Song of myself

In preparation for an online class that I am making for the Artful Gathering, I have moved myself into a brighter, more cozy (albeit, smaller) studio space on the main floor of our house. The attic has proven to be too cold in the winter and the stairs too tough on my knees. So, our three-season porch, has become winterized. I have been busy out here for the past few weeks, moving into my new space. 

This past fall has been a complete whirlwind. I don't know how it got away from me. I taught two classes at Shake Rag Alley in September. Then I headed up to Minneapolis to spend some time vending a Art-Is-You. October and November had me designing and building costumes for NightFires, shipped them back to Vermont. How I missed working on that show. I'm was so excited and grateful when Marianne  asked for my help with the dancer costumes.

Then December crept in.  I was immediately off to Asia to work for two weeks with some of our vendors in Korea and Hong Kong. The day job has left little space for making or even thinking of making new art. 

But, finally, with this new space, with all my materials around me- I have become inspired to work on art again.

New Work

Whitman

2016

Assemblage from found objects

Volt meter case, rusted lamp parts, metal lid, rusted spring, recovered bottle, vintage text, wire, china marker.

9"x 6 1/2" x 3 1/2"

This piece was inspired by a single atom and Walt Whitman's Song of Myself. In some ways it reminds me of the Shrine of Invention. There's a bit of an evolution my assemblages have changed some since 2008. 

Every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

We are all stardust.  We are all interconnected. 

Wishing you Peace and Joy was we move forward into 2016.

New Work: 'o Danny Boy

There's something about titles that can tend to be difficult. Sometimes the name came be so elusive. You don't want the title to give away too much, but you don't want to waste the meaning either.

This piece might have spawned out of one too many nights in the studio watching Outlander. Although not Scottish,the tune has been stuck in my head for weeks now. I even tried watching old 27th Lancers videos to get passed it. As the work began to come together on the table there was no second guessing it. 'o Danny Boy it would be.

Whatever the influence, this box assemblage come together rather quickly.There's something different and new about the work that have been coming out of my studio the past few weeks. I'm excited about how things are coming together. More photos (and more work) to come- I promise.

New Work
'o Danny Boy
Assemblage from found objects
Game board, old Victorian scrap, chess piece, gilded picture frame, transparency, rusty metal.
$175

Contact me for purchase or more information- glimmeringprize@gmail.com

New Work: Harvest Home

I am so excited to announce that my new book assemblage: Harvest Home will be featured in a new books arts show at the Chandler Art Center in Randolph, VT called Turning Leaves.

I have been playing with some ideas of how to marry some of the new techniques I have been using with my old assemblage process. The outcome is this new book sculpture: Harvest Home. Influenced by the research I have been doing with old houses and the stories abandoned homesteads carry with them. This piece incorporates 7 found photographs given to me by a local historian of a family that resided in Williston, VT in the late 19th/early 20th century.

The show opens on Sunday with a reception and artist talk.

Turning Leaves: New Directions in Book Arts
Chandler Gallery, Randolph, VT
23 September – 10 November 2012
Reception with Artists’ Talk 4 – 6:30 PM 

I will also be showing Hope Blossoms: which is another mixed media book assemblage. This piece recently took 2nd place in the Juried show Books Unbound vol. 2 at the Artistree Gallery in Woodstock, VT.

sometimes what you are LOOKING at isn't what you are really SEEING

Sorry to say, I have been very neglectful of my blog as of late. I'll use the old excuse, I've can't seem to find the time. That would be the truth. You see, I've been busy in working on art these days. 26 hours a week, to be exact. (that's on top of the 40-50 hours a week I spend at the office.) Yes, I AM counting. The reason for this? I started graduate school last month and I am required to devote at least 20 hours a week to my studio practice. So, that's what I have been doing, besides trying to  figuring out how to balance it all: I've making art. If I haven't been making art, I've been reading about it, thinking about it and preparing to create it. Now, I'm writing about it! 

