{the confidence of a brush stroke}

It's always interesting to me to watch someone new at painting work on a canvas or journal page. Their brush strokes are always short and hesitant, as if they've never held a brush before (and perhaps they haven't!). There isn't much confidence; in fact, uncertainty dictates their movements. 

The same can be applied to how much water one gathers on their brush. A lot? A little? How do you know how much to use? How do you make those swirling lines? How do you mix colors properly? 

Practice, darlings. Paint more. 

I've been asked about water usage, and can't answer the question with anything else but practice. It will soon become second-nature. Soon, you'll be making long lines with confidence and strength, and will know exactly how much water to use in order to create the effect you're looking for. 

My mother came out and admired one portion of my canvas. She loves it. All I could think was, it has taken me years to figure out how to do that, and now, it is so easy to do. 

Practice. 

I worked on the patio again today, finishing the sketching on one canvas and playing around on the other. I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going with anything -- I simply listened to music and enjoyed my time outside, a bit sad when the sun began to set so early. I've forgotten how late in the year it's become, fooled by pleasantly high temperatures. 

Sometimes, when I step back, I can't believe this art is coming from me. I wouldn't trade that wonder at my own abilities for anything.  

{Art on the Patio}

{dream-spinning into reality}

Edge of Reality; 10"x8" acrylic on canvas

“The poet’s pen/…gives to airy nothing/A local habitation and a name.”

A Midsummer Night’s Dream (act 5, scene 1, lines 15-17)

I’m reminded of dream-spinning, of the ability to create something from nothing. We are, as creative beings, conjurers of magic, giving that which exists only in our minds — loose ideas, emotions, memories — a name, a representation in the physical, through word and song and paint and pen. 

And how are we to define this “reality” we live in? Aren’t our dreams, while we’re in them, as real as daytime? What separates that fiction from the fact we live in? I’m drawn to the idea of  ‘cold, hard reality,’ that place we must return to when we dream too much, when people say our feet have left the ground. Why? What marks this reality as the one that matters, over the one we dream? And aren’t we allowed to escape into the thoughts in our heads? 

If I can take these thoughts, these bits I think, and give them voice, give them, as the quote suggests, a place — a physical place — and a name, then does that make them real? Or does me thinking them make them real?

What happens when we hit the edge of reality, where one fades into the other, the magic floating in that rift? Do we, like the early explorers believed, simply fall off the edge of the world in the dark, swirling abyss of — what?

I think that sitting down and showing up and crafting that magic with our hands is one of the most amazing things in the world. I feel it when I make journals — when I take paper and thread and board and create a book that someone can hold and explore in — when I do paintings — a white canvas transformed into a message — when I take a blinking cursor and craft words in an order that says something. 

Think on this today. Give an “airy nothing” a solid place in reality. It’s the first step in living your dreams. 

{an attempt is simply an unfinished canvas -- my final 2 canvases for Out of the Journal August!}

  

An attempt is simply an unfinished canvas. 

But it is a started one. 

I’ve never worked on the thicker canvases before, but they’re on sale this month at my local art shop, so I grabbed two smaller ones on Saturday, intent on working and finishing them on Sunday. 

Except I ended up creating text and rendering video from 9am to 8pm yesterday, with little time for art (I did, however, take a much-needed nap, choosing sleep over art — rather, my back chose sleep over painting); I worked on one of the canvases while filming a bit, using the extra paint (I hate leaving paint un-used on a palette!), but that was pretty much it. I didn’t have time, then, until this afternoon to work on the other, and according to Dina, starting a canvas counts in our little challenge, here. 

So here’s some retrospecting: I really like where August took me, art-wise. 

In my journal, I’ve gone from full-on art journal to part-art-journal, part-inspiration-book, inspired by the journals of Dave of the Journal Fodder Junkies (I met him, and Eric, quickly at Art Unraveled, and was able to page through his journal during the book signing event; out of all the artists there, he was the only one doodling in his journal — something I tend to do a lot!). There are sketches, paint, papers collected from all over, journaling, magazine images, etc. 

My paintings, prompted by our little challenge, grew more and more abstract until, with these last two, I was paying attention to direction and movement within the brushstrokes. 

And then, there was last week’s, with the big, bold imagery and colors popping off the canvas. 

I’ve been having so much fun being looser with my work, adding soft pastels and oil paintsticks, and oil pastels. Drawing and bending and moving. It has just been so much fun! I really will be finishing these canvases soon, and hope to have them, as well as a few of the other completed pieces, in my Etsy shop by next weekend. 

Until then, I’ll be in the editing bay, finishing up the media for True to You 2. By the end of all this, that workshop will have nearly 5 hours of video content, not to mention 18 worksheets and a 70-odd page PDF. Phew! My longest and most detailed workshop to date!

Consider this an amnisty post -- if you've participated in the Out of the Journal Callenge and haven't commented, or if you haven't for the final week, please do so on this post. I'll be drawing a winner tomorrow!

{out of the journal challenge w/ me & Dina!}

Now I know what she was buying all those canvases for a couple weeks ago! 

Dina and I are taking a challenge, and wonder: are you game? 

Here are the details (as written up so nicely by Dina):

• In August, do 2 canvases per week. Any size (well, I'd say 8x10 at the smallest...biggest is up to you). Weeks run Aug 1-7, Aug 8-14, Aug 15-21, Aug 22-31 (you get extra days in that last week).
• Theme can be ANYTHING...and you don't have to be entirely finished. But at least a GOOD start, if you know what I mean. Make an effort. 
• Canvases can get pricey...if you like, you can work on canvas board. Or, even large sheets of paper or chipboard. The point is to work on something OUTSIDE of your journal structure! There's nothing like putting paint on a canvas, though...hint hint, push push.
• Post your canvases each week if you have a blog...and link back to our weekly posts.
• Don't stress, don't worry...this is loosey-goosey. It's about the experience, it's about stretching, it's about doing something new. We'll be posting tips, observations, etc. as we go along.

