become a full-on almost obsession. I can't NOT see it. I can't not see it even when I'm supposed to be watching the road in front of me, which is difficult, because trees are everywhere and every one of them is an intimate complex amazing fractal creation of life, and rebirth, and solid persistence, and joy, and love. They are glorious. I catch myself watching subtle shifts of color and trying to track up into the cloud of branches, and the way the light falls on some branches and not others. I can't stop looking at them. I don't know whether it will get less distracting once they're coming into full leaf or not, but for now, well...
I can see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wildflower*.... but for inspiration, I dare you to outdo a tree.
*(William Blake: "To see a world in a grain of sand/And heaven in a wild flower/Hold infinity in the palms of your hand/And eternity in an hour")
Given the question, "Tell us about your work, inspiration, and any other comments you may have:" I had a little trouble, because I find many many things to be inspiring. Right now, not surprisingly, I find a lot of trees to be inspiring, because it is still the barest beginnings of spring. The redbuds are starting, and the Bradfords are blooming (well, most of them; the one I moved a couple weeks ago isn't blooming but it is leafing, which gives me good hope that we didn't kill it and it didn't bloom last year either, so maybe it just needs to be more than two years old). The dogwoods haven't begun yet, and the saucer magnolias are just coming into their own.
What I'm trying to say is, I can still see the incredible structure of trees, everywhere. Right now this is a lot of my inspiration, because what started out as a closer look so that I might be able to replicate has become a full-on almost obsession. I can't NOT see it. I can't not see it even when I'm supposed to be watching the road in front of me, which is difficult, because trees are everywhere and every one of them is an intimate complex amazing fractal creation of life, and rebirth, and solid persistence, and joy, and love. They are glorious. I catch myself watching subtle shifts of color and trying to track up into the cloud of branches, and the way the light falls on some branches and not others. I can't stop looking at them. I don't know whether it will get less distracting once they're coming into full leaf or not, but for now, well...
I can see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wildflower*.... but for inspiration, I dare you to outdo a tree.
*(William Blake: "To see a world in a grain of sand/And heaven in a wild flower/Hold infinity in the palms of your hand/And eternity in an hour")
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Just one more thing
Final note, something between a teaser and an enlistment of y'all to
keep me honest and on-track. This is my current workspace. I'm not
sure how it's gonna go, but whatever happens, I'll post it when it's
done. And what have I gotten myself into?
Getting Started
...and then getting started again.
Every art is new. Every technique and medium and idea is new. Sometimes skills make a good transfer, sometimes they don't. Sometimes the skills you need for one medium actually hurt you in another. (And sometimes you get knocked on your butt by a cold and don't do any notable art or updating for a week, and then you have to apologize to people for a long stupid silence, so, sorry. oops!)
For anyone who's interested in learning whether they'll find painting fun, I highly recommend the paint-your-own pottery places--most cities have one nearby. A lot of them carry fancy figurines and big platters, but you can also make more practical things--mugs, for instance, are generally useful; Christmas ornaments (and other holiday fare) can make great seasonal accents or small gifts; and a lot of them even have things like light switch plates and cabinet knobs.
This is where I got started again. A friend took me to try the pottery once, and I was hooked. Like so many of us, I'm trying vainly to declutter my house, and the last thing I'm looking for is more tchotchkes to collect dust. (Dust is not a verb in my house, it is a noun. A common noun. And since I have a long-haired cat, it's also frequently an adjective, particularly in the term 'dust buffaloes'.) But finding out that they had light switch plates was brilliant--this is where I can make art that I can display, that doesn't take up extra room or need framing, that doesn't just sit and collect dust. Awesome! Bring me more!
Here was my first switchplate:
and I learned a lot while making it. I learned that I could make something fun even drawing freehand. I learned that oh hey, the rocket looks weird because it's supposed to taper at both ends, but you've already painted it so go for it. I learned a lot about different brush sizes and shapes, and how they work with the paint, and that even though it's a much better idea to use smaller brushes in the tight spaces I'm still going to end up using the big ones because I have all this paint already on it and it's the right color and everything, I'm sure it will be fine. Yeah, don't take a page from me on that one, learn to use the right brush size even if it'll mean more cleanup later. Heck, I'm still working on that one.
I made a few more switchplates. I'm working on replacing all the cabinet knobs in my kitchen with fun ones instead of the boring ones. I've taken my nephew to make mugs for his parents. I know three different pottery-painting places within reasonable driving distance of my house, what their hours are, what their rates are, and what different colors, glazes, effects, tools, and regular stock they have. And the last time I went in, I made this:
I took a lot more time with it than with the rocket--a lot more planning and a lot more brush sizes and I don't have to spend so much time just trying to figure myself out any more, which makes me happy.
I love that art can be practical--that you can take something as prosaic as a light switch plate, which exists for the sole purpose of hiding a hole in your wall, and make it something fun, or funny, or beautiful. I love that you can make a personalized gift of beauty and usefulness, that you can paint for your house or your friends or your family, without ever having to invest in brushes of your own, or paints of your own, just to test the waters and see if painting is a thing you want to try. You don't have to have a space in your house with great light, or excellent storage; you don't need an easel and a color wheel. You just need a desire to play and a little time to go get some color on your hands.
Of course, I do have paints in my house now, and brushes, and canvases, and my poor husband despairs of ever getting the spare room back from my makeshift studio. I have bits and bobs everywhere, and more ideas than I have time to actually do something with the ideas. I firmly believe I share this with all artists.
And any artist who doesn't feel that way? They're probably fibbing.
