Ancient Artist: Developing an art career after 50

Sunday Salon: Sitting Down With Dawn Goldsmith

 

I recently connected with Dawn Goldsmith, a warm and talented free-lance writer who authors two excellent blogs: Subversive Stitchers: Women Armed with Needles, and WordsoGold.  She requested a guest interview with me about Ancient Artist for her Subversive Stitchers blog, and I agreed, but only if she returned the favor and let me post about what she is writing about, what inspires her, and how synchronicity plays such a valuable role in her life.  I think you will find her as warm, generous, and inspiring as I did. (Viewing Tip: you can easily enlarge the type on this blog by holding down the CTRL key while pressing the +  (plus) key several times.  To reduce the size, use the CTRL key and the - (minus) key.)

I'm a nut about synchronicity, and where it leads me. If I pay attention and ACT upon the messages that come floating into my life, I am enriched!

My Subversive Stitchers: Women Armed with Needles blog is an act of synchronicity. The title came to me for a piece of fiction I 'needed' to write. But the novel didn't come together. I didn't want to forget the name. I didn't want to lose the connection it gave me to stitchers throughout the ages. Madam Defarge, Ruth McDowell, the line of women on both sides of my family tree who made utilitarian quilts with their prayers and beliefs and messages stitched in them. The Red Cross Quilts and Temperance Quilts and Abolition quilts and myths of Underground Railroads, and the symbolism of quilts including Celtic quilts. Quilts have offered comfort in every war. Every disaster and illness. I like to be connected to that aspect of quilts as well as the beauty they offer. Even ugly quilts are beautiful. And then there is the community of fabric lovers, not just quilters; fabric and yarn seem to bind us together in a community of extreme caring and generous spirit of sharing.

I knew quilts and I were to walk the path of life together when I hung my grandmother's 'fish and baskets' quilt on my living room wall. My boys named it 'fish and baskets' because one of the baskets turned sideways and looked like a fish. It reminded them of a Sunday school story and reminded me of Grandma's belief that nothing should be perfect. I imagine she turned that square sideways to achieve imperfection. One night I could not sleep, it was a full moon and the living room was nicely lit. I glanced at the quilt and it was different. The fish and baskets were gone and in its place I saw Greek urns and a different pieced background. The moonlight reacted with the background fabric making it step forward and the baskets disappeared into the shadows. I awoke the whole house to see the transformation. None of us look at quilts quite the same way after that.

So the Subversive Stitchers seemed a natural progression after a few essays sold to Christian Science Monitor about Real Men knitting and going to quilt shows. These are still my most favorite personal essays. I would love to do a full series of real men essays - of course the 'real man' is my husband, Derrol. He's also frugal in a generous way - he has always been my best subject for profitable essays.

Let me just clarify that I don't see myself as a creative person, which may explain my awe and adoration of the things people are doing who are guest blogging at Subversive Stitchers.  I am, if you haven't figured out by now, not a very good maker of quilts. The one I actually made - an Irish chain quilt - was burned up in a house fire. My collection of finished projects is quite small, but my stack of UFOs has been growing since I started Subversive Stitchers. I get inspired and then I find another guest blogger and get inspired again. And again. Someday I may finish them.

I make things that serve a purpose or for gifts and those are for people who want things to serve purposes, so I rarely just create for the sake of creating. I took a class with Lyric Kinard about Playing with Paints and realized that I absolutely do not play enough. 

If we are talking about fabric creativity then I would say being an observer has been a detriment. Art is hands on and jump right in and do it. See what others are doing; get tips and technique help, perhaps. But the best way to get a feel for the materials and equipment is to use them. The more I do, the more I grow.

As I mentioned in the blog, I have very little of my own work. If I actually make anything I give it away. Or as with the one bed quilt - it burned up in a house fire. I've attached photos of several projects that are in various stages of construction. The only one finished is the red and white nine-patch/red-work little quilt and the table runner. My 'art' is more with words.

