21st century humans are over thinkers. In this age of almost unlimited information access, we Google it, Wikipedia it, overanalyzing most anything and everything that comes our way. The moments in which we just lose ourselves to what is happening right that very secondare increasingly rare. Los Angeles artist Jan Zoya intentionally strives to keep the intellect out of her work, resulting in abstract paintings that are free from constraint.
Castle in the Sky, oil on canvas, 23×23Ramshackle Harbor, oil on canvas, 30×30
Her journeys in paint become a conversation on canvas, a talk between color, texture and what emerges. Between the path the artist decides to pursue and the road not taken.
City at Night, mixed media on canvas, 36×48Garden of Earthly Delights, mixed media on canvas, 17×23Daisychains Around the Maypole, mixed media on canvas, 36×36
As I mentioned in a post last week, I’m learning how to have these conversations in paint. To let your brain take a vacation while you paint is very difficult to do! We’re always wanting to know, what will the outcome be? Where is this going? When will we get there? But as in Zoya’s work, I found that it was when I stopped thinking that the magical combination of instinct and intuition took over. And the journey became much more interesting!
Passage, mixed media on canvas, 36×36
To see more of Jan Zoya’s work, please visit her website and give her Facebook page a like, too!
Perhaps some pretty flowers arrived at your house yesterday? Maybe not ones of the Christy Kinard variety ( but if so, LUCKY!! ), but the sweetly scented kind. Pray tell, what did you do with your floral treasure? Please don’t say you just left them in the boring, cheap-o, mass manufactured vase they came in! A beautiful token of love deserves a special vessel. An artsy vessel. Here are a few I would happily grace with blooms!
Green, Yellow, and Red Ceramic Pot by Esther Griffith
Hope you the lovey doveyness keeps coming your way! I’m off to Palm Springs today for the Palm Springs Art Fair, looking forward to spending the day discovering more artsy to share with you!
**this vase is extra special because it is emblazened with lyrics from mine & Mr. Forager’s song. It’s not super mushy, but it fits us perfectly!
I hope you don’t mind if I get personal. Something has been missing from my life. I was seeing it every day from all points, sharing with you when I found it elsewhere, yet finding it lacking for myself. I’m talkin’ about the ARTSY. You see, once upon a time, I could paint. I could draw. And I loved it. But post-college, life happened, I got a string of “real jobs” ( art related, fortunately ) and in general, the busyness of life took over. Occasionally I would dust off my paints and brushes, but those creative rendezvous where growing fewer and farther in between.
You might think that the perfect opportunity to get back into it came when Mr. Forager & I began traveling. No longer would I have the constraints of working a 40+ hour work week, no longer would I be maintaining and upkeeping a house, we’d be far from family, so no excuse of making time for everyone but me. And I did think about it. But it scared the daylights out of me. That little voice inside ( you know, the nasty, mean one ) told me I’d waited too long. Any skill I’d cultivated and talent I’d had was gone. Who was I to try to be an artist? I worked with and personally knew so many phenomenally talented artists. I didn’t feel worthy of even trying to join their ranks. So I choose to stretch my creative muscles in a different direction– I wrote about those phenomenal talents here on the blog. All the while knowing something was missing.
Instead of cultivating my own creative spirit, I’d thrown all my energy into celebrating the creativity of others. Please don’t get me wrong, I adore creating, writing, and developing Artsy Forager! Yet I find myself feeling envious of all the artists I was discovering. HE has such a way with paint, SHE can draw like nobody’s business. I wanted to get back the artistic mojo I’d been missing. For Christmas 2011, Mr. Forager gave me a new set of acrylics and a full-size foldable easel. I’m ashamed to say I can count on two fingers the times I’ve used them. There always seemed to be a reason not to. But now we’ve been here in Joshua Tree for 4 months with 2 1/2 more to go. We’re in a house big enough for me to have room to paint. No more excuses.