Why grad school you ask? I don't know.... I'm crazy... I guess, a glutton for punishment. I like school . (I know, I'm a dork.)  I completed my bachelor's almost 15 years ago. The MFA, has been taunting me, hanging out in the shadows for years, but the timing never felt right. Then, somehow, last year, good friend and mentor of mine, put the bug back in my ear. She told me about this lo-residency program at Vermont College of Fine Arts. I went and checked it out. I was totally sold. I decided that there was no time better than the present. I needed to dive in fast, before I got cold feet. I already had a strong studio practice. I told myself I that I was almost doing all the work already, so why not get credit for it. (Hmmm... not sure if that was an accurate assessment, but whatever.)  Now, I have found myself on this wild ride. Working with an artist teacher and developing study plans, reading essays and criticism about modern (and post modern art) and try lots of new ideas in the studio. 

So, readers, I ask your gentle patience. If you don't see a post every Sunday, as I was apt to do in the past, prod me, poke me, cajole me. I haven't gone too far away. I'm probably, just up to my elbows in gesso or glue and need to sharp reminder that I need to blog , to reconnect with the rest of the world. Let me know you need a little glimmering prize fix and I will share with you what's on the worktable or what books I have been reading. We can get through the next 2 years together. Learning more about who we are as artists and what we can offer the world!

How does that sound? Deal? 

Ok, here's the first installment. I have been working on ideas of containment. So continuing the the Rural Roots series, two new FINISHED pieces to share: The Little Things and Limits of the Visible.

Limits of visible (6"x3")

limits of visible (detail)

limits of visible (detail)

limits of visible (detail)

Little Things (19"x7")

Little Things (detail)

Little Things (detail)

Little Things (details)

And I will leave you with this thought about art (but you can apply it to almost everything in life)

Sometimes what you are LOOKING AT isn't what you are really SEEING.

NEW SERIES: RURAL ROOTS

Great Rebellion- Full View

The Great Rebellion- Detail

I am so excited about this new series of work that I started this weekend. I really have my free-cycler and fellow Etsian Lynn Findhold to thank for the barn board that led to these fantastic new pieces. She answered my call out into cyberspace last week, when I was looking for old wood and metal roofing. That's the beauty of FREECYCLE: One woman's trash is another's treasure. So, I went down to Hinesburg on Saturday to fill up the back of my little SAAB with great re-usable art materials. Lynn's chickens were quite excited to see me too.

I have been toying with this idea for quite a while. I have collected some great old rusted tools, locks and kitchen implements and I knew just a little worn, jagged wood would be the perfect foundation for the work. Vermont is full of a tremendous supply of inspiration and materials to make art. I love living here and very happy with the results of incorporating the old wood with paper and local artifacts.

Great Rebellion - Detail

At any rate, I finished these pieces this weekend. My quite mellow, 43rd birthday weekend, to be exact. I  am extremely grateful for the gift of un-interrupted studio and treasure hunting time my family gifted me. For the most part, these pieces are a departure for me, outside my safety zone; in size, composition, tone and materials. (And yes, I did not use any Van Dyke Brown whatsoever, go figure.)

Great Rebellion- side view

NH Primary- Full View

NH Primary- Detail

NH Primary - Detail

NH Primary- Detail

NH Primary - Detail

The Great Rebellion- 12"x6"x 4"

New Hampshire Primary 30"x 28"x 3 1/4"  

The Waif 7"x4" x 1 1/2".

The Waif- Full View

the Waif- Detail

What stories of a rural past would you create if you had some barn board to play with?

Weft and Warp

When you weave fabric on a loom, there are two distinct sets of yarns or threads that intersect at right angles to form the fabric or cloth. The longitudinal threads are call the warp and the lateral threads, the one's that fill in are called the weft.  
 
Most cloth that is used to make garments today is made on large industrial weaving machines, but if you ever have the opportunity to watch someone make fabric on a wooden loom you will find that there is something mesmerizing and calming about it. It is almost magical the way the colorful thread come together to create beautiful cloth.

A few years ago, when I was in Hanoi I stumbled upon a master silk weaver's workroom in a forgotten alley. The space he worked in seemed ancient and a mysterious. His deft hands at work on the looms, created not only beautiful cloth, but a rhythmic song as the shuttle moved across the threads and the frames opened and closed.  I was reminded today this stunning dance of colors when I sat down to write my weekly blog post.