Every art is new. Every technique and medium and idea is new. Sometimes skills make a good transfer, sometimes they don't. Sometimes the skills you need for one medium actually hurt you in another. (And sometimes you get knocked on your butt by a cold and don't do any notable art or updating for a week, and then you have to apologize to people for a long stupid silence, so, sorry. oops!)
For anyone who's interested in learning whether they'll find painting fun, I highly recommend the paint-your-own pottery places--most cities have one nearby. A lot of them carry fancy figurines and big platters, but you can also make more practical things--mugs, for instance, are generally useful; Christmas ornaments (and other holiday fare) can make great seasonal accents or small gifts; and a lot of them even have things like light switch plates and cabinet knobs.
This is where I got started again. A friend took me to try the pottery once, and I was hooked. Like so many of us, I'm trying vainly to declutter my house, and the last thing I'm looking for is more tchotchkes to collect dust. (Dust is not a verb in my house, it is a noun. A common noun. And since I have a long-haired cat, it's also frequently an adjective, particularly in the term 'dust buffaloes'.) But finding out that they had light switch plates was brilliant--this is where I can make art that I can display, that doesn't take up extra room or need framing, that doesn't just sit and collect dust. Awesome! Bring me more!
Here was my first switchplate:
and I learned a lot while making it. I learned that I could make something fun even drawing freehand. I learned that oh hey, the rocket looks weird because it's supposed to taper at both ends, but you've already painted it so go for it. I learned a lot about different brush sizes and shapes, and how they work with the paint, and that even though it's a much better idea to use smaller brushes in the tight spaces I'm still going to end up using the big ones because I have all this paint already on it and it's the right color and everything, I'm sure it will be fine. Yeah, don't take a page from me on that one, learn to use the right brush size even if it'll mean more cleanup later. Heck, I'm still working on that one.
I made a few more switchplates. I'm working on replacing all the cabinet knobs in my kitchen with fun ones instead of the boring ones. I've taken my nephew to make mugs for his parents. I know three different pottery-painting places within reasonable driving distance of my house, what their hours are, what their rates are, and what different colors, glazes, effects, tools, and regular stock they have. And the last time I went in, I made this:
I took a lot more time with it than with the rocket--a lot more planning and a lot more brush sizes and I don't have to spend so much time just trying to figure myself out any more, which makes me happy.
I love that art can be practical--that you can take something as prosaic as a light switch plate, which exists for the sole purpose of hiding a hole in your wall, and make it something fun, or funny, or beautiful. I love that you can make a personalized gift of beauty and usefulness, that you can paint for your house or your friends or your family, without ever having to invest in brushes of your own, or paints of your own, just to test the waters and see if painting is a thing you want to try. You don't have to have a space in your house with great light, or excellent storage; you don't need an easel and a color wheel. You just need a desire to play and a little time to go get some color on your hands.
Of course, I do have paints in my house now, and brushes, and canvases, and my poor husband despairs of ever getting the spare room back from my makeshift studio. I have bits and bobs everywhere, and more ideas than I have time to actually do something with the ideas. I firmly believe I share this with all artists.
And any artist who doesn't feel that way? They're probably fibbing.
Friday, February 28, 2014
It was simple!
This was my task today: spend at least two hours on art, and not just on ATCs (although it's fine if I do some; I'm having a lot of fun playing with things in small format, especially when I have excess or leftover paint). Nope, today it's my task to play with things and actually stretch myself. Either I figure out my colors for finishing the two backgrounded-but-otherwise-not-sketched-out canvases, or I play with other stuff entirely and dip my toe into this whole 'collage' thing. It's perfectly reasonable.
So why am I still sitting at my computer?
Stupid Internet. Stop being so interesting!
So why am I still sitting at my computer?
Stupid Internet. Stop being so interesting!
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Today was a great day to do some art
Seriously, cool cloudy light in the morning, nice bright sunshine in the afternoon, not too cold, not too hot.
So why did I spend the day moving a tree? (I say 'moving' in hope; I very much hope that that's the proper term, rather than 'killing', but man it was hard to get that sucker free. And either way, it couldn't stay where it was. Alas.).
Art would be much easier if the rest of life would just stop for a few minutes.
So why did I spend the day moving a tree? (I say 'moving' in hope; I very much hope that that's the proper term, rather than 'killing', but man it was hard to get that sucker free. And either way, it couldn't stay where it was. Alas.).
Art would be much easier if the rest of life would just stop for a few minutes.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Art is my addiction
Or, This is what happens when you try to reinvent yourself.
My name is Shannon, and I am an artist.
Sounds like something you'd stand up and say at an addiction meeting, doesn't it? And it's not far off, for two reasons.
First, the first step to changing what you are is stating what you are. Claiming an identity, whether it's the one you want to shed or the one you want to step into, has to happen in order for life to go on with purpose.
And second, yeah. Art is my addiction. (Or the conversation my mom used to have when we were at craft shows, "I only sell crafts to support my habit." "What habit is that?" "Making crafts.") There's so much more to learn out there than I ever will, and so much more to play with than I could ever get bored of.
Art is my addiction.
And it is SO MUCH FUN.
My name is Shannon, and I am an artist.
Sounds like something you'd stand up and say at an addiction meeting, doesn't it? And it's not far off, for two reasons.
First, the first step to changing what you are is stating what you are. Claiming an identity, whether it's the one you want to shed or the one you want to step into, has to happen in order for life to go on with purpose.
And second, yeah. Art is my addiction. (Or the conversation my mom used to have when we were at craft shows, "I only sell crafts to support my habit." "What habit is that?" "Making crafts.") There's so much more to learn out there than I ever will, and so much more to play with than I could ever get bored of.
Art is my addiction.
And it is SO MUCH FUN.
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