I'm a freelance writer. I’m always writing or thinking about writing. But my priorities are at a strange intersection. As my husband’s health threatens to make him stop working, I need to be finding a money-making line of writing. Yet at the same time, my need to focus on creative writing keeps pressing me to devote more time to fiction. I have not resolved this situation. Ideally writing a best selling novel would take care of both needs. In all honesty, as the situation with my husband’s health continues, it becomes harder for me to think of anything but him. It is difficult to summon the energy or the focus to act upon any inspiration that might hit me on the head.

Normally my inspiration came in synchronistic or random pairings of events, words, thoughts, things. For example a discussion with a distant cousin where we reminisced about Grandma Molly’s house and the plants that the kids brought from school – arbor day handouts. They planted these in her yard which reminded me of heirloom plants and that led to an essay about the heirloom ‘plants’ growing on the family tree.

A thing that motivated another essay was a simple knitted potholder. Another inspiration – the scar on my thumb reminded me of conversations while washing dishes with Mom. Another inspiration – the neighbor woman, in her 70s or 80s, on a winter day came to our house, dropped down in the yard and made a snow angel in the fresh snow. It was her last visit, she was dying. And how the snow angel connected to death and dying with dignity. Watching the shuttle launch from our back yard for the first time reminded me of how I’ve grown up with the space race.

 

Any advice I can give may only work for me. But I suggest finding the story of small things and how they connect to the most surprising things. The pot holder connected to gender roles. An early Christmas gift related to the change in the relationship between parents and adult children. Watching sandhill cranes chase the neighbor’s cat reminded me that I live in a Dr. Seuss world…. All of these thoughts were explored in essays that sold to The Washington Post, Christian Science Monitor, NBC News, Catholic Today, Birds and Blooms, etc. etc. etc. And as some of my favorite authors suggest: Butt in chair and write!

In writing, observation is part of the job since the majority of my writings are nonfiction for newspapers. But at the same time in writing the only way to become a great writer is to write. So there’s a balance between observing and doing.  

Now that I have reached a certain age and place in my life, I’m trying to find my way back to ‘play.’

 

Perhaps I just need to heed a poem by John H. Rhoades that I found on a very strong synchronistic day, titled Do More:

 

Do more

Do more than exist; live.

Do more than touch; feel.

Do more than look; observe.

Do more than read; absorb.

Do more than hear; listen.

Do more than listen; understand.

Do more than think; ponder.

Do more than talk; say something.

                                        ~by John H Rhoades

 

                                                                                       ~ Dawn Goldsmith, November 2009

 

Please visit Dawn's excellent blogs - you will find inspiration, laughter, camaraderie, and...synchronicity.  You won't be disappointed.

Subversive Stitchers: Women Armed with Needles

 

WordsoGold

 

The Creative Brain

This is an art test:

• Without thinking, clasp your hands together.  Which thumb is on top? 

• Hold a straight object ( like a pencil or paint brush handle) out at arm's length, upright and lined up on an object across the room.  Using both eyes, focus on the pencil and slowly pull it toward you until it's about a foot or less from your nose.  Now close each eye, one at a time and see which eye is dominant (with your dominant eye, the pencil does not move, with the other eye, the pencil will jump over a notch).

• Do you ever pick up a book or magazine and start thumbing through it backward, using your non-dominant hand?

• Have you ever considered yourself to be ambidextrous?

Actually this isn't an art test, but a creativity test to see how well your right and left brain hemispheres work together.  If you are more of a *mixed-hander* you noticed something odd in the above tests.  Do you write with your right hand, but your left thumb, your left eye, and your left hand thumbing through magazines backward all cropped up?  There's a possible explanation why and you can read about it here.

But this is only a test.  Just for fun.  If it were real... 

My thanks to ArtsJournal: Daily Arts News for the link in this article. 

Redefining Your Expectations

One of my goals this year has been to be ruthless when it comes to evaluating my own work. 

It's not easy to evaluate accurately, or summon the courage to take a moderately successful painting and re-work it.  But that is my challenge.

In a previous post I talked about my thought process as I worked on the painting "Early Light."  I had been focused on issues in the middle ground around a center of interest.  When I finished the painting, I thought I had achieved the goals I'd set for myself, but after studying it for several days I concluded that the painting, while pleasant, did not communicate the experience that inspired it.

