2020~Something Polymorphous This Way Comes (Art in the Time of COVID Pandemic)

Step 1 and 2 spontaneous mark-making with watercolor crayon (black and ochre) layered with matte medium to stabilize.

2020~Something Polymorphous This Way Comes 

24"x18" watercolor crayon, matte medium, acrylic on canvas

My intention when I began this painting was to make marks with the watercolor crayon and to honor them when I added paint. I challenged myself to be as spontaneous as possible (mostly because I've been missing spontaneity in my life during these lock down days). I promised this painting that I would work quickly and in whatever way it told me to work. 

My initial marks were the tower on the left that began as asemic writing. Tower completed, I moved the crayon across the top and down the right side. When I went in with a paintbrush to add the matte medium to stabilize the watercolor crayon marks, the black and ochre smeared and came onto the brush, into the medium, and became part of the new marks as I moved down the tower of writing. I knew it would smear, so I took enough time with this part of the process to notice how that happened and what could come of it--how the original marks changed, were enhanced or slightly disappeared.

Then came the adding of the colors. Admittedly, I'm really into blue and orange these days, so they dominate. I was also wanting to mix the blue and orange on the canvas to reach an appreciative brown. I'm satisfied with that. I have purchased some cadmium free yellows and red (Utrecht from Blick) to play with and used these freely in the creation of the shades of orange. I applied the acrylic paint using my fake chamois. It's almost as if the paint could dissolve away with the change of the wind or water. I rather appreciate the effect this had on the canvas and in the composition.

In the end, this painting made me laugh. And then I struggled with the title. I could see a reference to the local marina where I had been a couple of days before beginning the painting, the mountains in the distance, the dock, the wabi sabi of the abandoned vessels, the water, the beautiful colors and shapes of the oil slicks on the water (in spite of their environmentally ickiness). 

But I wondered at what that creature/thing was at the top center of the painting, that thing that's leaning in and placing/removing one of the bits. I wondered at what was moving in toward the tower...was it a good thing...was it a bad thing...was it just a thing...another variable to be dealt with? Then I thought of a line from Shakespeare's "Macbeth": "By the pricking of my thumbs/Something wicked this way comes." And I started to laugh--as much as finishing my painting made me laugh. "This is like 2020," I thought. Then I became somber about it all: We did not see this coming at this point in time, along with everything else that we've got going on (if you're paying attention, you know what I'm talking about). So I changed Shakespeare's line a bit and exchanged "Polymorphous" for "wicked." It's a horrible, multi-dimensional, shape-shifting thing that has come our way. So much loss of life, of loved ones, of ways of life, ways of being. Resources stretched to limits. Societal contracts broken. 

And that's just the beginning...

Still Being~Being Still Series and ferox virago (Art in the time of COVID pandemic)

(no longer in inventory)

Still Being~Being Still 1, 2, 3

Acrylic on canvas w Posca pen, each 9"x6"

During our time of attempting to stay physically healthy during the pandemic by hunkering down in our living spaces, I and so many of my artist friends, found ourselves challenged to find ways to continue creative expression while so many other thoughts and emotions were inhabiting our beings. Finally, after days and perhaps weeks of distraction, I broke through and into my creative expression by getting out my sketchbook and drawing ancient symbols onto the pages. In one of my researches of symbols, I found a Goddess Against Disease*

This goddess, as well as symbols for stillness, world spirit, scarab, spiral, were drawn into the paintings that I was finally able to create. I had originally intended that these marks be suggestions of what might be found in cave drawings, so that the paintings were to give us a sense of place outside the cave with a glimpse of what's inside the cave. It was only later, while looking at the formations of the outsides of the caves, that I realized that these were actually self-portraits--my head and depictions of my being during this time. They reflect my concern for not only humanity across the globe, but also for the thriving of and connectedness of our humanity. 

I had been looking back at expressions of earlier cultures and was placing myself into their connectedness at the same time of trying to stay present to the currents swirling in our world at this time. While ancient cultures expressed their values via cave drawings and rock drawings, in today's culture, we were on social media reaching out to stay connected, sharing our humor, our fears, our bringing of our creative spirits to make sense of how our instability/stability were being exposed. Ultimately, this series is about holding space for connectedness of past to present to future, holding space for contemplation, holding space for being.

