Art and Healing: Part One

A little over a month ago, a friend of mine died.

It was sudden; she was relatively young and had seemed to be in good health. Just the week before, she had given a dance performance. Her death was a huge shock. It was incredibly painful. And most of March is just a blur.

One of the first things I did, a way of coping, of dealing with it, was to make art. In partnership with another good friend of mine, I decorated boxes to be given to her husband and her two daughters, boxes to hold mementos.

And I started working on a few other pieces. Some encaustics. A portrait of my friend and an image of a nest, the bird gone. The image of what's left behind.


Putting them together, they seem to tell a story. A story that helps. At least a little bit.

Eeeek! Monkeys!

I am already putting my newly acquired Photoshop skills to work . . . I did this drawing of a monkey based loosely on those Barrel of Monkeys toys from my childhood:

And, with the power of the scanner and Photoshop, I was able to make this nifty monkey pattern!


It's the start of my piece for the 100th Monkey Studio anniversary fundraiser coming up next month . . . Heh heh . . . look out world!

Traveling in Cycles: Feeling Spring!

The Mayans recognized that we experience time moving not only in a cycle, but also in a line. Now, we tend to travel in a line and forget the cycles. I don't know about you, but I've had reminders all week of that cycle of death, renewal, and growth that is the seasons . . . Spring may not officially start until next week, but I'm seeing signs of it right now in my own back yard: the tree (cherry? plum?) is budding . . .

And blooming.

The squirrels are looking fat and sassy . . .

And focused. Very focused.

And Collage on Alberta, the art store in my proverbial back yard, just got in a groovy shipment of embossed paper birds and butterflies perfect for springtime assemblage . . .

And in the midst of this cycle unfolding, I'm hurtling towards a linear time deadline.

I'm hanging two shows this weekend - the shadowbox at Mad/50 and a collection of recent work (including encaustic, fiber, and assemblage) at CubeSpace. There's a lot to get ready for - and even though the evidence of spring has made it a lot easier to get up in the morning, I'm still feeling a bit overwhelmed. I have a stack of ideas for the blog, things I want to share with you, and nifty travel stories. And we'll get there. Right now, though, I've had to prioritize: my mind is moving in dizzy circles - putting final coats of medium on this piece, gluing this bit on there, prepping that piece for hanging, stitching another bit down while the glue dries over there . . . and trying very hard not to get too distracted by shiny things like squirrels and flowers and cool new collage ephemera.

Frankly, I'm feeling a bit squirrel-like myself.

In a good, focussed kind of way.

The Mad/50 Shrine: Progress Notes

I got quite a bit done on the Mad/50 shadowbox shrine project . . . I made a few sketches to capture some of the ideas that had been racing around in my head.
Normally, I don't do a lot of sketching - but I've been wanting to record my creative process and understand more about how my ideas develop. So, I attempted to capture some of the ideas that were floating around as the project marinated. Naturally, as soon as I attempted to get them down on paper, they changed. Even the medium - simple pencil on paper - dictated changes in the designs.
Then, I got into the studio and started playing around with objects and materials inside the freshly gessoed box. I found some things I'd forgotten about, like this mylar map of somewhere "outside" in Washington state.



I also took a little birdhouse and covered it with parts of an architectural drawing I had outlining plans for a heating system. The map of Portland added some color, which I liked. It seemed appropriate to have a little color given that the installation will happen on the Spring Equinox.

I certainly don't have the layout finalized - I doubt very much that the finished project will end up looking like either the sketches or the sample layouts I did. In fact, as often happens, the objects I found during my experimentation have already spawned two new and different shadowboxes - items that didn't work for the Mad/50 project but cried out to be used and still related to the "home" theme. I completed one of these "spawn projects" today (it utilizes an x-ray I got at SCRAP a few days ago, a Monopoly house, and some hand-printed fabric) and the other is well underway. I'll have pictures of those for you in a few days . . .

As for the Mad/50 project, I committed to using the map, painting over parts of it and extending some of the lines to make it feel more like an integral part of the box. I'm considering actually building a nest, because I don't think the birdhouse is quite right . . . and there's another shadowbox that seems to need it!



And here it is in context - the studio!

