A Little Life in My Drawings

"I sometimes think there is nothing so delightful as drawing."
Vincent van Gogh 

I have finally, FINALLY, found a life drawing group! I drive 1 hour south of the Bay of Islands once a week, to draw. That's how much I miss being surrounded by artists and getting my hands dirty with charcoal and graphite. Life drawing is one of the few activities that makes me lose track of time. Those who know me, are well aware that I have the attention span of a gnat. Yet, when I have a pencil in my hand and a model before me, I am so focused that I am only aware of time going by when my back starts getting achy.

I'm still finding my way back around curves and lines, but the process is as familiar as it is comfortable.

The Call of the Wild

Opua, New Zealand 

Filling the page

I am far away from the land I have called home for most of my life. Throughout our sea voyage, I wrote. I analyzed and observed from my perch as a sailor and traveler and I have also taken innumerable photos. The last 32 months have crammed themselves into my psyche. I’m bursting at the seams.

And now, I’m drawing.. Faces. I’m obsessed with faces: my partner’s, strangers’ faces, the faces of friends and ex-lovers. I want to draw, draw, draw. It's as if the floodgates have opened.

Drawing like any form of art requires practice. It requires doing over and over. That's the only way to improve, grow and play with ideas. While we sailed our boat across the Pacific I was too busy absorbing my surroundings and rarely picked up a sketchbook. At first I chastised myself, but after a conversation with a fellow artist, I realized that it, whatever “it” is, would come back to me. I needed space to create. And I am carving that space for myself now.

Profile

As I pick up my pencil today, I find my fingers are a little stiff, my drawings lack a certain fluidity. But I’m remembering, and I’m embracing the imperfections as part of the process.

Did I tell you I'm drawing again?



Click on images to enlarge them.

Doing not judging, imperfections welcome

Working on quick choices and trusting the line

Somewhere Over the Horizon

Nyon sailing in the Gulf Islands, Canada

If you are among the few who periodically checks into Musings , please note that this blog will be inactive until further notice. My focus as shifted to my upcoming voyage. If you are interested, you are certainly welcome to  read our blog about our sailing adventures.

I will attempt to continue to do art, and create a space for myself and my studio on our sailboat. I am simply unable to keep up numerous blogs, in the chaos that is planning a sea voyage!

Cheers, Kyra

A Floating Canvas

Home Sweet Home

My partner and I live aboard our Lapworth 36, a lovely 53 year old wooden sailboat. For the past 4 years we have been refitting it for our first offshore voyage. As I have mentioned earlier, we will be leaving Canadian shores in September 2011, heading south. We know we'll be exploring the Sea of Cortez, and beyond that... Well, let's just say our plans are carved in jello. Will we go south or west? The Panama Canal is an option, or we may make our way north again.

We want the freedom of possibilities. The life of seagypsies calls us both. No more 9-5 jobs, (we've never been great at that), no more car, no more routine per se... We know it won't be an easy life, but it will be one rich with experiences and adventure. Should you wish to follow our adventures, follow our log entries here.

Truthfully, we have no idea what it's really going to be like. (So we've been told by the Salty Sailors in our midst). Our boat is our home, my studio, and our main mode of transportation. Home has always been a reflection of us. When my partner suggested we turn it into a mini-gallery, I was game. We decided that our locker doors would make great canvases... And why not? Here is my latest project, an aside, on a long list of boat projects as we prepare for our journey.

Octopus' Garden in Progress

My partner asked for an Octopus' garden in the Head. (The head is the washroom to you landlubbers.) My illustration is not super original, but it was fun to do.

Illustration has always been my first love when it comes to art. They tried to beat it out of me in art school, but it didn't work, I love illustrating. My style evolves and varies greatly depending on the project.

Here is the finished product below. Our head is small, but now it's more colourful. And there is the added bonus of Ethel's company. (Ethel is the octopus.)

Ethel's World

Jellyfish coming to life.