Early Light, First Version

There were several areas in the first version of Early Light that bothered me. 

I truly felt the line of yellow trees appeared staged - which of course they were. 

I also felt I'd not achieved sufficient light in my shadowed bank, and had not left enough *air* in the painting as the trees move back into the distance.  Some of my edges were not skillfully rendered, particularly  where the water meets the rocks.

There was not enough variety or unity in the trees or the foreground, in that some surfaces were very uniformly painted (something I'd intended but which didn't work) and the trees - well, there were some beautifully rendered trees in the first version, but your eye jumps from tree to tree and they were so perfect they could have been painted at a tree farm.  I wanted to convey the wildness of the area.  In the second version I think you take in "trees" in one glance - enough information to inform while allowing imagination to take it from there.

The painting over all was cooler than I wanted, a consequence of my inexperience in painting on a very warm ground, and I hadn't captured the sense of light visually the way I remembered it emotionally.  I tried warming the foreground, but as we learn one way or the other, once you start messin' with the color you're messin' with the entire painting.  No *just one bravura stroke* in my bag of tricks yet. 

Early Light Second Version

So this is what I ended up with, after moments of complete doubt about my decision to repaint, as well as confidence in my ability to *fix things.* 

But, after letting go of my apprehensions and believing in my ability to do what I intended,  I am much happier with the second version of this painting.  The color is warmer, more earthy.  The water and the rocks along the bank create a sense of solid ground, while the edges (lines) help move the eye back into the painting. You can see into the shadows to find suggested form.  I hope I've captured enough mystery and unpredictability now to engage the viewer.  But what to you think?

Keeping It Simple

Okay, I admit it: I've tried to reinvent the wheel on more than one occasion.  Particularly when it comes to organizing the upcoming deadlines for submitting applications to juried shows or art associations I might be interested in joining. 

Last year I missed several important opportunities, so at the beginning of this year I came up with an elaborate system using one of those multi-pocket file folders plus a monthly calendar where I dutifully filed the applications and entered each date.  And then I stowed the file folder and calendar where they would be convenient and...

It's the out of sight, out of mind thing.

So, I've developed a new system.

It's called a clipboard.

And those little post-it flags. 

And a red pen.  

And a small nail where I can hang it up right where I can see it.

Now when I find something interesting on the internet I print it off and file it on my high-tech clipboard.  I list the date when the application is due on the post-it note and then put the applications in order.  

I am optimistic that this system will work better for me than the old system.

Progress.

Yes, sometimes it is hard to tell whether you are moving forward or backward.

But at this age, any movement is a good sign. 

Perception and Imagination Opening Reception November 6th, High Desert Gallery - Bend, Oregon

  

I hope those of you in Central Oregon can drop by and join in the fun.  For more information please visit www.highdesertgallery.com. 

A Peek Into the Art Studio

I thought I would give you a peek into my art studio as I work on a new painting.

I've planned carefully, doing my preliminary sketch in a moleskine sketch book so I'll know exactly what I want to do.  As I start painting, I remind myself to place single brush strokes over a warm toned ground.  (That's my reference photo at the bottom.)

I want to keep my palette organized - warm on one side, cool on the other.  Of course, as I need more colors I realize I can't fit them in the right order, so I revert to Plan B, which is to put the paint wherever I can find an open spot. 

Still under control, though.  This single brush mark seems tricky, but after a lot of work I'm starting to get the hang of it.  Oh yeah, that's g-o-o-o-o-d, I'm really on a roll here, yes-sir-eee.  I think I GOT that brush mark thing, except ...humm...something about it all being the same value.  Okay, we can deal with that.  But what about it being all the same color?  I was doing so well, really in the flow, that sky is pretty darn fantastic...

Okay...fine.  I'll scrape it all off, then will you be happy?  How could it have all gone so wrong?  Now I have to start all over, put out more paint, no, gotta wait for that surface to dry a bit or it will all go to the same color again.  And you know how I hate waiting...

okay, done waiting, putting on more paint how...eeegaad, it's worse!  What is happening to me...I'm melting...oh, sorry, that's from the Wizard of Oz, but something has happened to all my skills, maybe the studio gremlins threw invisible melting water on me or something....

