Student works

From now on, I will be posting examples of my students' works on my Teaching Blog, rather than this Art Blog.

To view works by students in my Fall 2010 Professional Development Watercolor 2 class, please click here.

Origins: Part 2, My Graduate School Experience

Here's the second part to a series I started last month, in which I show my earlier works and trace how I found my voice as an artist.

This entry is about my graduate school experience. (Below is "Scaffold," one of my favorite paintings from this period.)



I almost didn't go to graduate school at all.

I applied to both the Massachusetts College of Art and the School of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. My grandparents had wanted me to go to the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth ever since 1979, when I was applying to undergraduate programs, because it was located near their town. I always scoffed because I wanted to move to the Big City (to me, that was Boston!). But when my grandmother heard I was applying to graduate school in 1991, she wrote to the UMass Dartmouth admissions office and asked for information on their College of Visual and Performing Arts. I humored her when she placed the catalog in my hand, but I knew I would never go there. I had my heart set on graduate school in Boston, where, by that time, I had lived for the past 14 years. And I had no doubt that one of the Boston area graduate programs I had applied to would accept me.

My grandmother died while I was waiting to hear back from the various schools, and since I was visiting my grandfather a lot at that time, I decided to schedule a trip to UMass Dartmouth during one of my visits to his house. I called the department chair and he arranged for me to meet one of the painting professors and tour the facilities. My grandfather drove me to the appointment, and he looked so proud and happy as he was dropping me off.

I looked all around the building for the professor I had been scheduled to meet, but no one had seen him. I finally found an isolated office with a suited administrator sitting at her desk, and I told her about my appointment. She knew nothing about it, but she was kind enough to call the professor's office and ask around. No one had seen him and no one knew anything about our appointment. "I don't want to go to this school," I thought to myself, "if they can't even keep a scheduled appointment with a prospective student. Forget this place! I would never go here."

So I returned home and waited for my acceptance letters from Mass Art and the Museum School. They never came, but two rejection letters did. And finally, so did an acceptance letter from UMass Dartmouth, where I had already made up my mind not to go. My heart sank! But then I thought, "Do I want to go to graduate school or don't I? If I want to go, here is the path that has opened to me."

It was fortunate that I was flexible enough to revise my decision, because from that moment on, UMass Dartmouth was the PERFECT place for me. It was time for me to break from city life and move to the peaceful beauty of seaside Southcoast Massachusetts. My adviser, Willoughby Elliott, was supportive and generous (and, by the way, NOT the professor who had stood me up!). Bill realized that I was just finding myself as an artist, and his mentoring instincts told him when to gently question what I was doing and when to just leave me alone and let me do my thing. I also made many many wonderful friends among my fellow students. (Below is a view of my studio at graduate school.)



I happily displayed 7 large paintings at my thesis show in 1997 (me beside "Scaffold" at the opening reception, below, photo by my dear friend Alma Cummings):



The crowning touch of the experience was that the legendary actor Anthony Quinn, who was also a visual artist, was the guest speaker at graduation the year I graduated. Mr. Quinn visited the thesis show exhibit and stopped at my paintings, calling them "beautiful"! This caused the school's president to contact me and ask if I would show additional paintings on the walls of the university's gala celebration to honor Mr. Quinn. My first solo show! (Below is a view of me talking with Mr. Quinn at the gala, taken by Alma Cummings.)



UMass Dartmouth was the perfect experience for me. I laugh when I think that I almost didn't go to school there at all, and I feel a twinge when I realize that, if it hadn't been for my grandmother sending for that catalog, I would never have gone. She was right all along! (Below are "Thorn" and "Thaw," two other paintings from my graduate thesis show. All of these works are acrylic, oil stick, paper and fabric on canvas, and approximately 60" H x 50" W.)

Series continues

Continuing to work on this series, both on canvas and on paper. Still untitled and unconsidered (intellectually, at least); I'm just enjoying the variations in texture and color.

Here's a 20" gray-toned work on canvas, followed by a detail:






Here's a 20" gold-toned work on canvas, followed by a detail:






And here is a dark green work on paper, also 20" square, followed by a detail:






More 40" stretchers, waiting in the wings ... I'm hankering to do a red and a darker gray one.

Art in my house

It's the time of year to be especially thankful, and as I look around my house, I appreciate the works of art by artist friends who have gifted me with their work or traded it to me in exchange for a piece of mine. Seeing their creations every day brightens my world, and inspires me in my own studio.

This painting is by Deborah Bohnert, one of my favorite artists, who lives and works in Marblehead, Massachusetts. She creates assemblages and installations of unexpected materials and brilliant colors. But her work isn't just about making a wild visual statement; there is a tender respect for humanity underlying each piece. I have hung her painting in my bedroom; it is clearly visible once you reach the top of the stairs. I love the vibrant red peeking out from the fading purple, and I want to make sure it can't be missed!




This work is by Lynda Ray, who currently resides and works in Richmond, Virginia. Lynda creates mostly with encaustic, but this particular piece was from an exhibit she was in at the Akin Gallery in Boston in 1991. It is made from strips of wood joined in an exquisite pattern and colored a deep alizarin. It is a quiet, contemplative piece, so I have tucked it into a sunny but private corner of my bedroom. I think of it like a Russian icon, meant to be meditated upon in peaceful moments of pause.