The Galley needed some life added to it too. Some of our friends and family laughed at my ocean theme. I live on a boat, on the ocean, why am I painting all this sea life? Why not something else entirely? I couldn't help myself.

I'm fascinated by jellyfishes. They are beautiful, but they have an air of danger about them. While creating these whimsical images, I was listening to CBC 2, and This American Life . What a fabulous way to spend a few days. 

Our Galley today.

The Art of Working in a Small Space

Mini-Studio

I'm still adjusting to painting aboard our sailboat - I admit at times I feel constrained by the limits of the space. I also miss not being able to make a mess, this is our living space after all. A major clean-up is necessary after each session.

I miss actually standing at the easel. Of course, now that I must work small, due to the size of the cabin, I crave working on a large canvas...

I do, however, love that I don't have to hop on a bus or ride my bike for 30 minutes when I have the urge to paint something "now"! I can drink my coffee while staring at my work to assess my next step, crack open a tube of paint and just begin...

 

Playing With Colour (Inspired by a sketch in "An Illustrated Life")

Leaping (Reference: Anatomy for the Artist)

Porltand Island Resident

The Joy of Sketching

I like the angular quality  in the figure on the right. It's something I have struggled with a lot, while drawing the male figure. I still do.

I sat on a concrete block in December, drawing a store front. The most interesting thing in the drawing is this telephone pole. I tried to capture the details in a very loose way. It feels a bit odd. I usually only get like that when I'm life drawing.

Now, I just begin drawing; not wondering if it's a worthwhile subject to draw, I just do it. The cormorant was fun. I was cleaning the cabin in preparation for our Christmas, on the 24th. He just sat there on the next dock, waiting out the gale force winds. So, I grabbed my sketchbook, and started sketching. He stayed in one position too long, meaning I got finicky; but then he kept darting here and there. The second and third drawings, are more fluid as a result.

Working on a small painting in the cabin.

Art That Makes My Heart Sing

Le double portrait au 
verre de vin by Marc Chagall

I saw this image, (a tiny thumbnail), on the Bau-Xi Facebook page and didn't realize it was a Chagall painting.... It drew me in instantly. His art has done that for me in the past too, apparently I'm a fan of Chagall's work.

Icarus I by Jylian Gustlin

I am continually inspired by Jylian Gustlin, (I've mentioned her before.) She's an artist from San Francisco... Check out her site, it's a feast for the eyes! She works in so many mediums: From digital, to fiber, to mixed media, even photography.

Primary Concern by Michael den Hertog

Michael den Hertog is a Vancouver artist. I have met him and found him to be genial, he also allowed me to pick his brain about the business of art... I own a print by him. Maybe one day, I'll have an original. See his current works gallery here.

Ne me quittes pas by Ken Flett

The first time I saw this next Canadian artist's work, was when one of his pieces was used by the Belfry Theatre on the poster for a production a few years ago. I liked it so much, I searched for more of his works. It's raw and beautiful. I also couldn't help but love the title of this particular piece on the right, as it's a nod to one of my favourite singer songwriters, Jacques Brel. Ken Flett's works must be seen in person to really be appreciated.

Study For A Saint About To Fall by Rachel Berman

I spend a lot of time, looking at art. I'm one of those people that loves art history as well as visiting my contemporaries' studios. When an artist's style varies greatly from mine, I still find inspiration in their technique or their vision. I can count many artists among my friends. Each one is unique. I remember laughing with Rachel Berman in a bookstore, (a fabulous and inspiring artist), about how we just loved talking about art but that it was hard to get to work right after conversations about it, because we get too wound up in our excitement!

Illustrating Life

I can spend hours browsing in a bookstore... Luckily, both my partner and I are like that, so there's no one waiting impatiently. It's a time we both relish.

Last week, I wandered alone into Munro's Bookstore. I'd been looking for something in particular. Of course, I ended up in the art section. This book caught my eye immediately.

