Category Archives: Inspiration

New Ventures

I was approached last Fall by Side Tour, company that has had great success in NYC promoting “experiences” and is now expanding into other cities including Seattle. They specifically wanted me to teach hand-dyed silk scarf workshops. At the time there was just too much going on to take on another thing (holidays!) and I wasn’t sure I wanted to teach short-term workshops. I much prefer teaching three or more day workshops where students can delve deeply into media and materials.

Honestly, I was also unsure about what direction I was going. It has been discouraging that after I put time and energy into creating a series of workshops at my studio that there has been so little response. It seems that I can do just about everything to make workshops happen except promote them. That last push to put myself out there is really, really hard. I don’t think I’m alone in this.

I’ve been questioning everything about my practice lately. What am I doing? Why am I doing it? The usual existential crises. I had a really great visit with an artist friend a couple weeks ago. We met to talk specifics about how to present 2-d fiber works as finished products but ended up discussing much, much more. Why was I stopping myself from exploring new media? What feeds me creatively? What do I want to do/make? It was the kick in the butt I needed and I’ve been thinking long and hard since then.

At first I thought, “I need to stop everything else I’m doing and just dedicate myself to being in the studio.” No teaching. No sales. No self-imposed rules and regulations. Just me, the space, the time and materials to make something happen.

But the more I thought about it the more I realized that I am a social creature. I need to talk to people. I love to teach and am inspired by my students. And here was Side Tour asking to promote me! They take a cut, of course, but they are set up to do the part of the process that is so hard for me.

So, I agreed to do four workshops for Side Tour in early March and I’ve signed up to take a monotype class at Pratt! I’ll also be selling my hand-dyed fabrics and silk scarves at Stashfest, a benefit for the La Conner Quilt Museum in April. I’ll be promoting both the classes and the sale here and on Facebook as we get closer.

And I’ve started a series of new work! I guess that kick in the ass was what I needed to get me going!

Getting Past Resistance

Happy New Year!

I feel like I’ve been getting in my own way for months now. So I’m starting out the new year by visiting the past.

Since I haven’t known where to start, I’ve been looking at my old sketchbooks as a springboard for ideas. Some of the drawings are from as far back as 2009, but for whatever reason, never got developed. It’s reassuring that there’s plenty of richness there still. Many pages are now marked with a thicket of post-its, and once I started drawing from my old drawings, new ideas came bounding out of the end of my pencil.

I also wanted to get messy in the studio, to get my hands on materials. And, boy did I make a mess! I went through my stash of hand-dyes and pulled out some pieces that had only been dyed once, either low-water immersion or painted, that I thought could be improved by adding another layer. I slathered a thick paste of flour and water to create a resist on a dozen pieces, let them dry over a couple of days, and then applied thickened dye.

I haven’t had a chance to wash them out yet because I came down with a nasty head cold. After three brain-dead days in bed, I finally awoke this morning with a clear head. Tomorrow is laundry day, always a messy one when it comes to working with flour.

Check back for images of the newly dyed fabrics in the next couple days. I can’t wait to share them.

drawing into the wet flour paste on LWI unbleached muslin

applying thickened dye paste over the dried and cracked flour paste

lines of flour applied with a squeeze bottle on a silk crepe

fabric after application of thickened dye

flour paste applied and then picked up with a doily

after thickened dye application

wrinkles in the flour paste were made by the dragging of the silk crepe during paste application

the dried and crackled flour paste makes a distinctive pattern

Even the Hummingbird Pauses

Here we are, poised on the edge of the new year. It’s a time for reflection, for taking a deep breath, looking back and looking forward.

It’s time for me to finally leave Playastan behind and move on to new work. I took a little time away from the holiday home scene yesterday to tidy up the studio. I have trouble moving forward with new work with the studio in disarray. The mess is for when I’m deep in projects, the detritus of progress building up on horizontal surfaces and amassing in drifts in the corners. For now, the surfaces are clear and ready for the next thing.

I’ve decided that the time is done for dithering around, wondering what to do next. I have the urge to make new work. It’s been too long since my hands manipulated materials, too long since I loosed both my creative and critical minds.

I spent some time yesterday looking through sketchbooks from as far back as 2009, marking drawings that have promise but haven’t been developed. Then did some drawing from those sketches, teasing out their essence, making marks and visualizing them as objects. Next week I’ll start building in three-dimensions, following the familiar road back to productivity. Now isn’t the time to reinvent myself and my work, it’s time to get busy.