*Originally, I gave thanks to the North American tribes who gave us "Unkatahe, Goddess Against Disease" as I used her in my art. Later, I thought it best to create my own symbol for protection. Hence, "ferox virago" Latin, meaning fierce female warrior

I use "female" here as acknowledgement of the Divine feminine, accessible to all, rather than as a delineating reference to gender. ferox virago carries the symbols of the downward pointing triangle, circle, spiral (in beginnings are endings; in endings are beginnings), stillness, world spirit, scarab (eternity), water, and the turtle (longevity, perseverance) as familiar, at the crown, powerful, spiral pronged antlers, all solidly balanced on pointed hooves. I drew her often on subsequent days, drew her on rocks, posted her on social media, imbuing her and she me with sustainable energy of being.

It's an Ancient Conversation~Dona Nobis Pacem (Grant Us Peace)

Mixed media on canvas with acrylic 30"x24" (No longer in inventory)

Somehow, this painting became about the elements: fire, water, earth, air. I saw the potential of conflict between two beings engulfed in and separated by these elements. Somehow, a spirit guide emerged, possibly the one who could grant the requested peace. And somehow, after much, much grappling with truth and spontaneity and their consequences, this painting finished itself. The only thing I intended when I began was to have that block in the lower left represent ancient text (a created element that I've since learned is called asemic writing). Somehow, in some abstract way, that block of text explains the ancient conversation. But we know that conversation if we just listen--throughout the ages, it's been churning below and sometimes above, an ultimate yearning to be granted peace...

Ascension Descension Rumination

(Completed re-working foreground 9/2023--no longer muddy under any lighting situation. I feel like I can breathe when looking at it now.)

(7/2023 Determined to be too dark and muddy in the foreground in some lights, so re-worked.)

(I've decided this painting is unresolved and am working on it still)

24"x12" mixed media with acrylic on canvas (and detail photo)

I was still experimenting with texturing media here, trying to decide to purchase more gesso or more gel, so, for this one, I mixed gesso with lightweight spackle, applied it to the canvas and used mark-making tools. After letting it dry, I was concerned that, since I had used so much spackle, the surface would be too absorbent and would crumble if I used a lot of water in my painting process, which I sometimes do. So I decided to cover the surface with gesso and applied it with a fake chamois cloth in order to avoid brush strokes on the surface. The result of adding a dark layer of paint first shows in the detail photo--an effect I rather like--the dark with the lighter colors applied on the top. 

The other idea I was playing with in this composition was the idea of vertical text on the left side of the painting--painted blue green. Whether it translates as text to the view or not would depend upon the viewer's experience with Asian art, maybe. Or I suppose it could be seen as some part of the structure or a form in the background. I was curious about the interaction between the forms above and a bit to the right of the staircase-like structure (there are so often stairs). And that was the impetus for the title. Are we going up together or down together, or are the above and the below forms crossing paths as they move from one plane to the other? Is strength being transmitted from one form to the other? Is this communicating tension?

The Stone's Throw

Triptych 15"x5" total (each is 5"x5") mixed media and acrylic on canvas

Still experimenting with mediums for creating texture, I mixed super heavy gesso with spackle. And I used a pretty cool looking rock for inspiration. It was about two inches in diameter and had the blue-green and rusty colors with white in it. The piece in the middle of this triptych had a little more spackle than gesso in the mix. I liked the texture for the way the marks turned out and the graininess, but if I had to rub the surface for manipulating the paint or bringing back the light in the composition, then the texture would also be compromised. It was a much more protected surface with more gesso in the mix--which the bottom canvas has. But in that one, the paint was accepted onto the surface differently: more spackle, more paint absorption and a more stone texture, too. I'm curious about the longevity of the mixed medium.

At the Cave Ruins

(no longer in inventory)

12"x12" acrylic on canvas 

I am experimenting with acrylic mediums for creating textures. Since expense is an issue, I'm trying to decide, after the success of The World Split Open, if I should continue to use thickly applied gesso as my base for deep mark-making or if I should continue to use my gel/spackling mixture. Since I'm nearly out of both, I'm trying to decide whether to buy a gallon of gesso or a gallon of gel. And then, I discovered Liquitex Super Heavy Gesso--Yay. One more variable added into the decision-making mix. 

So I've used the super heavy gesso for the textural foundation in this piece. Mark-making in this medium sometimes created thin ridges that reminded me somewhat of a putty-like texture. Painting with washes was fine on this. I also found that I could scrub paint off of the top surface using my fake chamois. As a result, I found myself wondering if maybe I would purchase a gallon of the super heavy gesso.