Well, dang!  That wasn't so bad.  You just have to know what you're doing, and that takes ...oh, years of practice...that brush mark thing?  I got a handle on it.  I gave up on the brushes, you know, they were inhibiting my creative flow and all that, just took out my painting knives and went at it.  I felt the German Expressionists right there at my elbow the whole time...cool how that whole gestalt thing where dead artists from the past can put their influence into the ether and I can just, like, tap right into it and...it's an "over 50" thing.  Young artists can't tap into it.  Oh yeah, they'll just have to wait...a really l-o-o-o-o-g time. 

Early Light

 Early Light
Oil on Linen, 18"x18"
@2009

This painting is just off the easel and it's still wet, but I wanted to write about it anyway.  I've talked about my inclination to paint alla prima, all in one shot.  But work schedules being what they are, I started this painting a while back and could only work on it a few minutes at a time, which forced me to concentrate on each part of the painting far more intently than I might normally do. 

I'm using one of the linen canvases I primed with rabbit skin glue and oil primer.  I like working on the oil-primed surface and I'm learning how to layer on thin paint so that the initial toned ground shows through.  With this painting, I had toned my ground using transparent oxide red, which I discovered that - even though very thin- is an extremely dominant hue.  I tried toning the "glow" down with raw umber, which helped, but the red color made it more difficult to get the sense of "coolness" in the greens.(The red is most obvious in the sky, but that actually helped in creating the sense of light - go figure.)

These are things I'm learning , understanding, and trying to master.  I've always felt like I had a reasonable sense when it comes to composition, although I generally paint scenes that contain a great deal of visual depth.  I recently viewed some excellent plein air paintings and noticed that - like the daily painters - many plein air painters focus on a single element, usually placed in the middle ground.  I don't know if this is the influence of photography for the past 100+ years or not - but it's an approach used to masterful ends by many artists today. And becoming aware of this difference in the way I approach my compositions and the way others I admire do has helped me to stretch out of my familiar "box."

Well, stretch a little bit, anyway.  This painting started with the hillside and the top tree being the focal point, but then I realized I was using my typical approach, drawing people into the depths of the painting by placing my focal area along the back edge between the middle and the background.  I made a conscious decision to pull my focal point forward into the front of the middle ground, and that - in turn - required me to make the back trees less of a dominant element.  By challenging myself this way I had to work through middle ground issues that perhaps I've been avoiding in earlier paintings. 

Another skill I've been working on is being aware and deliberate with my brush marks.  In the early stages I start loose and slowly build up my forms, but I would like to improve the visual end result of my brushstrokes.  My goals have been to come back to an area and repaint it with thicker, fluid color, striving for a "freshness" in the marks.  Sometimes areas look too dry and "dauby" - which I know is the result of not having enough paint on the brush.  Okay when first blocking in, but now I want to create a balance between lush, smooth "one stroke" areas with a more layered, detail areas.  This is another element that I would not have thought about a year ago.  It's exciting to get to a point where I realize I'm thinking more like an artist and seeing small results - which is the consequence of painting a lot of paintings - and why as artists we strive to paint every day, even if it's only for fifteen minutes before leaving for work.

This scene is inspired by one of the streams on the east side of Mt. Hood, on a foggy morning, very early.  We had decided to drive the "back way" to Portland, because it was more scenic, but the heavy fog obscured nearly everything.  I was trying to capture the dampness in the air and the indirect light bouncing around in the fog that was just starting to burn off.  The bank was actually strewn with white rocks and boulders of all sizes from the heavy winter/spring washouts, but as I worked I realized the foreground rock pattern would compete with the tree pattern. There needed to be quiet areas to contrast and emphasize those areas in this painting that were important.  My subject was the atmosphere, the light and coolness of the fog, so the trees became a more important communication element than the rocks.  I took a very large hogs hair brush and just swept broad strokes of paint across my rocks, wiping out several days worth of work in this area, and I think the painting is stronger for it.  Again, a few years ago this is something I would not have recognized as important - creating a balance between active and quiet forms.  At least I would not have been able to articulate it in these terms, only wonder "what was wrong with this picture." 

