Homework. This could require thinking.
Ricë and I had a good talk last month about getting to know yourself and your art better... what really excites you, what medium/media you love so much you want to marry it, things like that. Like decorative paper and transparencies and stuff. (See more on my Flickr pages.)
She suggested I get off my ass and do some deep thinking about these things. The threat of her nagging me to do so reared its head also. So I've been thinking. (Yes, that was the source of the smoke you smelled.) I hate hate hate homework, but I've been thinking.
In my last piece, Dryad and Child, I was thinking about the face(s) I mean to show to the world, and the ones that show whether you know it or not. When I was younger, I thought one had to be the real thing, and the other was fake or not as authentic. (I was a teenager. Cut me some slack.) But I now think it's more like parts fade in and out, depending on circumstances.
Even with children. Which is why I printed one face, and layered another on top, on both figures. You look at one face, then the other, then back to wonder what one face expresses or conceals...
Another element of these shifting perceptions: all of the faces I used are of African Americans. Even the transparency face. They're just different shades of black people.
So I guess essentially, I like translucent layers, especially faces, because you can see two elements at a time and your mind shifts back and forth from one perception to another. My clever Artfest roomies Cheryl and Layla picked up on that right away.
That's why I like lace paper so much, and the semi-translucent white leaves on the dryad's over-skirt. I used to adore vellum when I first started making cards, for the same reason. The delicacy obscures, but doesn't completely hide, the layer beneath. This piece was the first I've made where I think that interest came out to the fore.
Dryad and Child is for sale (email me if you're interested), mainly because I want someone else to be as fascinated by the faces as I am. I plan on putting the piece on my Etsy store tomorrow.
She suggested I get off my ass and do some deep thinking about these things. The threat of her nagging me to do so reared its head also. So I've been thinking. (Yes, that was the source of the smoke you smelled.) I hate hate hate homework, but I've been thinking.
In my last piece, Dryad and Child, I was thinking about the face(s) I mean to show to the world, and the ones that show whether you know it or not. When I was younger, I thought one had to be the real thing, and the other was fake or not as authentic. (I was a teenager. Cut me some slack.) But I now think it's more like parts fade in and out, depending on circumstances.
Even with children. Which is why I printed one face, and layered another on top, on both figures. You look at one face, then the other, then back to wonder what one face expresses or conceals...Another element of these shifting perceptions: all of the faces I used are of African Americans. Even the transparency face. They're just different shades of black people.
So I guess essentially, I like translucent layers, especially faces, because you can see two elements at a time and your mind shifts back and forth from one perception to another. My clever Artfest roomies Cheryl and Layla picked up on that right away.
That's why I like lace paper so much, and the semi-translucent white leaves on the dryad's over-skirt. I used to adore vellum when I first started making cards, for the same reason. The delicacy obscures, but doesn't completely hide, the layer beneath. This piece was the first I've made where I think that interest came out to the fore.Dryad and Child is for sale (email me if you're interested), mainly because I want someone else to be as fascinated by the faces as I am. I plan on putting the piece on my Etsy store tomorrow.
Let's give 'em somethin' to talk about
Hey y'all -- exciting news! I've been picked to be next month's Gypsy Bonfire contributor!Now I know I don't have to tell you much about Lisa Hoffman. She's one of the journal contributors of True Colors: A Palette of Collaborative Art Journals. Actually, Lisa originated two journals; one was lost in the mail for a bit, so she started another. (Isn't that book like visual crack? Except without the need for rehab.)
On her blog, she has a section where she invites people to tell stories. The kind of stories you'd hear if you were actually hanging out in person. The idea is to provide a place where all us like-minded folks can get to know each other better, even if we never meet in person. So I dug up some pictures of when I was Skeeny (skinny as all get out) and coughed up a few words to string it all together. Lisa and I talked last Friday, and we're officially sharing all sorts of inappropriate information with each other. (Kidding!) Find out which story made the cut.
And tell everyone to tune in May first! Hey, that's May Day. (Try not to think too hard about what dancing around the maypole means.)
Last bits of Artfest
Show and Tell Night was probably even more of a madhouse than Vendor Night, because the rooms in which the art was spread out were more cramped. And of course people want to linger over pieces they like. But it was worth braving the crowd.The idea is to give you a chance to see what everyone else has been working on in the previous days, and to give you ideas of what you might like to take next year. (Next year?! Can I recover from this year first?!)
I realized that I missed Michael de Meng's classes... I had a ton o' fun in his "Six Million Dollar Man" class back at Art & Soul.
His Morpheus Box class this time really appealed to me (the one in the center, next photo). I think it's the kinetic element -- look, it moves! It does tricks!
Oh, man, check out this artist's Woven Narrative. 
Coincidentally, I had tried something similar in my Someday artist book.
Anahata's Symbolic Icons still appeal to me, but I have to get over the "my stuff looks like a poor imitation of someone else's stuff" thing. This is how you learn, goofball.
I ran into Michael and complimented him on his collaborations with Judy Wilkenfeld, an artist who will floor you with her heritage-inspired works. (He's her beau, too.) Then he said, "hey, in a minute we're all going to go into another room and Judy's going to show her Twelve Tribes book. Do you want to see it?"Um, no, I have to meet my crack dealer in ten minutes. OF COURSE I wanted to see it!
The book is an enormous, hand-bound, awe-inspiring artist book detailing the twelve tribes of ancient Israel -- you know, the sons of Jacob: Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar, Zebulun, Benjamin, Dan, Naphtali, Gad, Asher and Joseph. (Read her March 21st post to get the details.)
Every last detail contains meaning on each page. It's impressive if you don't know much biblical history, but it'll bring you to your knees if you've ever read the Bible's descriptions of each tribe. (Deryn, if you're reading this, you have got to see this on Judy's blog.)I got a better chance to see the book myself when I went into Port Townsend the next day with Julie and Janine. Judy and Michael were showing it to one of the local gallery owners, and I took pictures of the page devoted to Asher.
Back when we were deciding what to name The Boy (yes, he has a real name), The Husband and I considered naming the baby Asher. It means "happy." (But then I remembered, our kid is half-black. Other black people will shorten his name to Ashy -- which is what black people call skin -- especially at the knees and elbows -- that's so dry it turns white. Um, no.)Judy really appreciated what I remember of my Bible... I had piped up when she was describing the hand attached to the Benjamin page. Benjamin's mother Rachel, who died after giving birth to him, named him "Ben Oni", which means "my son." But her husband Jacob overruled that and named him Benjamin, which means "son of my right hand" in Hebrew. Judy actually used a left hand, for reasons I really wish I could remember... Oh, it's just so beautiful. Go look at Judy's pictures; they're far better than mine.
I could've stayed much longer, of course, but I had to get back to The Husband and The Boy and make sure they were still in their respective pieces. I didn't worry about them while I was gone, but then when I headed for the ferry home, suddenly I had to keep myself from imagining all sorts of catastrophes. So I distracted myself by thinking about sorting through all my trades...
and I headed home.Artfest was wonderful, and wondrous, but until maybe today I felt like my innards were turned inside out. I guess it was the extended amount of time spent creatively exposed. I'm just now thinking of making something, anything, new.