So Sunday, while Mr. Forager was brewing beer, I got out my paints and brushes and set up my easel. Underpainting, done. Easy enough, just a wash of phthalo blue. There was a photograph I’d taken of rocks in water that I decided to use as my jumping off point. I sketched in the shadows and forms and started pushing in color and highlights. But it wasn’t working. At times it looked OK, I started to remember what I loved about the process, but then it all seemed to fall apart. I hated what I was doing. I didn’t find it at all creative or inspiring. Mr. F could tell it wasn’t going well. He lovingly reminded me that this was supposed to be fun. And correctly pointed out that maybe I was just trying too hard. I continued to stew and then just got mad. At myself. And with that, I did what most angry artists would do– I destroyed what I’d done with more paint. I slashed cadmium yellow and alizarin crimson all over the tight, controlled mess I’d already concocted. And I immediately felt better. And inspired.
I continued just freely pushing paint, slashing, spraying, muddying, wiping, taking a break and then doing it all again. Mr. F brought me a glass of Kona Koko Brown, one of the few beers I love, and I continued to play. I forgot that I was trying to make “art” and just enjoyed how the colors were working and what the paint was doing. I could see something emerging that made me happy. I was loving the way the colors were mixing, the way light was coming through. I had a breakthrough. You can see the results of my day below.
Kintla Lake ( detail ), acrylic on board, 12×16
Do I think this is the most fabulous inspiring painting I’ve ever seen? Not even close. But compared to where I began that day, I’m pretty happy. It feels good to have a visceral connection to paint again. I have a long way to go. But I’ve vowed to try to create something every day, whether it be just a sketch or a quick study in paint on paper. I’m even inspired to begin a series ( more on that later ). My creative muscles need exercise. I’m sharing this with you because I’m sure you’ve experienced something similar. And because I needed to tell someone. And I need accountability. So if you don’t mind, I’ll occasionally share a little of my own artistic journey. It will be nice to have some company.
Something that draws me again and again to abstract work is how it, more than any other style, tends to be about outward expression of an inner life. Artists using their canvases and paints to work out what is going on inside. The work of Pennsylvania artist Mary Ann Wakeley, which she describes as a form of meditation, seems to be the manifestation of her own inner dialogues.
Wonderland, mixed media on paper, 19×24Le Fruit de L’Amour, mixed media on paper, 17×22
As I look at Wakeley’s work, watching the movement of color and line, I can almost “see” the conversation taking place with herself in paint. The forms and shapes dialogue on the canvas, some speaking louder than others.
L’Envers, mixed media on paper, 24×19Reclamation, mixed media on wood, 30×30
Looking through Wakeley’s body of work on her website, you can almost see the evolution of what she was expressing as a visual diary of sorts.. periods of work where the paint is dark and dense or times of fluid joy.
To see more of Mary Ann Wakeley’s work, please visit her website.
In every life and any artist can tell you, in every work of art is filled with highs and lows. We struggle through the valleys and rejoice on the mountaintops. The work of New England artist Natalia Wrobel expresses those polarities in paint.
The World is a Waterfall, oil on canvas, 77×77Marked Surrender, oil on canvas, 24×24
Wrobel’s work intuitively explores the push and pull of creating something from nothing. The layering of color, line, and shape create swirls of movement and texture while leaving areas of glowing and restful light.
Angels at the Ready, oil on canvas, 36×60Abundance, oil on canvas, 96×48
In each piece, we can almost see the search, the struggle between letting go and holding on, knowing when to keep moving forward and when to stop in your tracks.
Echo, oil on canvas, 42×42
To see more of Natalia Wrobel’s work, please visit her website. And don’t forget to follow her on Facebook and Twitter, too!