The Tools of the Sketchbook Project Work

Recording this so I don't forget:

Tools of Techno-Textures that I used for rubbings and stampings are pictured below:

buttons from a fax machine, the casing for Apple earbuds.

some kind of wooden embellishment purchased from a craft store

fax machine cover (one of my favorite mark-making tools)

Char-kole, white pastel, watercolor crayons, acrylic Quinacridone Nickel/Azo Gold

rust dust (formerly rust soup made to soak metal items in so that they catch the rust and get started on their rusting process, but then all of the soupy evaporated, leaving dust and a very cool pattern--it's a mystery to me.

I also used matte medium for collaging and for sealing some parts of the work.

Meditation on Somatic Memory (title later changed to "The World Split Open" when this became number 1 in a series--no longer in inventory)
36"x24" Acrylic on canvas

I've been living with this painting for a few weeks now. I've deemed it finished. I don't see any light or dark places that stop my movement within the painting. And all of the forms that I see change. A couple of days ago, I saw Captain Kangaroo in there. I told myself, "If he's still there tomorrow, he will have to go." But I couldn't find him again.

The process was to lay down a think layer of gesso, not particularly even throughout the canvas, and then to stamp into the gesso. So I used a spiral shaped plastic piece I have, the fax cover that I've used in charcoal drawings and another painting in the past--that's responsible for the marks in the bottom section of the painting. And I used a rectangular tool with the idea to make more architectural representations, buildings maybe. In the end, I put three skewers in my hand, spread unevenly, and dragged them squiggly through random parts of the composition. When I left the painting to let the gesso dry, I could see some of the marks softening into each other. I had mixed feelings about that. And then, after the gesso had dried, there were lots of popped air-bubble holes, and in general, there seemed like a lot of busy-ness at the bottom of the composition. To create that had been my original intention--I wanted a lot to be happening down there--but seeing it? I had mixed feelings.

But I moved forward, confident at this point that I'd resolve any of those issues by working it more. Moving forward meant moving the dark into the low-lying places. I sprayed the painting with my water bottle, getting it really wet, and floated in the perfect grey (black made from the primaries). I was unhappy with splotches of paint that didn't float, but if I tried moving them, that changed what was happening in other unsatisfactory ways. So I walked away to let it dry.

When I came back to the dry painting, I could see where I needed to add more dark and more light and tried working with splotches and air holes. I could see places where some of the red, violet, and very subtle blue-green had pulled out of the perfect grey I had mixed. I made the decision then to have that be my "only" color.

When I started adding more dark in, using my fake chamois, I could see how the paint moved on the gessoed areas and loved the forms that were emerging. That there are human forms for me, quirky animals, creatures from "Labyrinth," the form that changes from elephant head to scary profile to haunch and body of a fearsome cat, ladders to who knows where, collapsing structures, and the occasional Captain Kangaroo make this more meaningful for me. It seems dreamlike and as if I were glimpsing into a lifetime of things experienced, observed, and fancied. It seemed as if the outer wall were carved away or destroyed so that what is revealed is the inner-scape.

Two things then happened to help me understand the painting and make peace with my media. My daughter and I were having a conversation about cellular memory (she said this has nothing to do with your cell phone plan). We were talking about babies and what they recall. Events may not be in their conscious memory but stored in cellular memory--it's our somatic memory. I thought about how I'd been thinking about the bottom part of the painting as cells and veiny kinds of structures. And how some of the forms had made me think about the creatures that live under your bed so that you don't dare stick your foot out of the covers as you sleep--no matter that you live in Phoenix, it's 112 degrees, and you only have evap cooling, you still have to sleep covered up. All that's in the painting. It holds somatic memory. There's places of birthing and of languishing, there are guides and demons, efforts to reach new heights and places of respite from the climb, and the screaming being will forever be a part of this, as will the form that holds their hand out in offering. That's somatic memory. From that came the title.

But I was still cranky about the air holes in the white and the mottled of some of the dark. I went over some air holes with more gesso. But decided that leaving some added to an erosion kind of effect. I evened out some of the mottled grey in the low places. But I still wasn't sure about that effect. Then a friend who was traveling in Ireland posted some pictures of some of the rock formations at Burren National Park. I gasped when seeing her images. She said she had thought of me when she posted the pictures. The aged stones, the grass growing between them, reminded us both of my work. But in the detail of that, what I noticed finally, the rocks were mottled grey! Peace made.

I feel as though everything I've been doing as an artist has led to this painting. I'm excited and, yes, a little scared about what comes next...