Anna’s Hummingbirds visit my garden year-round, feeding on the flowers of the arbutus uneedo (Strawberry Tree) this time of year. They have been pretty quiet during the cold and wet weather we’ve been having. When the sun comes out they zoom about, feeding and warming themselves before the clouds move in again. I got a photo of this one resting in the sun in our cotinus coggygria, or Purple Smoke Bush. Even the hummingbird pauses, perhaps for a moment’s reflection, before whirring off into the future.

A Walk in the Park

maples at the Washington Park Arboretum

berries of the iris foetidus

Oh, the news. The bad, bad news out of Ferguson. It’s a gloomy day here in the northwest corner of the country; rainy and dark without much chance of clearing either in the skies or in the newspaper.

In this week of Thanksgiving, the differences between the haves and the have nots seems even starker. In our warm and comfortable home we are happy to have our older daughter home from college for the holiday. It’s such a joy to hear her excitement in what she’s studying, to see her embrace the life of the mind. At dinner I watch as she and her sister tease and laugh, sharing puns and the clever inside jokes of a lifetime raised together in a home with easy access to education.

a decaying gunnera leaf

Seattle is a segregated white city, and getting whiter and more segregated all the time. We are generally spared seeing overt images of racism in our day-to-day lives. Or maybe it’s just the blinders we are wearing as we go from task to task in our reliable cars to our well-paying jobs.

I had a rough time growing up. My parents divorced early. We were on welfare, got food stamps. I was ashamed to be on the free lunch program at school. My mother moved us from place to place, always thinking some place else was better than where she was. Her struggles with mental illness still color my experience.

the fruit of the medlar tree

But somehow I escaped those circumstances. Being smart helped. And being white helped, too. I got some higher education, (didn’t graduate but that’s another story), got some therapy, and remade my life. I met and married a wonderful man, had two beautiful, intelligent girls, and live a comfortable middle-class life. Not everyone is so lucky.

My younger daughter is taking American History in high school. Right now they are studying the Constitution, reading it and transcribing it into modern English. Last night, after hearing the news the the grand jury in Missouri had declined to indict Officer Darren Wilson in the death of MIchael Brown, she came to me as I folded laundry. She said she just couldn’t do her homework, that reading the Constitution was just too depressing. That those beliefs that our country is founded on still don’t apply to people of color. She’s right, of course.

Our lives are a walk in the park.

fallen leaf from a plane tree

Contrast and Complexity

My family recently took a trip to the Dungeness Spit on the Olympic Penninsula. We had traveled there in December and the house and location were so nice that we returned for another weekend with some friends. I love the dynamism of our coastline here and the contrast between the damp chilliness and winter light of the outdoors with the cozy warmth of the indoors. I always enjoy going new places and seeing new things, but there’s also a rich satisfaction in revisiting a beloved place in different seasons.

It was interesting to repeat the same walks I took a few months ago and observe that I noticed different things. In December, I had applied to the Bellevue Arts Museum’s Wood Biennial and was waiting to hear if I was accepted. (I wasn’t.) What caught my eye then was the forms of the driftwood, the way it was shaped and smoothed by the wind and waves into powerful, yet feminine forms. I was particularly intrigued by the way the hand of man was evident, the natural shapes bound with remnants of metal and rope. I published pictures from that trip in a blog post called Looking Forward, Looking Back.

On this trip, however, even though I traveled through the same landscape what caught my eye was different. I was drawn to those places where one world was contained inside another: a cluster of barnacles growing inside an empty clam shell, a tree growing up inside a boat abandoned on dry land, a view of the distant horizon through a hole in a driftwood log. Stones that were captured by the roots of a growing tree, long felled before it washed up on this shore, and yet still held strongly by the weathered wood. I’ve been working on a series of seedpods, each one filled with a world of translucent seeds, and that work was affecting the way I saw my environment.

I’m always somewhat aware that what I’m working on filters into the rest of my life and affects how I view the world. But traveling over the same paths at different times woke me up to just how much my interior thoughtscape affects my perception of the exterior landscape. As I walked along, I recognized the places I had been before, but I wasn’t pulled to observe and document them in the same intense way I had just a few months before.

I spent this past, rainy weekend doing an inventory of my art and then creating a spreadsheet of all the 3-d work I’ve made since 2008. I’ve put off this kind of administrative work for years. Not taking the time to get organized had added a lot of hours and frustration every time I had put in an application or proposal for an exhibition. Now all the information is in one place on my computer. It really wasn’t as onerous a task as I thought it would be and was actually kind of satisfying. It’s just another way that one world of complexity is be held inside another, only not nearly as pretty.

A New Page

Yesterday was my first work day in the studio in the new year. I’m currently thinking about the driftwood I saw on my trip to Dungeness and the color green. I bought some green acrylic inks and some paints to use for printing and spent yesterday working on paper. It’s a good way to loosen up. I can work very quickly and the materials aren’t expensive so I’m not as attached to an outcome. Here are some working shots.

