Archives for posts with tag: collage

Day Seventy-Nine/Image Seventy-Nine

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

Asparagus. Used here like trees over the California Coast. How can an artist improve on the California Coast? I think I just did.

Day Seventy-Eight/Image Seventy-Eight

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

My daughter gets all dressed up for homecomings and parties. Everything is agonized over. Makeup for professional photographs done by a so-called professional makeup artist, only to be redone in the car mirror. Dresses tried on and captured by an Iphone from every angle to be reviewed and texted to her friends before considering. Hundreds of dresses to be hung up in the dressing rooms of many many stores. All nice, hip and trendy, smart, elegant, perfect, in fact. All fitting perfectly, but something not quite right each time.

Until the unanimous report comes in that alas! This dress is perfect (My daughter says, you have to be careful shopping with other girls because they will tell you a dress looks good on you just so they can look better than you at the dance. Her grandmother, who is ninety-two, agrees with her.)

I get tired of all her shopping and primping. Put raspberries in your hair, my daughter. You are only this young for a minute.

Day Seventy-Five/Image Seventy-Five

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

Pink. Looks like an advertisement for a cosmetic company. I cut out pictures of cotton balls on the plastic of cotton ball bags. Bubbles, baubles and a pretty face. Fun. A flower in the middle.

How I love its superficiality and innocence! And, as an art form, I love the integration of colors and shapes.

Day Seventy-Four/Image Seventy-Four

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

This collage was the signature piece for my “Afloat” show. I used it on all eblasts, the brochure and the invitations.

Day Seventy-Two/ Image Seventy-Two

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

This is a tuna steak. Raw. In front of a building in China. I did it only for aesthetic reasons. Don’t you get that? Loving the colors.The photographer who painstakingly took these pictures for my records knew it was a tuna steak. I don’t think I would know that.

He is a gourmet cook and therefore probably has it cooked on the grill or some other luxurious way. And doesn’t think of tuna the way I do. In a can or presented in the form of an ice cream scooped mold on a lettuce leaf.

I am highly impressed with people who cook. I used to cook. I made desserts from Northern Italy and I stuffed curried mashed potatoes into eggplant skins. I used to make my own spaghetti sauce and not ever used sauce in a bottle. (I think pasta companies put that stuff in see-through jars so we can see the finished product is not corrosive.)

Cooking used to be an elegant expression of myself. Since our daughter came into our lives, and the pediatrician told me, a shocked vegetarian, to feed her Gerber’s veal and lamb in a jar, we eat things I never would have begun to eat. Meatloaf and spaghettios. Granola bars and Nutella. Nuggets. Corn dogs. Even sloppy joes. On white bread buns.

Now that I am gluten free and our daughter is going off to college, I think I am easing back to more culinary ways.

Day Seventy-One/Image Seventy-One

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

Pansies. I love pansies. Here they thrive in the winter. Rows and clusters of them are being planted in huge quantities now at all gas stations, median strips, apartment complexes. People are buying them to put in their flower beds. I am too busy with this blog, I don’t know how I am going to get any artwork done.

But when I see pansies. With their sweet, upturned faces, sometimes shivering in the cold, I turn all Southern and say, “They hung the moon.”

Day Sixty-Nine/Image Sixty-Nine

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

The basement studio is almost finished. Everything in it is white. Floor, walls, table, brick wall. I am even spray-painting random “junk” items to reside there. Still keeping my studio downtown, which remains my sanctuary.

Everything is crystal-clear in my studio downtown: focus, attention to detail, ideas. It’s a wonderful space, located in an historical building on the National Historical Building Register. Heat is negligible. And in the summer it’s very hot. Peeling lead wall paint and asbestos flooring (which I covered with particle board.) An earthly place. I can totally relax.

There, the floor and walls are white too, as color is important to me. Do you know that surrounding white extracts a small amount of color out of every color? When I paint there, I make the colors brighter. When work is in a gallery, the effect is the same. Hence my desire for white. I wanted to be working on things as they will be seen.

Recently I hung a painting of mine, not too large, maybe 36″ x 48″ in a patron’s (Is that too pretentious?) office. The man has taupe walls and some blue on an adjacent wall. The blue “matched” and the taupe “matched.” It sold the painting. I have to admit, the colors were exactly were the same. My purist preference would have been, to have him appreciate the artwork on its own, which he truly did. But the matching, well you know….. To sell a painting is so wonderful, but to sell one appreciated on its own terms is even better.

Again, white is everywhere. To keep me on the right path.

Day Sixty-Six/Image Sixty-Six

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

Not too long ago, my husband, daughter and I moved to the suburbs. Actually it was at the beginning of my daughter’s life. So I guess it has been a while. We had been living in the center of Atlanta, on a shadowy street not too far from where my studio is located. It was a traumatic move. In many ways.

Long before the move, I had been receiving acupuncture treatments for my sinus condition. For these doctor visits, we would get up early in the morning and drive very far out to what seemed to us, the edge of the earth. We felt, that if we drove just a little further, we would fall off. Like in the cartoons.

Feeling life is safer in the burbs, we looked for a house. Settling into the house that would be the house of our daughter’s childhood memories, we realized we were living in a home just beyond that point.

Beyond the edge of the earth.

Day Sixty-Three/Image Sixty-Three

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

This volcano looks happy! Lots of brightly colored dots coming out of its center! Certainly not harmful, destructive gases, lava and fire! But jelly bellies and grapes and bubbles!

These exclamation points above, both in the collage and in my opening paragraph, are not just because I am an exuberant person.

The printed sentence has no inflection. No tone of voice to soften a neutral comment that could be misinterpreted to mean something harsh. No tone of voice to explain something in a compassionate way. We have two options when we text or email someone. We can end the sentence with an exclamation point or a period.

At the risk of sounding a little nutty, I would rather end a sentence in an exclamation point than have someone take my sentence to mean that I am angry, sad, or dismissive. (It has been researched that an incredibly high percentage of friendships end by friends using the internet or phone to quickly jot down something that is misunderstood.)

In this busy time where the days are sucked from our lives, I think it’s better to sound a little cheesy than grim!

Day Sixty-Two/Image Sixty-Two

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

About a year ago, the son of a good friend of mine suggested I do a blog as part of my new website. I was fascinated at the time. I needed a new website and I consulted with him because I knew this guy is in the business of working with computers. ( Who isn’t? But this guy really is.)

It was a Thanksgiving chat and all was mellow. I didn’t give the blog much thought, except for the “live” aspect of it. What had been a static website before, showing my artworks in a gallery row, updating it from time to time, I was thrilled at the prospect of a blog. He said “People will come to your shows! You can post your work in progress!”

Now, eight months later, after hanging in with this blog, bumbling along and spending many obsessive/compulsive hours, its worth is sweet! It is like a still pool, where the depth is indeterminable. I have met many people this way. I don’t know them, but we tell each other stuff that makes my life richer. I learn about things I never would have cared to access. But I find these things more than interesting.

At any rate: Thanks, Sam Cook, for your suggestion!