This painting is a glowing beach landscape by Wendy Soneson, a master watercolorist. We have been close friends for many years, having met each other as students at Lesley University back in 1993. Wendy told me, when she gave me this piece as a Christmas gift, that the figures on the beach reminded her of us, on one of our many long contemplative walks together. It is placed in my yellow-striped upstairs bathroom.




Here is our mantlepiece in the living room, the focal point of the first floor, which holds works by Lasse Antonsen and Robert Collins. Lasse is a professor and the gallery curator at the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth, where I met him when I was a graduate student there in the mid-90s. He is also an artist, and his witty and thought-provoking assemblages often contain historical references and actual artifacts framed in curio cabinets or, as in this piece, deep shadow boxes.

The square painting on the right is by Robert Collins. Bob and I have been teaching together at the Danforth Museum School in Framingham for many years. He is a most devoted instructor, and a warm and generous colleague. Even though he teaches 3 classes a day, 6 days a week (!), he still manages to create with diligence in his studio.



I consider myself most fortunate to know these wonderful people and talented artists, and I am pleased to share my home with their creations.

Paint continues to flow

Working all weekend on this new series and continue to be very pleased with the results. I am consciously trying to create a body of work, which is difficult for me, as my Gemini mind gets bored easily once I've developed a new technique, and starts wandering hither and yon.

My goal is to have 10 works on canvas that are 20 inches square, 5 that are 40 inches square, and 10 works on paper, also 20 inches square. I haven't imposed a time limit on myself, but the ideas and works keep flowing.

I am having great trouble taking any sort of decent photos! I can see that I'll have to go to the professional photographer to shoot these for me once the series is realized.

Here is a closeup of a light silvery gray one that is 40 inches square:




Here are some of the works on paper, in the intial white stage, still drying. (I always smile when I hear someone say they get frustrated that acrylic paint dries so fast. I always have two fans trained on the work, and I stand there impatiently waiting for it to dry!)




Here's one of the works on paper. It has a black first layer, then a layer of alizarin crimson.

More extruded layers

Continuing with the same techniques as the Graphite series, with increasingly complex patterns. One of these new pieces is a brown hue, one is gray ... 20 inches by 20 inches ... still trying to figure out what I'm doing with them, but I'm very happy with the textures.

"Graphite" series

Made this series of 3 pieces, titled "Graphite," last night/this morning. Each painting is 20 inches square.






I'm excited about the technique I used to make them. The lines are acrylic extruded through a squeeze bottle (originally white on a canvas painted white). The backgrounds are tiny amounts of black paint, lightly brushed on, over and over, back and forth. The diluted paint leaves a smooth trace going over the paint lines, but it sinks into the absorbent canvas and shows off the cross-weave texture.

I like the way this technique and coloration together give the look of graphite pencil marks on textured paper (hence the title), even though those aren't the actual materials used. In other words, it looks "dry" but it was made "wet."


Here are closeups of the surface of each of the three.

Studio happenings

Welcome to my studio this morning! Here are a few new pieces. This one (40 inches square) I just completed and I'm happy with what happened. I wasn't able to apply the final blue wash evenly (if you go over any one area too many times, the white lines get covered), but this ended up creating depth and a sense of a downward vertical rushing movement.




Here's a smaller piece (20 inches square) that didn't turn out as expected, but I like what happened:




By accident, I discovered this dry brush technique (the light areas), so I think I'll try it again on a larger painting.




And here's a little shot of my studio floor! Don't wear your new Manolo Blahniks in here.

Two distinct viewpoints

Back to painting after a few weeks of consciously taking a step back and some time away from my studio. A little time not painting gives me, when I come back, a fresh perspective on what I'm trying to say when I paint.

This morning I finished a piece that had been almost done for a month or so, and I also started a new one. The contrast in their two styles reminds me that I regularly go back and forth between two distinct approaches: one which places the viewer in a definite location, and one in which there is no discernable reference point.

The "you are here" works, which are often stripe-oriented and seem to have some reference to a horizon line (that's why people often say they see landscapes in there, I think), are like the ones below. They are usually vertical rectangles.






And the paintings which are "surroundings" and don't have any sense of orientation are like the ones below, usually in a square format:






I need to make both types of work, as they both reveal different sensations and ideas.

These natural pauses in creation time, to me, are healthy and productive, although I know many people view them as "artist's block" and are afraid of them. But I believe that time away from painting reinforces in my mind the reason that I'm an artist in the first place: because I love it. And I love it because I want to see how the visions that pop into my imagination will look in real life, pure and simple. Sure, a bunch of shows and sales are great. But the REALLY great part is just grabbing that paint and pouring, brushing, drizzling, scraping, blotting, layering, and everything else!!

My works available at Holiday Sale

Five of my paintings will be available for purchase at the Holiday Sale at the Danforth Museum of Art, which runs from November 13 to December 19. Two of them are pictured, below; each is acrylic on paper and canvas, 8 inches square. For more information, please click here.

"Wine Lines" headed to Newton exhibit

Earlier this week, I dropped off my painting for "Icons + Altars," an annual holiday exhibit at the New Art Center in Newton, MA. The piece is titled "Wine Lines," made from acrylic on fabric and paper on board, 12 inches square. For more information on the exhibit, please click here.