At Home: Memory

I recently finished reading a book by a friend of mine, Jill Kelly, called Sober Truths: The Making of an Honest Woman. It is the story of one woman's struggle with addictive behaviors, a struggle I could definitely identify with.

In her book, Jill Kelly says:

"Memories are not necessarily the truth. But we tend to live with them as if they are. They create those stories, those beliefs that govern our decisions."

Anyone who has ever tried to fill an internal void by drinking or eating or shopping or any of a hundred other things has a story about that void and how it came to be there. The fears, the pain, the loneliness, the emptiness we are trying to blot out . . . and the memories that serve as our rationalization for how we choose to cope with it. Memories that grow sharper and yet more blurred around the edges the more emotional we are about them.

These memories are what I deal with in my art. Visual, visceral, emotional. And only true in the sense that I remember them and they have shaped me.

I stopped believing in absolute truths a long time ago. Truth is largely a product of time and perspective. It is almost impossible for a human being to report on an event objectively; we are hardwired to assign meaning to what we observe and experience. That said, I do my very best to be honest . . . and I find that it is an incredibly complicated thing far more frequently than I would like. Real life happens in the gray areas.

All of these thoughts have been jostling in my head as I've been thinking about the Mad/50 shrine installation over the past several weeks. Home. My memories of how it was and how I thought it should be, my longing for it, the empty place that was my lack of it, and all of the things I did to feel a sense of belonging, to feel at home, somewhere, with someone.

That sense of home and belonging is something I am only now - at 37 - beginning to feel on a regular basis, and it is still intermittent. Fleeting.

Mad/50: Shadowbox Shrine in Process

I'm diving head first into a big project this weekend - a drawer-sized shadowbox shrine for installation at Mad/50, the groovy outdoor community art space at the corner of Madison and SE 50th in Portland. Here's the space, which I photographed this fall at the opening of the Day of the Dead installation.

It's protected from the elements, and the installation space for the shadowbox shrine is about 20" x 26". I'm working with a drawer, this drawer in fact, as the base.


The drawer is about 15" x 19", giving me a little bit of wiggle room if I want the shrine to extend outside the confines of the box. Which I probably will. So far, I have the box gessoed, and have been playing with some imagery and elements.

The theme is "home." It's a theme I've been working with a lot lately. Reconciling my desire for a home with a desire for freedom, trying to figure out what really makes up a sense of home, of being at home, of feeling at home. At home in your body, in a place, in a family or community. Needless to say, there are very few places or people with whom I feel at home. Hence the exploration.

Extreme Craft: Knitted Dissections, Paintball, and Monsters, Oh My!

Extreme, adj. 1. Outermost; farthest; edge or border. 2. Going to great lengths; utmost in degree; of the best or worst that can exist in reality or in imagination; excessive; immoderate. 3. Last; beyond which there is none. 4. Radical; advanced. 5. Drastic; very severe.
-adapted from the Webster's New Twentieth Century Dictionary, Unabridged


Whether you define your object-making and meaning-making in the world as art or craft or some delightful hybrid of the two (as I do), occasionally going to extremes is a great way to stretch your creative muscles. Part of the creative journey is taking risks - sometimes, those risks push the edge. And sometimes, they push you to places better - or worse - than you could have imagined.

That's part of why I love the blog Extreme Craft. Who could resist a hand-knit frog open on a dissection board from CraftyHedgehog?



I was also inspired by the blog author's recent effort to try something "extreme" with his own ceramic art. The result? Using a paintball gun to fire capsules of china paint at blank plates!


And then there's my friend Sven over at Scarlet Star Studios, who illustrated a monster a day on the Monster Month Blog in October, and just published them in the Monster Month Book (with text by famed world-traveling cryptozoologist Professor Ichbonnsen and design assistance from Gretchin). Below is an illustration by Sven of the Trick Squilligoss, one of my favorites (after the Zompire Bat). The images are luscious, and Sven's experience creating three-dimensional puppets for stop-mo animation shows through in the construction of these creatures. Sven did the illustrations based on elaborate descriptions provided to him by the globe-trotting Ichbonnsen. Note the "faintly bioluminescent eyes" on the Trick Squilligoss.


I was fortunate enough to be invited to the book release party last week - and while the Professor was unable to attend, I did get Sven to sign my copy of the book.