We are 8 days into the new year and I already have so much on the calendar for 2012. I started to freak out a little on how I am going to keep it all together. Those of you who know me, know that life pours my glass pretty full. This year is no exception. First there is the combination of working full time and pursuing an art career part time. Sometimes the demands of my day job don't end at 5 pm or I find myself working on the other side of the world for weeks on end. Sometimes there are art deadlines that come up so fast that I end up working into the wee hours of the night or waking up before the dawn just to get things in on time. There is a balance, a dance that has to happen between the two parts of my occupational existence. Up until this point, I feel like I have been very successful at achieving a certain harmony there. 

The success comes not just from balancing the two aspects of the "working me." It is deeply rooted in the fact that in the fundamental fabric of my life, I am a wife and a mother. My family life is like the warp threads on the loom. They keep me together and are my foundation. The work is the weft threads, the fillers that add color and texture to my life. Woven together the two are stronger and create something far greater than a single thread. But each thread, each aspect of my life is important.

So, here I am on this gorgeous day in Vermont, lining up all the threads that will come together for this next year. My calendar is chock full of outing and new adventures, moments of contemplation and discovery, art, work, family and love. New threads that have been added to my already rich tapestry are: Graduate school, at Vermont College of Fine Arts, which starts on January 27th, A new website to be kicked off in February, Artfest12 in Port Townsend, WA in March. A trip with Jackson to NYC in April.... That's just the beginning.... 

To help keep this all in order, I have started the necessary January cleaning of my work space. Primarily, because I could not see the top of the work table or find the rusty bits I had been looking for. Secondarily, I just took down a show and I need space to store all the artwork not currently on display. And then lastly, I have received some requests for people to do "studio visits." The endeavor to make it a viable space to receive patrons, gallery curators and fellow artists in has commenced.  I joke with my husband about making the space "good enough" to be in "Where Women Create" magazine. His response is. It's were you create, so it's beautiful enough. 

The fabric of my (not-so) lazy Sunday afternoon  will be this: Jack and I will finish eating breakfast, take the dog on a long walk in the crisp clear light of this amazing January day and probably haul some wood. I will get to work back down in the basement, stoking the fire of the wood stove, painting backgrounds for new pieces and organizing my heart out.  Occasionally, coming up stairs to make some pizza dough, start Sunday dinner and maybe a soup to eat later in the week. 


 



Speaking of fabric... this is what's on my work table now. A new assemblage that's born out of barn board, old embroidery and a well worn quilt.

 

What threads are you weaving together today?

New Work: untitled

I love October and all of the harvest festivities that come long with it. Apple picking, raking the leaves, putting the garden to bed... it also means that ghouls and ghosts will be out in full force to celebrate Halloween. In our house we have many traditions associated with the season. The last couple of years, that tradition has come to include making a few pieces of art to put in the Art of Horror show at the S.P.A.C.E gallery.  I love this show. It's gory, spooky and completely unconventional. Putting work in this show helps me to stretch my mind and challenges my personal notions and ideas. When I finish working on pieces for this show, I always feel recharged and inspired about making art again. 

Yesterday, I put up photos of Poor Dolly, this new piece was conceived in my head the same day, way back in July. The doll came from the same lot of dolls are the decaying baby and the sled was oddly paired in a lot with the domed box I transformed into her cradle (someone today called it her coffin, yikes...I guess it does look like one, doesn't it.)

There was something about the velvet red dress and the doll's startled expression that seemed to work with the faded, broken sled.  So, tonight, I committed to the piece, did some gluing and screwing and pulled the whole thing together...

It makes me think about Edith Wharton's Ethan Frome. about sledding down the hill as a child, even past dusk when my mother had already told me told me several times to come and that it was too dangerous to stay out in the bitter cold. What are the consequences of simple pleasures?  Where is the point where thrill turns to folly? turns to disaster? is a life lived entirely in the "safety zone" really lived? 

All these questions percolate to the front of my mind, when i think about this new piece. The only thing I can't think of, that i can't come to terms with is a name... maybe you can help me title it....

what should it be called?

New Work:

Untitled

Assemblage from found objects: sled, doll, prayer book, shoe, bonnet, ribbon

45"x19"x9"