This is the piece I showed at the Art Guild Annual Members Exhibit. Glimmering Girl. Found metal objects, hand-stitched cotton thread, mono printed torn and cut paper collage, 8 x 10 inches
Here’s a closeup peek at the piece I’m working on now. The patinas and colors are so luscious. I’ve been collecting the found bits for years, and the process of messing around assembling them into beings is enjoyable. Something wants to emerge.
In the monthly discussion group I attend, we decided to exchange Artist Trading Cards. Fun to make, pulling out all the old scrap materials, and working small and fast.
So fun that I decided to do the backs as well. And afterwards, I was moved to tidy up and get rid of so many bits and pieces and better organize what remains.
Sharp Park winter sun beach walk, high tide, storm clouds gathering
Not gonna lie, fifty 6×6-inch panels is a lot of eventual individual artworks to make in as many days. Priming and sanding them all was a good way to ease into the enormity.
Border panel work-in-progress
I eventually got into a kind of rhythm of creation, with a set of steps and best practices. Iteration is a great way to really explore the geometric relationships with color and balance. (Amusing, too, as I rejected placements that looked like butts or boobs, although the occasional egg yolk or eyeball were okay.) Every single panel was a surprise, and interesting to see through to its completion. Somewhere after panel 25 or so, I gained trust in the process and my ability. Flow state increased in onset and duration.
Playing with arrangements, checking in with what works
Periodically, I’d lay out the work to date on some inadequate surface and just look, to see what I could see, and use the insight or finding on the next piece.
Of course I had help if I laid them out on the floor.Studio Assistant and First Buddy Mateo
Tater has a large flat box on the ell of my desk in which he lounges and naps, etc., while I work. In the process of sorting and packaging the finished panels for transport to the gallery, I took his large box and replaced it with a smaller one — just temporarily! — and he was not at all having it.
Lastly! The lavender is abloom here in foggy, mizzling Pacifica. There are about 20 bees of various species on the job, on this plant alone, and the scent is divine. I sit on the retaining wall and just breathe.
Earlier this month I was delighted/surprised to be accepted to the 17th Annual Sanchez Art Center 50|50 Show, in which 50 artists complete 50 small works in 50 days. (I’ll just let that sink in a bit. It’s both a lot and a little at the same time.)
Maxine surveys the new mayhem on the studio table
In the weeks leading up to the call for entries, I worked on ideas for proof of concept — Can I do fifty of this? Is it sufficiently interesting and compelling? Will I wish I was never born? I finally arrived at an exploration of abstract geometric collage — well suited to the size and scale of the project and of deep historical and personal significance. Working through a dozen or so test pieces, I refined my materials and techniques until I heard that still, small voice announcing, “Yes, this is good. You can do this.”
Prototypes in progress, solid, printed and found papers on handmade lokta
Then, I had to write the dread Artist’s Statement — a standard part of any entry process — and one of the most challenging things I’ve ever had to do. I made it excruciating, but! I persevered. Here’s what I arrived at (in fear and loathing) as the submission deadline was approaching:
“Constructed with awareness, but not with calculation, led by high intuition, and brought to harmony and rhythm.” — Piet Mondrian, 1916 Awareness, intuition, harmony, rhythm… How many ways can circles, squares and triangles be assembled to create compositions that flow, balance and fit in the space allowed? In these collage works, cut papers — color, mono printed and found — are manipulated and arranged to create balanced, rhythmic patterns and correspondences that please and satisfy our curious pattern-seeking sensibilities. In exploring abstract geometric collage, evidence of the — my! — maker’s hand is evident in tiny misalignments; they are forgiven and unintentionally lend an animation to the work. When multiple compositions are hung together, new patterns emerge. Possibilities remain endless.
Once I got over myself and that hurdle, I realized two things: first, artist statements are not carved in stone for all eternity and can and should be revised at will, at any time. Second, I’m pretty sure most people are not as mean, judgmental or paralyzing as my inner critic. And so, merrily, we rolled along.
Front deck setup for panel priming, ten at a timeA new LED light pad makes accurate placement possible
Wish me luck, inspiration and endurance, friends! These panels are (thus far) fun and satisfying to build! They make your eyes dance (in a good way)! The show opens Friday, 05 September, and runs through Sunday, 05 October. If you’re in the SF Bay Area, do consider stopping by the Sanchez Art Center to enjoy this exhibition of 50 artists’ works!
