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

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)

Ch - ch - changes

It's a new year, I've been absent from blogging for a while. I was busy moving studios. I now find myself in a bright, smallish studio in a house full of artists... Does it get any better?

I hope that a lovely space will help stir creativity. I am still setting it up with that goal, but it is already a working studio.

Look at what greeted me my first work day in the studio. That must be a good omen... At least I'd like to think so. Apparently, I'm a sucker for rainbows. It's all Kermit's fault.

the joys of squeezing paint out of a tube...