And thanks to Linda for the picture of me and Sven - Linda's just taken the biggest risk of all.

Quitting her day job to work full-time as an artist.

Now that's what I call extreme craft.

Oregon Flag Makeover Project: Back to Basics

Note: I would like to begin by apologizing to all truly obsessive people for implying in yesterday's post that doing the same thing two days in a row qualifies as "obsession."

I've definitely been letting flights of fancy take me where they may with this whole Oregon State Flag redesign, but today it's time to get grounded. I decided a quick review of the official M5K Flag Criteria was in order:

1. A flag needs to look, you know, flaggy. Patterns of bold color with, if you must, simple and iconic symbols. No photos. No intricate drawings or text. (Intricate drawings and text are on the current state flag, of course, but that's a big part of why we are designing a new flag.)

2. Flags are one-sided. Duh.

3. Flags are rectangular. Don't get all Nepal-Ohio on me.

4. Ideally, a flag should be distinctive and immediately recognizable, yet sit comfortably among traditional flag designs.

And, in the interest of simplicity and a very bad childhood experience with the Minnesota state flag, I have added a fifth criteria:

5. The flag should be simple enough to be drawn by any third-grader as part of a social studies project without causing anxiety attacks. (sample of anxiety-inducing flag below)


Of course, I also don't want to limit my creativity too much . . . and the ideas just seem to keep popping up. And at the most inopportune moments.


I also decided to refer back to my two favorite all-time state flags to see what made them so memorable: New Mexico (named as the L&TofM5K winner in the Best Flag, American State, category) and Alaska (also a runner-up in this category).



They are both simple, graphic, iconic. While they lack representations of giant fruit (a serious shortcoming), they really do evoke an emotional response - and I think they capture a little bit of the spirit of the states they represent.

Picking up where I left off yesterday, I started trying to think simple, graphic, iconic. Here's where that got me.


So I tried to go more graphic, focusing on the "fields of color" imperative. I want Blue to represent our rivers and coastline, and Green to represent the lush, mossy tree-ness of the state (ok, at least the Western part of the state . . .) So why not abstract the state itself?

Of course, resorting to the level of symbolism required by "one rain drop for each county" may be a little excessive . . . and I did like the Oregon Trail element . . . perhaps even using the covered wagon icon from the state seal . . . just simplifying it a bit more . . .

I wonder if I could make it even more abstract? Bolder? Maybe eliminate the covered wagon?

Hmmm . . . . is it a good sign or a bad sign when the state flag starts to look suspiciously like a Pink Floyd album cover?


Clearly, it's time for bed.

More Oregon Flag Makeover Madness

I've gotten a bit obsessed. I come home from work. I play Dance Dance Revolution. I think about the Oregon Flag. I blame Michael5000 and his flag makeover contest. Not for the Dance Dance Revolution part. That's clearly not his fault.

Apparently, I didn't quite get the Beaver/Salmon hybrid out of my system yesterday, so here's "the Beamon skiiing - er, snowboarding - on Mt. Hood" as a flag:

I also finally looked up images of Beavers and Salmon and created this yin-yang, forest-river, earth-water flag featuring those state icons in their slightly more natural forms:

I like that the little gold swirl represents the power of our natural resources. Or at least that it could.

Of course, Oregon is much more than Mt. Hood, lush forests, beautiful waterways, cute beavers and slick salmon. There's fruits and nuts!

The state fruit is the pear, and the state nut is the hazelnut. And I have a strong affection for blueberries. So, I began working with those elements, and threw in Mt. Hood for good measure:

Then, I was reminded of a wonderful set of giant fruit and vegetable postcards that I have. Here's one that features pears:

And here's one that features a cucumber:

Now, while cucumbers are not particularly significant to Oregon as a state, this is the culmination of the Oregon Trail - the end of the road for a lot of folks hauling a lot of things in covered wagons. Heck, it's even on the state seal - featured prominently on the current flag:


So, here's what it might look like to bring it all together on a flag:


Of course, it could use a little tweaking. And some blueberries.