This piece started out last year as a foray into something else entirely, and sat in limbo a liminal state for months.
On the way, somewhere
It became a deep blue-green painted background for an exploration of printed and cut papers in bubble patterns.
Going for a more backgroundy thing?
I worked mindfully, attentively, listening, conjuring beginner’s mind, getting discouraged. Small amoeba shapes — a recurring interest for me — were cut and added, to no avail. The piece and I were lost. It sat on the easel, sometimes covered by other projects, and became studio background. I studied, read a lot of art books, went to the Museum. And then, one day it occurred to me to add large lumpy amoeba shapes cut from thin tissue. I liked it! Then I saw they needed white dotted patches, and dot dot dot, a background was complete.
Closeup of one of the original background amoeba and bubble shapes, and subsequent layers
Ideas came regularly after that, and we were ON. The seaweed fronds and more bubbles! were cut from sheets of stamped, printed and painted tissue papers I keep readymade in stock. It was all cut, paste, consider, a bubble here, a bubble there, from there on.
I’ve learned so much from this piece — mostly what-not-to-do’s — and I’m satisfied to call it done. I can even look at it and smile, and feel like I’m another step along the way to competence. SO good.
Memory of a Grid. Posca dots and punch-cut asterisks, painted tissue paper, found paper, 10×10 inches
I’m learning to come back to a piece and listen.
These are offcuts from a later collage, and proved to be missing parts for the Grid Memory composition. See if you can spot them in the finished piece! Also beautiful in their own right.This one, made in early October, was a surprise winter holiday card, 4.5 x 6 inches
I was getting frustrated with my results and overwhelmed with choices working at larger sizes. I found freedom in smaller sizes and more rapid iteration.
Snippet. Screen-printed/painted tissue papers, 5 x 7 inches
And I also found freedom and joy in slicing up the larger unsuccessful pieces for the smaller compositions, like this snippet. It’s empowering to deconstruct a work that’s just not. Or just throwing! it! away!
Crazy, beautiful collage cat Maxine (actual photograph, not a collage, real cat)
(Just realized there’s not nearly enough cat pictures in this post)
Cheers to you all, and best of vision in all your endeavors
Thanks for reading along and feeling my pain in adult learning and artistic expression. May your winter holidays be loving and bright, full of good coffee and rational and/or goofy conversation and companionship. 2025 coming right up!
Mostly a lot of standing and staring, and getting distracted going through the many bins of collected miniature treasure, but I’ve constructed my dream standing-height work surface along the back wall, and assembled a pair of paper storage units from Melvins Miniatures, very satisfying. Alpha Stamps has a set of mini rulers and triangles that make the work surface more functional and desky. Having fun printing out scaled versions of my collages and mounting them on boards to hang and/or display on an easel. Adorable! The exquisite leather cowboy boots are vintage, handmade way before everything was 3D printed; sadly artist unknown to me. One of my paper bags serves as a temporary trash bin. (I’ll have to throw a lot of paper scraps on the floor around it for realism.) The pumpkins are one of the first miniature things I ever made that I was happy with, from wads of plastic film bound tightly with thread and covered in small shreds of tissue paper and acrylic medium. Potted yuccas and succulents are production samples from the MMS+S kit days, all in Braxton Payne terra cotta pots. And the vintage Kunstlerschutz Wagner flocked pig is an old dear friend who’s come to live in the studio to keep us all company.
Well this is exciting! Studio Inki is moving into the old Sea House Leadlights building. (Leadlights needed more space and moved into the imaginary milking barn near the Warming Hut.) Interior design planning is in process, and will feature an open concept to maximize the abundant natural light and epic views. The famous Leadlights-designed windows and doors will remain. “I still really love them,” enthused the new owner.
At this point, the adobe and brick fireplace on the side deck will remain largely unchanged, aside from a thorough cleaning and new limewash. I’m very looking forward to actually completing the set of Kris Compas estate chair kits with the Pescadero thrift store dress fabric upholstery… very Studio Inki.
nancyland.com 