Looking Forward, Looking Back

“I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes . . .
you’re Doing Something.”–Neil Gaiman

My family and I spent just spent two nights in a house near the Dungeness Spit in Sequim, Washington on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We had incredibly good weather for late December and enjoyed several long walks on the beach. It’s always good to get out of town and the unstructured time in a beautiful location gave me some time to look back over the past year and look ahead to the next.

2013 was a year filled with travel and shows. It was also a year filled with the challenge of moving my art studio. Reading through my blog of the last year I was surprised to be reminded of so many really great experiences when during most of the year I was consumed with anxiety about the move. Of course, it all worked out and now, at the beginning of 2014, I am poised to move forward in a really great space, both mentally and physically.

Some of the highlights of 2013 included:
• my solo show, Madrone, at Foster/White Gallery
• having my work at both Bellevue Arts Museum and in the opening exhibition of the Bainbridge Island Museum of Art
• installing Susurration in Bellevue as part of Shunpike’s Storefronts program
• being featured on the Daily Art Muse blog
• going to the SDA Conference in San Antonio
• writing two articles for the SDA Journal, both for 2014 issues
• developing new surface design techniques working with positive and negative imagery
• working with my terrific interns, Jesse and Annie
• designing and building my new kick-ass studio
• travel including big trips to Costa Rica, Paris, Hawaii, San Antonio, Burning Man
• smaller trips to Oregon Country Fair, Orcas Island, Tieton, Dungeness Spit
• witnessing my older daughter transition in her Senior year of high school into a beautiful, capable, college-bound woman

Right now 2014 is an open book with a few plans penciled in. I have a few group shows coming up with existing pieces. I have a proposal out for some new work that I’ll hear about in February. It looks like I’ll have a second intern for the Winter quarter. We’ll be traveling to the Southern tip of the Baja Peninsula in Mexico in February for some sunshine. Perhaps another trip for Spring Break in April and some college visits with my daughter.

Now that my studio is set up I’m excited to open it up as a teaching space. In the next few weeks I’ll be putting together a schedule of workshops. One of the benefits of having my own space is flexibility. Let me know if there’s something you’d like to study with me or want to set up independent or small group workshops. I’m planning on sending out a short survey to see what you would like to see offered.

And new work? Well, I’ve got a glimmer or two of that. I was inspired this last weekend by the trip to the Dungeness and the driftwood I found there. The shapes, the visual textures, and the rusted remnants of human touch left upon them spoke strongly to me as you can see here in images accompanying this post. I’m hoping to both expand my work in the picture plane and also get back to my free-standing sculptures.

Last year started with a laser sharp focus on making work for my solo show in March. This year, I’m easing in without much of a plan. It’s a little scary for me not to know, but I’m sitting with it. I have faith that doors will open, that the phone will ring, and the days will fill with adventures, community and creative pursuits.

In the coming year I wish you all creative challenges and hand-won satisfactions.

A Sense of Place

I spent this week finishing up my studio move. I had done all the heavy lifting, literally, and had a very nice Open House last weekend. This was more about unpacking the rest of the boxes that were stuffed under the tables and coming up with systems. I have hopefully bought my last plastic storage box and now have everything stashed away, yet accessible and clearly labeled.

Now that it’s all organized I’m going to take everything out from under the printing table so that I can paint it and pad the printing surface. I was originally thinking that I’d paint it white but now am leaning toward a light gray, just to ground it and make the inevitable splatters less obvious.

I also moved in the last van load of stuff yesterday. Phen, the owner of Foster/White Gallery where I show, had offered me some things for the studio that came from Alden Mason’s last apartment. Foster/White had represented Alden for many years and Phen, and the other employees there, were a big part of his life. They helped him move, drove him to events and openings, and were supportive way beyond the usual relationship between a gallery and artist.

I’ve always felt a connection with Alden Mason, probably because of the shared last name, but I started paying attention to his work long before I started making art. Being represented by the same gallery, getting to meet the artist, hear some of his stories, and sharing a table at the Gallery’s holiday parties were special. It’s not often we get to meet living legends and Alden was always so full of life, even as it was clear that his was near its end.

It makes me happy to have a few things from Alden’s studio in my studio: a wooden ladder, a metal stool, some fans, and a very comfortable wicker chair. They are all well used and have touches of paint from his hand. I also still have and use silk screens that I got from Su Job’s estate, a vibrant fabric artist that passed on a few years ago. These objects, pedestrian as they are, give me a sense of history and continuity and the feeling that I am part of something larger. Using them is a way of honoring those that have come before me, a way to keep their memories active and alive. Their presence in my new studio is part of its becoming more than a numbered room down a hall. It is part of its sense of place, a place to create.