Pattern-Making Process: Stuffed Misfit

I'm going to be hosting a Stuffed Misfit Stitchathon* at CubeSpace here in Portland on Saturday, February 9th from 1-4. Suzi Mayer will be there, too, guiding participants in the creation of hats from felted sweaters. It's a re-use-a-palooza for all the misfit garments, the shrunken sweaters, the mateless gloves, the single socks that you've doubtless removed from your closet in a resolute frenzy of New Year's clutter-clearing. For $5, we supply what you need to make a hat or your very own Stuffed Misfit. Bringing your own shrunken sweater or singleton socks is highly encouraged; I'll have needles, thread, buttons, stuffing, etc. for the Stuffed Misfits.

I'm excited to do this, especially since I didn't have the New Year's Day Stuffed Misfits party I had been loosely planning (see "ennui"). And, since I'm also way behind on doing a January craft project DEMO! (rationalizations: post-holiday ennui and nasty post-ennui energy-zapping head cold) and want to have some kind of original pattern or guide to provide at the Stuffed Misfit Stitchathon and promised to do a drawing a day during January and really just wanted to make a Stuffed Misfit tonight while watching episodes of "The Closer", I thought I'd do a multiple-goal, one project kind of a thing.**

Meet Mr. Misfit in Progress:

Now, I tend to work pretty intuitively. I put stuff together, poke holes, add things on . . . I rarely work from patterns - or if I do, I use them primarily as a starting point. I use books for inspiration and to learn new, very specific techniques.

Mr. Misfit in Progress (he doesn't have a name yet, just an initial sense of maleness) began as an old sock and a cheap-o stretchy glove. Cutting, stitching, and stuffing ensued. There is still stitching - and possibly cutting and stuffing - to be done.

But it doesn't always work in a classroom setting to say, "Ok, just kind of cut things off until it looks right and then stitch it up and stuff it and stitch some more." I try to provide some basic techniques, and then encourage people to run wild. My thinking here is that I'll create this little creature intuitively, but will draw the pattern as I go along so that people have a starting point and can see how I've blended the techniques that I've picked up from different places.

Here's the pattern drawing so far, which I think subconsciously borrows pretty heavily from John Murphy's pattern style, minus the legibility:

Uh-huh. So, it's the first draft. I think it could benefit from some words. It's tough for me to break down what I'm doing into freeze frames, especially when it's still under development. It's a good exercise, though, because it's really forcing me to think about the construction and alternative ways of putting it together . . .

With any luck, I'll get it finished and up on the blog tomorrow. That way, I can post it as a finished drawing, and as a DEMO! and use it in the workshop on February 9th! Multi-tasking - it's all part of my process.

Footnotes:

* "Stuffed Misfit Stitchathon" is not the name under which CubeSpace will be promoting this event, as I just came up with it a few minutes ago. However, it's catchier than my original title (" Make Your Own Stuffed Misfit: Soft Monsters from Stranded Socks and Odd Gloves with Bridget Benton") so I'm going with it.

** Figuring out how to do exactly what you want while still meeting your personal goals and satisfying the obligations, needs and requirements of those within your chosen environment is a very particular application of creative skill, one that is present in abundance in young children, college students, lawyers, and professional mediators. I consider it a critical life skill, though when coupled with self-delusion, lies, and/or statistics (as it too often is in the case of college students and lawyers) it can get pretty ugly.

Nest Head

I've certainly had days like this. Fortunately, today was not one of them. The ennui is fading, and I'm starting to feel energized again! I'm not teaching at all during January - I've got too much work scheduled for the Other Part of my Brain - so the drawing a day (along with some classes I'll be taking) will serve as my creative accountability.

And, I've got a few cool links to share!

For you Portland folks, the main library downtown is featuring a mail art show! I didn't pull it together to participate (it wasn't juried, making it a great opportunity for the entire community to participate), but am excited to visit - Diane over at DIY Alert talked about it on her Cool Places Alert blog this week, and gave some great links to learn more about mail art.