I'll be running an online class while doing this, so you can do it, too! 

And each time you work on a canvas, leave a comment with a link to it -- one comment per canvas (either on your blog or flickr, etc) -- and I'll enter you in a drawing to win a free spot in one of my classes! Make sure to go over and comment on Dina's blog, too, so you can be entered to win a spot in one of her classes, too! We'll have a drawing Sept. 1st. 

I'll also do two more drawings for 2 prints from my Etsy shop. ;) 

It should be FUN! Get out there and just go for it! We'll be sharing our experiences and inspirations along the way, so make sure to check back in to see how we do, too!

Can't wait to see what we all come up with!  

{shifts and changes and new ideas...just what a journal is for!}

lost stars; 10"x8" mixed-media on gesso board

I've been trying new techniques, playing with new and loved materials, and grabbing new tools. It's fun -- some are things I've used before and purged from my collection when I moved on to newer, shiny-er things. Others are brand new, interesting, lab experiments in a studio done in vivid Technicolor. I used my first Shiva Oil Paintstick on the painting above, creating a creamy layer above some paint. And while having to wait 24 hours for it to dry (though I'm thinking I may start leaving things outside to dry in this 105F heat) kinda cramped my usual style, I loved going back over it with more paint, more materials, blending and discovering and smiling through the whole thing. 

I like trying new things. But this new shift feels like another step in the road created by my move, when my style shifted and flipped and took me along on the ride. 

You may recognize this as the self-portrait I used in my last video. I decided to keep going, working over it and then re-drawing it with a Stablo pencil (which has become a favorite, as it will write and draw over ANYTHING). This page was done entirely with a palette knife. 

I've also started playing with soft pastels again, and have found that there is a difference between the cheaper ones and more expensive ones. I started with an inexpensive set and found, as you can see above with the magenta, that they spread a lot. Which some people like. But I was looking for something a bit between that and how Caran d'Arch crayons spread when you use your finger on them. I've discovered Prismicolor NuPastels, and love them. I'll post pics tomorrow of a page with those. 

I love love trim that is more crocheted or lacey than any other. And why not paint over it? Create something entirely new? I just love how I kept going -- I didn't say, "There is trim here. No paint, please!" I simply treated it as another collaged element of the page. 

More paint. The hearts are the discards from punching shapes with my Cuddlebug for tags. Why not keep them? I'm finding I'm drawn more and more to discards, small bits, and odd, ripped shapes. For awhile, I was into using scrapbooking or patterned papers in my journal, and then painting over them. Now, I want what's left over when I've finished something else. 

And while the drawing may be in a style totally different (it was a blind contour from a photo), I love it. I love not only the idea that it is me, as I am, not how I would like to be, but that all the materials and ideas and application and colors are just as much a part of the portrait as the actual drawing. At first, I was unsure. Scared. Is this art? Is this good? We can often ask ourselves such things when something so drastically new comes from us, but as I learned today, you never lose what you've done before, not completely. It simply shifts and grows and takes you for a ride. 

You simply need to be willing to get on. 

{happy accidents!}

My thought process when I returned to this piece:

“I really don't want to sit up and paint her in acrylics.”

“Really?”

“Really. What if I did her muted, like Cassie?”

“Eh.”

 “Plus, I like being able to see the map and dots.”

 “OH! What if you painted her in watercolors?”

“YES. WINNING IDEA!”

So I collected together my watercolor set, waterbrush, and intense pencils, curled up on the couch, put on a movie, and finished her. 

AND I LOVE IT.

I love how her hair came out. I love the shading I was able to do. I love the shirt and skirt. I want to do more more MORE!

 This is how new ideas are born, guys! You just need to think outside the box of what you're supposed to and just do what you think might work.

I've gessoed some pages in my journal, put House on, and am ready to sketch and play around!

(I'll have this one up as a print later this week.)

{how I draw}

I took a little time for me today. 

That may sound silly -- I get to create for a living! But the truth of the matter is, I'm usually working on pages and projects for others, and don't really get to sit down and play. Do something for me. I really should work this into my day, and I do get to write in the evenings; I really missed it. I put in my headphones, turned on good music, and just said, 

"World, I am taking a break for a few minutes. I'll be back." 

And picked up a canvas. 

I love working on paintings. I often start with a quote or idea, then build up the layers from there. This one's surprised me with how it seems to just be coming together on its own. I haven't done a painting like this on such a tiny canvas before, so I'm learning as I go along how to put things together. As I look at it now, I realize I don't have any room for the writing I want to do -- I'll probably end up covering the tree. 

But that's OK. It all is OK. I'm playing and experimenting and trying to figure things out. Does my girl look odd, maybe. But that's how I draw. You can draw perfect faces or realistic portraits, but I'll stick with my illustration style. I adore it. I can speak through it. This is me -- how I'd like to be, what I strive to be. And this is my world as I see it. No one will ever experience this piece as I do, but if it does anything once I finish -- if one single person is touched or gets the message -- then my work is done. 

Time to head to the post office, put together kits for others, do a little extra for a new contact, go out for coffee. Take photos for a short piece, email an editor, and then, maybe, get to my journal. 

Thank God for weekends. 

(And Fridays, for Fringe. *bounces*)

PS. I've uploaded to Flickr, so you can once again click through to see the larger size. Also, sorry for the blurry-ness...I snapped these with my phone while working!