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)

Anatomy of a Painting

 

the rebirth of rose

2010

I've always had a passion for painting the human figure. Through the painting process I attempt to get glimpses of my subject's personal story. When I paint a woman in particular, I wish to honour her essence, and in turn, I explore my own vulnerability and strength as a woman.

To paint a figure honestly, to paint the humanness inside the person, through their physicality, or to paint a woman's facial expression, so that it feels like it is filled with thoughts is a wonderful challenge.

 

Renoir had not only a great interest in human character, in human feeling, but had also a great love for the people he painted. (Robert Henri)

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...

Memories of Christmas Past

i came across an image on stephanie levy's blog, that made me feel like i was 5 again. as i was scrolling down, this came up to meet me.

suddenly, i was filled with memories of sitting near the christmas tree as a child, squinting at the lights and my heart swelling with pleasure. there really is no other way to describe it. the beautiful simplicity of lights strung in a tree was pure magic.

smells are also great memory carriers... the smell of pine and cinammon-scented candles. i don't immediately recollect the chaos, or complications of christmases gone by... just the simple colours, scents and childlike wonder.

The Human Figure

What we need is more sense of the wonder of life, and less of the business of making a picture. (Robert Henri)   

Robert Henri's "The Art Spirit", is a book I often pick up and read at random. I feel as though I found a kindred spirit in a man who lectured and wrote about art in the early 1900's... There is this dicotomy in how he views life and art - a certain childlike wonder that comes through as profound wisdom... hard to beat that!

What draws me into my studio? A sure-fire thing, is to have a model, bits of charcoal, a few sheets of paper, (it can be cheap cartridge paper or a delicious piece of BFK Rives, no matter). The human figure is the single most inspiring thing for me to paint or draw. Robert Henri says it perfectly when he states:

There has never been a painting that was more beautiful than nature. The model does not unfold herself to you, you must rise to her. She should be the inspiration for your painting. No [artist] has ever over-appreciated a human being.   

The two drawings above are from a commission I have just completed. Soon, I'll be moving studios, I look forward to a new space (above ground) with good northern light... 

 

Expressing Creativity Beyond the Canvas

 Creativity comes in many forms.

This is a view of the blood, sweat and tears of the past summer.
(Or should I say, the past 3 years...)

I love art. I also love my boat...
Allow me to introduce our boat and home, S.V. Nyon. 

Isn't she pretty?

On a side note, the yellow deck was my idea.

Our artist friends love it, our sailor friends think we're crazy.

But that's okay. We never had beige walls when we lived on land.

Why should it be any different with a sailboat?

Canvases come in many forms.

I'm proud of this masterpiece.

We call it our labour of love.

These lovely photos were taken by Julie Crouzat