I'm also very excited about the up and coming jewelry exhibits at The Museum of Contemporary Craft here in Portland - Touching Warms the Art and Framing: The Art of Jewelry. Both look like they're set to open January 19th, but get this - visitors get to touch and even try on the jewelry created for the Touching Warms the Art exhibit - I cannot tell you how much this thrills me. I am thinking about becoming a member of the museum just so that I can crash the pre-opening gala! (Although it's not really crashing if I'm a member and have an invite, is it?) It also looks like the jewelry is made from a lot of found, recycled, and non-precious materials - something that appeals to me. I'm going to be reworking my Toolbox Jewels class into Junk Drawer Jewels - incorporating more different types of found objects into the workshop.
And last but not least, my friend Mark Silver of Heart of Business publishes an e-newsletter that is full of wonderful information for the spiritually-minded entrepreneur, folks who want to "make a difference and a profit." His newsletter this week was about creativity - and he hit on a really important point: it takes quiet time in order to turn around and have productive time. You have to allow yourself times to be fallow or to simply be quiet and reflective in order to be creative. If you want to read the whole article, go here.

And perhaps that is part of the purpose of post-holiday ennui: my mind forcing me to rest, to contemplate . . .

Studio Day

Ah, the glory of (almost) an entire day spent in the studio . . . I really need that kind of concentrated art time . . . Today, I experimented with printing plates made from pieces of foam rug gripper and friendly foam and even foam weather stripping. In other words, if it's even vaguely foamy, I'm experimenting with making a stamp/printing plate from it and printing it on fabric.

The Artmaking as Playful Prayer class finished on Monday, and I've got a Memory Jewelry class that starts tomorrow. And I've been cleaning up from the Secret Society Sale last Sunday, and prepping for the Dinnergrrls Holiday Bazaar this coming Sunday . . . It's a miracle I got in the studio for any personal work! But I need that time . . . especially after a Playful Prayer class ends. I need time to digest what's happened. Time to incubate. I got some really wonderful and thoughtful feedback about the class, about creating more meaningful transition times. And I've been digesting that, considering different ways that I might meet that need without sacrificing the structural looseness. All while I print little houses and little birds with nests on fabric. So soothing.

And yesterday's teaser? Old appliqued quilt blocks (from yet another quilt that is not to be) that I'm turning into pillows to sell at the Dinnergrrl's Holiday Bazaar this weekend . . .

Today, I'd Just Like to be Squirrel Girl

Either the one from Sweetie's online comic book, or the one that hangs upside down in the tree in my backyard in order to feed from the bird feeder. The first is sexy in a butch rodent kind of way, can kick butt and has a long fluffy tail. The other one is quite deliciously zaftig in a cuddly yet athletic way, can do 30 crunches while hanging upside down and has a long fluffy tail. (At first, Sweetie and I thought she might be pregnant, but we've been watching her for over a month now, and squirrels usually mate in December and June, with gestations in the 30-44 day range. So, unlikely.)

Today, I would like my mission to be simple: kick butt, eat seeds, fluff tail.

You notice blogging is not on the list.

You notice, too, that I resorted to listing seven random facts about myself yesterday instead of talking about any sort of creative enterprise. The creativity is definitely happening: I had a wonderful Playful Prayer class last night which resulted in a couple of great conversations about process, and how a piece will change as you work on it, how you can often spend a lifetime pursuing work that allows you to express a particular thing and still not quite get it, but revel in the process. I led the group in one of my favorite writing exercise (based on Pat Allen's Art is a Spiritual Path) where we engaged in a stream-of-consciousness dialog with our work. I also worked more on my fiber pieces about Nepal, and developed some new stamps using foam insulation tape that I can't wait to try out. Wonderful stuff.

In fact, that's been one of the great things about NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month). I commit to posting every day. My blog is about creativity. And guess what? There really is something to write about every single day that relates to my creative journey. My creative life really is that fully integrated with my everyday life. Woo-Hoo!

It's just that some days, I'd rather not write about my creative process or the things that inspire it or feed it or result from it. I'd rather be Squirrel Girl. And Squirrel Girl doesn't blog. She gorges on seeds, then hides some away in secret stashes for a cold day. She incubates. She mates in December. And maybe June. She kicks butt. She fluffs her tail.

And I'm just betting she watches Project Runway.

In Development . . .