Alden’s chair

Change is Good, Remember?

First, don’t worry, this story has a happy ending.

Last Friday, I arrived at my new studio building to pick up the keys to my studio space. In my car, I had an 8-foot-ladder and supplies to start mudding and taping the drywall. I had arranged a small celebration in the space that night with some of my closest friends to show it off and drink a toast to new beginnings. My landlord texted me that he wanted to talk–I figured it was about the electrical work.

Nope, not electrical.

Turns out that he actually wanted my space for his studio and wasn’t sure that he would renew my lease if we went forward with it. He was telling me now because he knew I was about to put money into installing a sink and having furniture made for the space. He offered to exchange my space for any one in the building that was available, even a larger size for the same money, plus he would pay to install my sink. He told me he had never done this in 20 years of leasing spaces to artists, but that for a number of reasons, he really wanted the space he had leased to me.

I was pretty stunned and disappointed. I had already moved in to the space in my mind, arranged all the furniture, imagined the work I would do there and the classes I would teach. But still, I respected him for telling the truth and trying to make it right. I could choose to stand by my lease, but I would never feel secure about putting time and money into the studio, knowing that I might have to leave in 12 months. Plus, I’d have an unhappy landlord working down the hall from me. Once I got over the shock, I realized that it made more sense to be flexible and figure out something worked for both of us.

We spent some time looking at the available spaces. My husband left work to come over and help figure it out. Turns out that the space we settled on will be even better for me than the original, I think. Ironically, it’s the one I wanted when I first looked at the building.

The new space is a little smaller (and cheaper–which is very nice) than the first one but still, at 20 by 30 feet, the 600 square foot space I wanted. This one has walls that go all the way to ceiling, which will give me more privacy and sound insulation. Plus, I’ll have my own heater with my own thermostat. I have a nice, big, North facing window that I can open. The view of the gasket factory storage yard next store is pretty industrial, but I can also see the Bardahl Oil sign, a Ballard landmark. Plus, I don’t have to pay to get my sink and hot water heater installed, which will save me a couple thousand dollars!

It’s really a win/win situation.

So now I’ve got my graph paper floor plan out again trying to figure out a plan for the space. I don’t think I’m going to have room for that 14-foot-print table, after all. But I can make ten-foot-table work, which is still four feet more than I had before. There will still be plenty of wall space, a great location, and a community of artists. I’ll have to wait just a little bit longer to get into the space, but it’s a happy ending and another lesson that change is good.

Change is Good?

My big news, which I’ve actually known since February, is that I’m going to move my studio. My studio-mates who own the building I’ve been in for over 10 years are building studios at their home and selling the studio. For a while my husband and I were looking at buying the building and keeping it as artist studios. But, unfortunately, the numbers just didn’t pencil out and it would have been a money-losing venture. It just doesn’t make financial sense. We found out right before we left for Burning Man that it wasn’t going to work out. I was sad but at least it was settled after seven months of being in limbo.

I’ve been pretty anxious about moving my studio because I don’t do change well. I’m relearning that I need a lot of security to be creative. So much of what I’m able to do is because my wonderful husband is there to support me–financially, sure, but also emotionally. Without going in to detail, I had a pretty difficult home life as a kid. Even though I’ve done my therapy and don’t like to dwell on the past, it’s still part of who I am. And having my safe and secure little studio taken away has shaken me up and taken me back to that little girl growing up without stability or control.

It’s a difficult place to make art from. The good thing is that I’ve been able to recognize these connections to my past and that takes away some of the anxiety. Going to Burning Man was really good for me, too. It’s was inspiring to see large-scale and ambitious artworks come to fruition in that harsh and unforgiving environment. I was also inspired by the open hearts and minds of the community of Burners. And the desert gave me the mental space to put things into perspective.

I came back to Seattle motivated to find a new space. It feels good to take control of my environment. To refine what it is that I need and want in a space to create. And to have Faith that it’s out there. When I would talk to friends about what was happening they often said things like, “Change is good,” and, “It’s all happening for a reason,” and other annoying West Coast platitudes. Yes, all that is true but it didn’t help me feel any better at the time.

Now I’m taking this time of change to open up my work, to expand my process, to experiment and mess around, to explore without the pressure of deadlines or a show coming up. I don’t have to be perfect and neither does my work. I do have Faith, now, that this change is positive, an opportunity to grow as an artist and as a person, to push myself past the safety zone. I can brave the center of the Char Wash, an art installation at Burning Man, with flame throwers spinning around me and not get burned.

Perhaps my next space will be a perfect place to work. Or maybe not. But whichever way, I can always make a change.