“An Illustrated Life: Drawing Inspiration From The Private Sketchbooks Of Artists, Illustrators And Designers.” by Danny Gregory

I picked it up and started looking through it. I was met with a wide variety of sketches upon sketches. Some are very loose, others are little gems of detail. For this compilation, Danny Gregory  interviewed some 40 artists about their process. He includes plenty of examples from their private sketchbooks and illustrated journals.

Playing with textures

How fabulous is that? Very fabulous when you've spent the last few months struggling with creating art, and not finding the joy in it. Then you see how these artists of every stripe just go on filling journals with sketches, good or bad, doesn't matter. It's about doing it. Period. What it comes down to is, it just keeps you limber, like physical exercise. I'd forgotten about that.

Reading in the Cabin

Yes! I thought. I can do that!(I have done that.) No rules? Even better. (I am however, choosing to not rip out pages. I don't want to focus on the product, only the process. There is so much freedom in that.) Just draw what you see, what you're thinking, what you wish you could see, ideas, whatever. It was worth the 20-something dollars I spent on this book, if only to be reminded of what I already knew. And as I sketch, I am grateful for that serendipitous moment, when this book offered itself up to me.

Hm. Pentel brush pen or graphite pencil today... If only making decisions was always this much fun.

Not Just a Blog

I am in love with this blog...

 Missed Connections 

Through the Lens

When my life as a sailor began, I discovered the joys of spontaneous photo-taking. What I mean is, I started shooting anything and everything. My introduction to living on the water opened me up to a whole new visual way of experiencing life, nature, and myself.


I am by no means a "photographer" in the proper sense of the word. But I am an artist. I view the world through my slightly skewed and unique perspective.

Taking photos allows me to play with composition, colour and even abstraction. Happy accidents often inform future paintings or drawing, in ways I hadn't anticipated.

Last night, after an evening with friends, between the rainfall, fog, and lights, I stood in the cockpit of my boat, camera in hand. I continued taking photos once back in the cabin.

This is a glimps of that magical moment.

Words that Inspire

Today's offering... A poem by one of my favourite poets.

Starlings in Winter

Starlings in Winter

Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers,
they spring from the telephone wire
and instantly

they are acrobats
in the freezing wind.
And now, in the theater of air,
they swing over buildings,

dipping and rising;
they float like one stippled star
that opens,
becomes for a moment fragmented,

then closes again;
and you watch
and you try
but you simply can’t imagine

how they do it
with no articulated instruction, no pause,
only the silent confirmation
that they are this notable thing,

this wheel of many parts, that can rise and spin
over and over again,
full of gorgeous life.

Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,
even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;

I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard.  I want

to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.

(Mary Oliver)

An Artist's Recovery - Part I

 

So here I am. No official studio. Has there been denial? Yep. Has there been the urge to create? Yessir. Has there been motivation to create? Yes and no. After a long break,it's all a little daunting.

Let's just say, I'm adjusting.

Life on a boat is ideal for me. If only for the sheer pleasure of being able to explore the Pacific Northwest without leaving my home behind. I'm kind of like a turtle. I wake up one morning, and see Victoria's famous Blue Bridge out of my galley portlight. The next morning, I'm looking into the cove a lovely green island, the sounds of wildlife greeting me, as I step into the cockpit.


This lifestyle also reflects my priorities: Finding pleasure in simplicity, reducing comsumerism in my daily life, (there's little room to accumulate material objects on a sailboat).

And of course,  we have a smaller carbon footprint.
(We are still working on that - this winter, among other things, we will finally be able to install solar power.)


The question is: Can a boat be ideal for a studio?
A working studio?
I like to think it can be.

There needs to be a paradigm shift. Think smaller. Use different approaches. I'm lucky. I got a little bit of help. For my birthday, my partner and our friends pooled their money and bought me a small, tabletop easel.