So why do I paint every day, even if I only get 15 minutes in the morning when the light is good?  Because practice gives you understanding, which gives you control...which gives you confidence and ultimately personal artistic success.
 
As for the photograph, light reflections off the wet paint make the water look more choppy than it actually is, plus some of the rock edges look a little weird as the camera picked up the blue more intensely than the other colors. I really have to stop being so casual about the way I photograph my art...

The "Perception and Inspiration" Show at High Desert Gallery

I thought I would share some images that I took just after I put up this show at High Desert Gallery.  They asked me to hang the work early, so there are a few empty spaces that I filled a week later with paintings that were not quite dry when the rest of the work went up. 

The space is wonderful, very high ceilings with the original tin ceiling tiles from 1914.  The light floods in the front windows and the gallery lighting is excellent.  There's enough room to step back to see paintings from a distance as well as up close.  This gallery likes to hang work "Salon Style", so I knew that I would have to plan for arrangements that would flow not only logically but color-wise and stylistically, too.  I was so relieved when the work was finally up and I could see it all together, instead of strung out in bits and pieces in my living room.  The paintings all seem to be living nicely together.

You can see all the images here. 

The gallery claimed to have "lots" of empty walls right now so I was invited to put up anything I wanted.  I added some of the still life paintings I've been doing - here are a few, sorry that the smaller ones are partially cut off but you get the idea.  You might think that it would help because I work at this gallery part time, but no.  The pressure was actually worse because they have finally offered me exclusive representation and I didn't want to either embarrass myself or let their expectations down.

So far the public has been very supportive in their comments and appreciation.  I've found it's easier to pretend that the artist is someone else when I talk about the work.  I don't admit it unless I'm asked because I don't want to make them uncomfortable in case they like one of the other artist's work more than mine.  Anyway, enjoy this virtual exhibit. 

Things a Gallery May Never Tell You

There are things a gallery may never tell you, but you need to know.  They can make a difference to your success.

Framing your own work isn't always a super idea.  

Some galleries take on the responsibility of framing, but many galleries ask the artist to provide the art framed.  If they haven't given you specific guidelines as to what they want, you are on your own. 

Many 2-D artists struggle with framing costs and turn to on-line sources for special order frames.  But unless you have a background in framing, including the craftsmanship to do a professional job, you might be wasting not only your time but your money -- because poorly framed art generally does not sell.

If you opt for the do-it-yourself route, beware these common pitfalls:

Your frame does not complement the artwork, the width is too narrow or too wide, or it's too "difficult" to hang comfortably in a group setting.  Overly ornate frames can be awkward to place on a wall that must accommodate a grouping of different artwork in different frames.  Not only must the artwork "flow" but the framing must also "flow" for the eye to move comfortably. And for clients to visualize it "living comfortably" in their home. 

If you're re-using a frame, give it a close inspection before asking someone to sell it for you.  Be sure it's in the condition you would demand if you were being asked to pay the retail price.

Don't forget the back - it's just as important as the front.  Make sure your backing paper is evenly trimmed, not dried out or torn, and firmly attached.  Your wires should be tightly and neatly twisted, with the sharp ends either crimped under or wrapped in tape.  Don't forget the wall bumpers.  Before the sale is finalized, many clients will hold the artwork, turn it over and look at the back.  Don't blow the sale with a sloppy finish.

Your drawing flaws make the piece a white elephant.

A lot of sales have been lost due to drawing flaws.  If your work is intended to be representational, the public has little tolerance for anything that seems "off."  In fact, if they spot something that doesn't make visual sense it immediately becomes the subject of conversation and you can't move them off it.

Often these drawing flaws are overlooked by the artist who "already knows what it is."  Sometimes they are intentional.  But if a prospective client sees a painting that just looks wrong, there's no amount of brush work or great color that can get them past their belief that the river "flows uphill."

Your style looks too easy.

People buy art that impresses them, inspires them, or affects them emotionally in some way.  And many women - who are the primary purchasers of art - are creative people themselves.  If it looks like something they think they could do on their own, they won't buy it.