I'm working on some fiber collage pieces using image transfer techniques I learned during Wendy Huhn's Transferology class . . . and combining it with some heat moldable foam block printing on fabric . . . . I'm applying it all to unprimed canvas with Steam-a-Seam-2 fusible webbing (my favorite for fabric applique). Then, I'll be adding some stitching and other embellishment before eventually mounting the canvas - gently - on canvas stretcher bars. Above is a shot I took of Baggage: Nepal, 1 in process before I started the applique and stitching.

The photos are shots I took when I was traveling in Nepal . . . except for the suitcase. The suitcase, well, yes I took the pictures of that, too. Just not in Nepal. In fact, I bought it here in Portland at Poppy & Ivy just so that I could take pictures of it to use in my collage work. It just seemed like the perfect, iconic suitcase. The kind that, 50 years ago, might have graced the hands of an adventurous Airline Hostess. The kind that might be full of all kinds of Baggage. The kind that you might be forced to drag around with you long after it had outlived its usefulness. The kind that might have a Strange Musty Smell lingering in the satin lining.


Adventurous, check.
Baggage, check.
Musty Smell, check.

Bring on the cameras.

Loose Ends . . .

I thought I'd share how a couple of pieces have progressed . . . one was the mandala that I started the first night of Artmaking as Playful Prayer . . . I started working on it, then photographed my own hands, my own lips, and my own vegetables to incorporate into it . . . I also photographed some of my own lipsticks . . . The orange and lemon slices are plastic fruit that I bought and made photocopies of! Anything I can do to build my own library of images . . .


And here's the four-part self-portrait that I started at Traci Bunkers class at Art and Soul . . . I changed up some of the collage, and added a few color washes, and it definitely feels more unified. Can't say I'm crazy about it, but it feels resolved - and I learned a lot from doing it. Incubation is your friend.

And whether a piece is "likable" or not is probably one of the least important things about it.

DEMO: Moldable Foam Stamps

I decided to participate in NaBloPoMo 2007 - it's not a new Polish Dance Craze, nor is it a traditional Italian noodle dish. Heck, it's not even a neighborhood in New York. No, it's just my comittment to post on this here blog once a day during the month of November.

It is possible that I will end up resorting to recitations of what I ate during the day, but I am starting with a bang - my first on-line DEMO! A NaBloPoMo Demo! I'll also be putting these up on the website - part of a diabolical long-term plan to offer ideas for quick and easy Creativity Breaks at the rate of one a month.

We'll see.

But now, you get a DEMO! of my new favorite thing - moldable foam. I am making stamps out of anything that doesn't move. Actually, the keyboard might make for a cool effect . . .

1. Start with some Moldable Foam! 3" x 4" of foam. I get mine locally at Collage on Alberta (they sell them singly for $1.00 each , or in packs of 8 for, well, $8). If you're not local, good luck finding them on the manufacturer's website (www.clearsnap.com) or googling Magic Stamp Moldable Foam Stamps.

2. Arrange the items you want to use to make an impression with - here, it's clothespins.
3. Heat the foam with an embossing tool for 30 seconds - keep it moving. And yes, it needs to be something hotter than a hairdryer - sorry!

4. Press the foam firmly into the texture objects for 15 seconds. Release! The impression will stay in the foam until the foam is reheated. Reheat the foam, and the impressions are *mostly* erased. And you can use both sides of the foam . . . yes, you can buy one foamie, make two stamps, then erase and start all over again!!!

5. Ink your stamp. I used a rubber brayer and a water-based printing ink, but use your imagination! Experiment! Basically, you just don't want the ink to dry on the stamp - you can probably use stamp pad ink or fabric paints with some kind of extender . . . you get the idea. (Note: I later used fabric paints . . . I found that it was easier to ink the foam with a foam brayer because the consistency of the fabric paint was different. Still got cool prints!)

6. Print! Just press the inked surface into the paper or fabric using firm, even pressure. Here, I printed on smooth Bristol Board. Very nice impression.

You can make a stamp from almost anything . . . Buttons

Rubber Bands

Even Corn Cobs! In fact, once you get started, it's hard to identify something that WOULDN'T make a cool stamp.

Here are some sample prints that I turned into ATCs. Still very attached to these today, but will be ready to trade some soon, I'm sure! (The ATCs shown above also include homemade stamps made from Friendly Foam glued to bits of acrylic board, an idea I got from Wendy Huhn.)