I sorted through my art box. I have lots of supplies, but I'm narrowing them down to two boxes for now. This one contains my dry mediums as well as inks.

I got an odd pleasure from emptying this box, sorting and organizing all the bits and pieces, and then putting them back.

My hands became dirty from handling charcoal bits. I became excited as I considered my supplies. This is familiar. When I was in grade school I would set out all my brand-new school supplies on my bed, handling them gently, even smelling them. (Hey, I've always been a little weird.) I have a strong appreciation for endless possibilities.

Today I also bought a cheap 9"x12" sketchbook at my favourite art store.
Now, I need to remind myself that I love drawing.

I think I'm ready.

Back to the Basics

Yes, it's time for an overhaul. The artist in me hasn't disappeared. It's just a little quiet.

I have given up my lovely studio, it seemed to be the right decision for the time being, but it has left a hole behind. I'm shrinking my practice to the sailboat, as I am a liveaboard. I have a desire to work smaller. To go back to the basics. To sketch. Draw.

This feels like a time of transition that has been a long time coming. So in this introspective time, I'm also taking the opportunity to explore other artists: their work, their process...

Here is an artist I am very fond of... she inspires me and her work is so very rich. Her name is Jylian Gustlin. Go here to see to see more of her creations. I particularly love her sketches,  see them here.

Icarus 11 by Jylian Gustlin

Her images are raw and powerful.

I am in love with the textures and colours.

The figures.

All of it.

Sacred Spaces

I learned in my travels that visual artists will adapt to just about any space to produce art... I once thought I needed the "perfect" studio. I have had a variety of studios over the years and I do believe a lovely space (whatever that means to you,) does enhance the creative process. However, limited space or resources should not stop one from creating art. I hope that sometime in the future, I'll be sailing offshore...   At some point, I will need to "shrink" my studio to fit on the sailboat. In the meantime, I get to enjoy a wonderful little studio.

When we moved to a small town nearly 10 years ago, we rented a high-ceilinged appartment - and with some ingenuity, created a workspace that I used while I attended Art School. If you look carefully, we created the illusion of a wall that still allowed light through to the rest of the living space. It was a small step up from the unused corners  I'd been using until then.

When we moved, I rented a studio.  It had become necessary. I have no pictures of it, it was a moldy-smelling empty storefront. My studio mate and I were too cheap to pay for heat and it was a rather cold space, but it allowed me to work freely when we initially bought a house that didn't have a space ready for me to use.

This picture shows the detached garage on our property that we eventually transformed into my studio. We insulated and re-wired it, and added two large north-facing windows. This was by far my biggest studio. I had lots of room, it was ideal for life drawing and painting.

Here, I am back to working in an apartment corner after relocating to Victoria. I was lucky, my partner was willing to share the living room with my studio. We were refitting our sailboat with the goal to move aboard, so this was a perfectly adequate work space for the time being.

And then there was the hidden gazebo... Once I moved aboard the sailboat, I rented this studio with a friend. A hidden space on an undeveloped property in Oak Bay. It was a little wild, racoons and deer often visited. We worked with gloves and a little space heater in the winter, and it smelled a bit funny - squirrels lived in the ceiling. Ugh.

For about a year, I used another friend's basement as my studio. The ceiling was low but the lighting was rather good - another artist had used the space before. It was a temporary and affordable solution.

And this takes me to my present studio. I took the time to paint the walls, and dig out some of my special "treasures" from storage. I hadn't seen my tin boxes and knick-knacks for the 3 years I've been living on the boat.  I believe I've mentioned this before:  The studio is in a household of artists who are great friends. It's not very big, but it's a very lovely space. And there's a wonderful creative energy in the house. My partner and I spend a fair bit of time there when we're not sailing. Can you blame us? There is a bathtub! (Oh and cool people  are living there too...)

I think of my studio as a vegetable garden, 

where things follow their natural course. They grow, they ripen. 

You have to graft. You have to water. 

(Joan Miro)