Sometimes, I happen upon the loveliest artsy things when I’m not looking. Last Sunday, Mr. F & I were enjoying a quiet day at home and decided to take a little walk down the hill into Joshua Tree. We explored a few of the storefronts we hadn’t seen yet and tucked away in a corner was a new little shop, bkb ceramics. I immediately fell for the modern, simple shapes and the deep rich raku glazes. The shop is new, but artist/sculptor/ceramicist Brian Bosworth has already made waves at the Dwell on Design show in LA last year.
Each piece is unique, hand carved, completely affordable and functional, with a drain hole in the bottom. Just add rocks & your choice of succulent and voila, instant desert garden! We’re seriously thinking we’ll go back and pick our favorite as our artsy reminder of our time in Joshua Tree.. I’m leaning towards the Medium Blue Raku beauty above!
I admit, I’m a scaredy cat. I turn on lights as soon as I enter a dark house. It’s something about the fear of what is unseen. The power of suggesting what might be lurking is enough to give me chills. The work of California artist Sherie Franssen weaves a visual tension between what lies beneath and what is merely suggested.
Fool For Love, oil on canvas, 43×65
Her expressive abstract works begin with a figure, then through expressive gestural brushstrokes and saturated color, the figurative presence recedes, like a shadow, into the swarm of color and movement.
Return of the King, oil on canvas, 78×86Barnyard, oil on canvas, 78×80
While perhaps, if we gaze long enough and look closely enough, we may catch a glimpse of the figure among the fray. But it will be the searching that our eyes most remember as we take in the excitement of each moment and movement. We may even forget what it was we were anticipating.
Sherie Franssen, oil on canvas, 78×90
To see more of Sherie Franssen’s work, please visit her website. Her work can be seen in person at Dolby Chadwick Gallery in San Francisco.
Thick, interlocking lines of paint layered over obscured black and white imagery? Could I be more intrigued? Check out the work of Portland artist Alex Steckly in my Artist Watch over on Escape Into Life. Because I need to know I’m not the only one obsessing over these. Check out the post here!
Following a rough, partially sleepless Friday night ( hey landlord, just because your rental is in the desert, doesn’t mean it never rains.. puddles in the bed are no fun ), Mr. Forager & I arose early Saturday morning, fueled up on coffee and pancakes in Joshua Tree and hit the road to escape to LA for the day. On the agenda: The LA Art Show, The Pie Hole, and the Arts District.
[ away we go! ]
[ unsophisticated ]
[ found: Damien Hirst ]
[ these were fun, magnifying glasses required ]
[ desire, obtain, cherish ]
[ speaking of desire ]
[ The Sweater contemplates.. is it art? ]
[ so long, Sheperd Fairey ]
Want to see more photos from our LA adventure? Oh, I’ve got ’em! Check out my Instagram feed for lots more artsiness form the City of Angels!
Sometimes, work just catches my eye because it’s interesting and well executed. Then the more I look at it, the more I’m amazed by it. And then, I read the artist’s statement about his work and I’m left speechless at the way the creative mind weaves and works. Tennessee paper artist Charles Clary uses layer upon layer upon layer of hand cut paper to render intricate worlds that “mimic viral colonies and concentric sound waves“. ( !?! )
Microbial Diddlation Movement #18, acrylic and hand cut paper on panel
Recognizing the similarities in pattern between microbial outbreaks and sound waves, Clary’s work shows us, in a way, what could be lurking under any surface. We are lulled into a sense of ease and complacency by the smooth, unblemished surface of the canvas, yet what is revealed is a complex system of layered, interconnected shapes.
Radmiafungle Gestation Movement 6, acrylic and hand cut paper on panelRadmiafungle Gestation Movement 6 ( detail )
Despite their slightly menacing associations, for me, the work is reassurring rather than disturbing. I find it comforting to think that despite appearances, there is always more than meets the eye. What is taken for granted as simple, may very well be extremely complex. Like peeling back an onion, it’s only when we look beyond the surface that we see the layers.
Microbial Diddlet Movement #4, acrylic and handcut paper on panel
To see more of Charles Clary’s work, please visit his website.
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