Reflecting on the Sparks

Listening and talking is a stimulus for writing and drawing. I like drawing in the morning when I write in my journal, or during morning meetings while having coffee. 

There is something freeing about working on cardboard with oil paint. Ultimately, it all begins with an unconscious sketch, it’s more like a feeling or a processing of the conversation – or maybe even a way to move my energy. My body needs to move it through, especially when it doesn’t quite have words. 

I like that my notes and drawings coexist. Often the final painting is far removed from the context of origin.

For instance, this painting I made from my journal doodle is fluid and organic and soothing – something sparkling and alive in a way that is pulsing and natural. Yet, the initial drawing emerged from a conversation having to do with the destructive (fatal) results of addiction. 

I began doodling probably to sit with and process these three facts:

2014 my sister died [overdose of opioids]

2015 my boyfriend (Oh Joe! – I moved to San Francisco with him in 1989, and I left him because of his drinking in San Francisco in 1991) died [liver failure]

2019 my brother died [drug overdose – I don’t know the details]

sulforaphane: a compound found in vegetables like broccoli and kale that neutralizes toxins and helps to ease inflammation

I don’t know what the quote says completely, but I am guessing it has to do with “living in a toxic environment  . . . [is a serious] problem.” Dr Dale so-and-so

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Out of this drawing, this journal scribbling, came this painting!

Frisson

Oil on Cardboard
20.5″ x 28.5″

Feeling Paint

I treated the media as if it were wood panel. I sized the cardboard with clear gesso which gave it a toothy feeling, a texture like fine granules or traditional rabbit skin glue. The studio was hot, sun beaming through the sky lights – paint slightly melted like butter. 

The smooth slipperiness of the paint was like flowing on silk. The sketch was all about lines and shape, I found myself pushing and pulling what forces I imagined might create the shape. Moving the paint in long slow strokes what pleasurable, calming, meditative.

When I stood back to look with some distance, the piece seemed to pulse despite the placid making of it.

Schedule

Another factor that allowed me to relax with this work is the schedule I created in which to produce art. I allow myself a certain amount of time every day in which to make art, no more and no less. It is a focused period for creating visual work (writing and making music are not included in this).

I have been working on a large long-term project since September, 2022. I predict it will take another nine months to a year to complete. It had been my main focus for months. I starting feeling lopsided looking so far out into the future. I now toggle days between long-term projects and more short-term, immediate projects.

Switching up helps me feel closer to balance – like I am giving my visual creative urges voice and also not putting too much pressure on any one project.

I feel a lot more relaxed. If all I can do is stare at a piece for three hours because it’s on the schedule to work on that piece – that is the work.

Looking. Sometimes looking is the work. 

I spent time looking at this painting in my every day world before completing it. 

Dance Before Paint!

And sometimes, dancing is the very important prelude to the work. 

Process

After I painted the gills, I had to go back in and paint another layer. I am grateful I went in and played with the detail.

Detail

Summer Daze

As I write this, my schedule has been once again shifted. At the moment I am in upstate New York, pet sitting and getting country living time. And working small jobs for people. Building community. Spending time with Mom while I can. And creating as much as I can, too – even with my schedule a little lopsided right now. 

Thank you for reading. 

May your days be filled with love, peace, and miracles.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

June 2, 2023
Woodstock, New York

To just look at this painting, go here.