Art Shows, or lack thereof

I have participated in only a few art festivals over the last year, and that's by design.  After a third year at Art Westport (but with the Orzo work this year) and finally slaying the dragon that is the Plaza Art Fair, I traveled the farthest ever, to Artclectic, in Nashville.

It rained during set up at Westport.  A real joy.

I spent much of the day like this.  Also, I threw my back out setting up!

Plaza, two weeks later.  Much better weather, although my neighbor from
New Orleans was freezing when it dropped to 65 that night.  I gave her hand warmers.
I was in a sleeveless dress.

Behind the wall.

Artclectic Nashville--INSIDE!!  Very nice.

No tent set up and they fed us A LOT.

Doing shows is exhausting and I am not willing to do enough, or travel enough, to make it economically feasible or sustainable.  I'm really proud of this body of work, but hauling it in and out of my shed, truck, and tent beats it up and beats me up, too.  I couldn't bend down for almost two weeks after set up at Westport.  And I was gone for almost a week traveling to and from Nashville in October (although I'm glad I got to explore the city and the National Quilt Museum on the way there).  I learn every time I take my work on the road, both about the logistics of moving it around and the work itself.

In 2019, I haven't had any tent shows or art fairs, and I don't have any scheduled.  I only applied to one: The Plaza.  And, like the 9/10 times before when I applied, I got rejected outright (I got in off the waitlist last year).  I'll explain more about that process later since many non-exhibitors do not understand the ins and outs of that...

Wake Up, Sleepyhead

So the blog has been quiet for a year now.  I've been lazy about writing.  I'm still making stuff, though!

Fast highlights I will elaborate on soon:

I've had many companies ask me to hang my work for the Now Showing program at ArtsKC.

I was in a group show at the KC Artists' Coalition.

I participated in Art Westport, the Plaza, and some smaller ceramics sales through the KC Clay Guild.

I've had some home projects, the biggest being completely gutting and remodeling my bathroom.

I've replaced my manic Dumpster diving with flower collecting (dubbed by a friend the Urban Flower Rescue Mission) both around empty lots in town and along country roads.

I've been making planters and larger vessels, and some cats!

Stay caught up on INSTAGRAM because that's my main show-off place right now...

And stay tuned.  Thanks for sticking by me.

Cannibalized

It sometimes takes a few tries to get a piece right.  And sometimes you have to just start over.

With this one, I started over. 

Six inches tall, 30 inches wide...it actually started out as a clock many years ago.  Then I peeled and sanded the surface design off as best I could, but it still left of a ghost behind (below).  When I was first working on my Orzo series I was using old products to sketch on.  I liked the turquoise and white, but some of the white got marred up, so I added inside pieces.  Then I got sick of looking at it and kind of bored with the plain design, so I finally decided to rip it off and start again.

Peely.

Some of the vinyl left sticky shadows behind.

I saved some of the orzos I ripped off, but they were kind of mangled.

Here's the ghost from the very first life of this piece.

I painted over the turquoise with purple, neon pink, and white, and then sanded.

Painted and sanded again.  You can see the dark scar left by a piece of vinyl from
an earlier version.  

Tiny vinyl time!  I hand-cut most of these for some reason.
Guess I wanted my hand to go numb (it did!).

With the different directions of the paint strokes it kind of looks like weaving.

Finished piece.
Untitled so far...

This really looks great if you bury your nose in it, seeing all the little brush strokes, stamps, scars, and splotches.  I'm going to look in my Sunflowers poetry book for something to strike my fancy for the title.  It feels like a weird Atomic age landscape right now.  Maybe I'll mine some Ray Bradbury, too.

In That Upper Air

I was asked to make a piece reminiscent of "Crooning Cottonwoods" with some layers added in.  I tackled a 48 x 36 inch aluminum blank with that in mind.

Layer of orzos.

Painted over the vinyl.

Peeled.

Sanded, repainted.

 After a hardy amount of sanding I dug right in with some branchy orzo designs.

Getting close.

I'm glad I kept and enhanced that little island of aluminum
near the bottom.

In That Upper Air, 48 x 36 inches, 2018

The title comes from a poem called "The Thrush" by Amanda T. Jones, who, it turns out, is quite the interesting character.

(from the second stanza)
   "Soon was I made aware
Of his small mate that from the Judas-tree
   Dropped softly, flitting here and flitting there,
And would not seem to hear or seem to see.
   He, in that upper air,
All mindful of her wayward wandering,
   (Primrose and creamy-petaled larkspur bending
And yellow blossomed nettle, prone to sting!)"

Collide, Melt, Vanish

If you've been following along, you might be wondering what happens to the vinyl I use as a resist--does all that go to waste?  Of course not!  I save it if I can and use it over and over...

And maybe someday these will get their own turn in the spotlight.  But for now, just tools.

I wanted to make a piece that was more subtle than some of my others while still using the vinyl resist.  I chose a sweet combo of pink and green and blue for the base.

Only one layer to paint and peel on this one.

Painted over, peeled off, sanded.

You can see the left over paint from applying the vinyl on
past pieces.  Contamination!  I like it.

Trying out colors and orzo directions.

 Pink and bright turquoise might not seem "subtle" but, yeah, relative to my other stuff...

Collide, Melt, Vanish
36 x 24 inches, 2018

 Details!

Metal, paint, vinyl

I rather like the brush strokes.

The title comes from a line from Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury.  Man, that guy could write a descriptive bit of text, couldn't he?

Siblings.
"Upland and Lowland" and "Collide, Melt, Vanish"

Uplands and Lowlands

This piece was all about layering.  I painted the background several times before even attempting to add (and subtract) vinyl pieces.

Warning, these photos are not great.  My bad.

First layer of vinyl orzos.

I painted over the first layer of orzos, peeled them off, and sanded.

I flipped it for easier application, but you get it.

I added the orzos up to about a third where I had them before, painted, peeled, and sanded.

Already looks pretty complicated.

Closer shot.

 Layer three: repeat above steps.

This is before I sanded for the last time but after I painted and peeled.

I sanded and decided I was done.

I had a little bit of an issue deciding where to add the vinyl orzos I wanted to keep because I didn't want to cover up any of the cool design of the overlapping layers.  I ended up frosting the top, basically.

Uplands and Lowlands, 36 x 24 inches, 2018

Detailzz!

I like the little bit of metal peeping out on the edges here.

The title comes from a poem by William Herbert Carruth called "Each in His Own Tongue"

(second stanza)
"A haze on the far horizon,
  The infinite, tender sky,
The ripe, rich tints of the cornfields,
  And the wild geese sailing high;
And all over upland and lowland,
  The harm of the goldenrod--
Some of us call it Autumn,
  And others call it God."

Kind of pagen-esque--I like it even better after revisiting!

Hey, thanks for reading!  More on Instagram!