Just a head’s up: I am on the road, vacationing my way through Delaware, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania for the first week of the month. Due to limited computer access, I won’t be updating the blog, so my regular features will not be posted; Friday 5 will resume August 15 and modus operandi will resume August 19.
See you upon my return, with many photos and memories to share!
This modus operandi started out being about one thing, morphed into a second exploration, and ended up in far left field. If you include the subsequent “best laid plans gone awry” epiphany, I’d say it’s a grand slam!
Today’s subject was first inspired by the July/August issue of Somerset Studio, which includes a feature on art inspired by Provence. While enjoying the art, I also wondered who among the contributors had spent time in Provence and who was working from pure fantasy. I’ve seen similar showcases, of course, about Paris or New York City; obviously locations seen as romantic, thrilling, or remote can be an impetus to art, but I wondered what could be learned by looking closely instead at what is in front of us—our own states, neighborhoods, and homes.
I thought I might be on to something worth exploring further and started to consider a modus operandi about finding inspiration in your immediate surroundings, about seeing and valuing what is right in your backyard. Or, in my case, my front porch.
As a starting point, I took this photo of my front door. Unexciting, but I foresaw using it as the model or basis for some art making. I did sketches of the door, both from the photograph and the actual object, then created the following watercolor portrait of my door.
While I was painting this version, I spent some time thinking about the differences of working in watercolors versus acrylics:
This ongoing comparison whilst painting, led me to remember reading about watering down acrylic paints to get some of the same effects of watercolors and wondered how the techniques compared. I had some expectations of how things would work or differ, but no first-hand knowledge. Curiosity got the better of me, and I made a new version of my front door, this time using watered-down acrylics. I learned a lot about the properties of each type of paint by doing these back to back and by having the two final pieces to compare.
Looking at the two paintings side by side, I was distracted from my exploration of technique by wondering what else you could learn about your subject and your perception of it by tackling the same subject in a variety of media. By this point, I had some fairly typical representations of my front door: a photograph, sketches, a watercolor, and a acrylic painting with watercolor pretensions. I was sure I could go further. What about embroidery or fabric? I looked again at the door and thought about its blocks and realized it would be simple to recreate the effect with fabric. With some pieces from my scrap pile (a piece of upholstery fabric, remainders from a sarong and a veil, for the record), I abandoned recreating the exact photograph of the door and climbing vine and made this representation of the shapes of the door.
Where else can you take the subject? Just as I focused on the shapes in the fabric piecing above, what if I took only the colors into consideration? What if I wrote about this door, listing the people who had crossed its threshold or made a poem considering some aspect of it? What if I sang about my front door?
Obviously, this is where I realized I was out in far left field,* but even just exploring these ideas without executing them made me think differently about the door—just as sketching a squirt bottle earlier this month was a way to meditate on that object.
So, to summarize:
Thanks for reading!
* Really, I’m tone deaf, so the last thought was a good sign to stop!
(Note: This post is part of a series I am doing on my progress through Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way with a cadre of creative ladies. More info about this venture can be found in an earlier post and all of my related posts are under one category.)
Unbelievable. Have I really not posted about The Artist’s Way since week four? Yikes.
Week 5: Recovering a sense of possibility
I was really in tune with the messages of this week, feeling quite strongly that it’s immensely important to make time in life for the things you love. Not only is there an if-not-now-when? impetus, but I do believe these things refill our wells, recharge us, and empower us to do all things better.
I know I believe these things, but I still have to make the time. Walk the walk, as it were.
For week 5, I went to an art museum with my husband, and the trip had highs and lows. Overall, I think I learned an important lesson about making my artist’s dates solo endeavors. Even though it feels selfish, even though I like sharing so much with him, it’s important to have the time entirely to myself
List ten things you love and would love to do but are not allowed to do. (My excuses for why I’m not “allowed” to do these things is in parentheses and italicized.)
If I were 20 and had money…List five adventures.
If I were 65 and had money…
Week 6: Recovering a sense of abundance
This week was quite something. Though much of the chapter was about our understanding of and relationship to money, it was the work in the morning pages (“…write about the god you do believe in and the god you would like to believe in”) that was the true epiphany. While I was raised Roman Catholic, I identified as Wiccan/Pagan for more than a dozen years, my spirituality—the way I understood and celebrated the universe—dissolved with my mother’s cancer diagnosis in 2005.
Up until that point, I would attest, like many others, that my spirituality had helped me through rough times. ‘’Til then, I approached all adversity as a learning experience and felt the sum of my experiences, good and bad, had made me into the woman I wanted to be. With my mum’s cancer diagnosis, it was like an unspoken line had been crossed: Anything. But. That.
With the boundary crossed, it was like everything spiritual in my life turned to ash. From my morning pages:
That was my line. If that’s how the Universe works, I didn’t want to celebrate its flow, didn’t want to rejoice in its patterns and cycles. I became stingy with my spirit, like a child done wrong I picked up my toys and went home. Well, tried to—there’s no escaping the flow of the Universe, so even though I wasn’t interacting back, it still brought me gifts. Still gave me moments of magic and connection, even when I had no energy or interest.
I knew I had stopped interacting with my circle in Baltimore. I knew I hadn’t even acknowledged a solstice since then, but I hadn’t been able to discern what had happened to my spirituality…or, more honestly, I hadn’t even brought up the question to myself. But, through the morning pages, the entire thing was uncorked.
I found myself wondering, was I even Wiccan any more? I pulled down my Margot Adler, wondering if I needed to start entirely from scratch.
The world is holy. Nature is holy. The body is holy. Sexuality is holy. The mind is holy. The imagination is holy. You are holy.
A spiritual path that is not stagnant ultimately leads one to understanding one’s own divine nature. Thou art Goddess. Thou art God. Divinity is imminent in all nature. It is as much within you as without. (Margot Adler, Drawing Down the Moon)
I immediately pulled out my sketchbook and drew out those words, that amazing reminder of what my connection was to this universe. Not all of my questions and issues surrounding my spirituality are answered—When are they ever?—but at least I knew I still connected to those words, those values, that sense of the world.
I rewarded myself for the hard work of all that digging by another trip to a museum as my artist date, this time solo. I sketched in the galleries and studied some amazing techniques. I refilled my well.
Week 7: Recovering a sense of connection
Sometimes, in doing these chapters and tasks, I find one week to be a lot of work and quite difficult, but it is usually followed by an easier one. Not so here: Following up my hard personal research into my spirituality (or lack thereof) came some very hard lessons about perfectionism and risk. The former particularly hits me where I live: I want to do things perfectly, I want to do it right the first time, I want my efforts to amaze. Over and over, I have to remind myself that a perfectionist leads a very narrow and ultimately rigid existence.
This was also a week of “treats,” encouraged by the coursework; I bought myself a new purse, plus a new wallet and pencil bag to carry around inside said purse, and bought a DVD player for the studio, so I can continue to watch inspiring films and programs while I’m working in there (I’m steadily working my way through the PBS series art:21 and loving it).
Overall, despite my silence on the blog about the coursework, I’ve been steadily at it, working on my tasks and writing my morning pages (I estimate I get them done at least six days a week and usually every day).
Click on any of the photos to see a larger version or read a little description.
& we’re back! A little later than expected and a bit soggier, but modus operandi has returned. On to this week’s topic…
One of my favorite things about mixed media collage is, of course, the fanatical use of layers and the level of customization within each layer. Learning to do this requires a great deal of trial and error, with heaps of inspiration from the works of others. The latter worries me, though, and I try to be very alert to copying another artist’s idea or style in any of the works I exhibit or sell.
I’m learning, however, to use my art journal as a place free of those rules. It is, essentially, a private space, not a canvas meant to be hung on a wall or an ATC to be traded, which also makes it my favorite place to deconstruct the techniques of others and answer gnawing questions like “How’d they do that?” or “How do I get that look?” It’s a great place to follow tutorials or be inspired by prompts without serious regard for whether or not the finished product looks like mine…or Suzi Blu’s pages…or Linda Woods’ journal…or Da Vinci’s Codex (in 3-D! click the link!).
I remind myself—and maybe you need to, too—art students regularly learn by copying, reproducing works by masters in the sketchbooks or on the easel. You learn by doing, recreating the techniques of others to utilize, eventually, in your own way. It’s funny, I would have no problem whatsoever following a recipe by Martha Stewart, Jaden Hair, or a dozen other sources. I know the recipe is theirs, but the creation is my own, and I need to take that attitude with me into the studio. I need to keep the faith that my own style will emerge from my narrative, my tweaks, my resourcefulness.
Suzi Blu says, “My journal is a beautiful sacred place where I give myself permission to make the worst art imaginable.”
Inspired by her Art Journal Playshops on YouTube, I completed the first prompt. Suzi’s video:
My journal page (yes, the photo is of me!):
Use your journal without rules or boundaries, as a place for free exploration. Use it to learn what those other mixed media and art stars know and don’t make excuses for cribbing from their “recipes.”* We’re all learning!
* Though it should be obvious from everything that came before, I think it’s important to be explicit on this point: I am not condoning copying other people’s artwork, techniques or style for your own business. Don’t open up an Etsy shop and fill it with Poppets®; that’s illegal and unethical. However, if you were working your way through Claudine Hellmuth’s book Collage Discovery Workshop: Beyond the Unexpected, and your journal utilized her style and colors, don’t beat yourself up about it. That’s the point I’m trying to make.
Click on any of the photos to see a larger version or read a little description.