However, people are always impressed by superlative technique, whether the work is realistic or abstract.  Set the bar high and don't settle for "easy."

The secret reason why your bio is important. 

The purpose of your bio is to concisely demonstrate the professional level of your work and the consistency of your output using one paragraph and a listing by date of your accomplishments.

Write clearly, not extravagantly. Describe your style and influences in a single sentence.   State how long you have been working professionally, and explain your background and training. Explain what distinguishes your art from that of others, and augment this with a brief description of your artistic philosophy. By adding a quote and/or mentioning where you live, your family, or when you were born, you add a personal impression to the facts. 

Your consistency is demonstrated by the number and professional level of the juried and solo shows you've participated in, by your membership in professional organizations, and any awards and honors you've received, collections (sales) and gallery associations.  This information is usually listed by date, most recent first, in a standard format.  One or two pages is usually enough, although if you feel the need, you can add the words "additional information upon request."

If you don't have a long list of accomplishments, include what you do have in the listing.  Keep in mind the real purpose and work toward fleshing out the missing pieces as quickly as you can.  In the mean time, have a really strong, extremely large body of work to show. You want to communicate that if your work starts selling, you'll be able to consistently provide new work at the same technical level.

Extras that mark you as a professional.

Label the back of your artwork with the title and your name.  Many artists include a document with an image of the artwork, the date of creation, materials and other technical information (such as how to clean it), perhaps a small artist statement regarding the work.  You can use a clear plastic page protector, attached to the backing paper with double sided tape, then slip the document inside.

Prepare an artist statement that fits the work and include it on a separate piece of quality resume paper.  Include a quote from yourself, usually one or two sentences in quotation marks within the body of the statement.  Think about what you would like the gallery to say about you in any press release or publicity piece they might put out. If the gallery uses a blog to promote new work, get an idea of what they traditionally post. 

Include a CD with your images - last name and title -- at high resolution 300 pixels per inch (ppi).  The gallery can resize down for web applications or easily send an image to newspapers or magazines for print.  Try to anticipate what a gallery might need.  Don't expect them to contact you or hunt down the information on their own because they won't have the time and will move on to an artist who did provide the material. 

Why you might be accepted by a gallery in spite of "all the above."

There is no one-generalization-fits-all for art galleries. Some galleries are more flexible than others on what they accept.  Just as there are all levels of galleries, there are different reasons why an artist might have his work accepted.  It could be that the gallery director sees something worth exploring.  Or perhaps they don't really know what will sell now so they're putting everything up.  But regardless, you, the artist, should be doing everything you can to make sure that no matter what the reason why, once you're there you put yourself in the strongest position possible. 

Painting with Sharp Knives

Red Mesa
30"x24" oil on panel
@2009

The development of the Mesa Series came about from an earlier series called Ancient Walls.  I have a continuing fascination with textures and layers, adding and removing paint passages, and pretty much torturing my surfaces.  Where the Ancient Walls were non-representational abstract, the Mesa Series has taken on landscape and sky forms and is fairly recognizable as to a sense of place. 

As in the process of Monolith, described here, I started with gesso.  Red Mesa began life as a totally different painting, thick with galkyd pours.  But galkyd can be a tricky medium.  Too thin, and the color fades away, too thick and colors turn muddy.  When that happens, there's nothing else to do but scrape it off.

Normally, scraping is not an issue.  I have some very sharp canvas scrapers.  But with a surface this large it can take more than an hour to scrape back the paint.  And therein lies the problem.

Did I mention that I have very sharp scraping knives?

Yes, well, when I first learned about scraping knives from a fellow art blogger and fabulous artist, Margret Short, she warned me to be careful.  They are...sharp!  Great for removing dried paint. 

Also great for slowly shaving the layers of skin from your fingers without noticing until the blood starts gushing.  Literally. When the green paint I was scraping off started to turn red I realized I had ignored Margret's advice to be careful.  Several bandages later I finished the job and had a great ground for Red Mesa. The red color is transparent oxide red - no blood added.

Red Mesa is part of the "Perception and Imagination" show currently on exhibition and sale at High Desert Gallery & Custom Framing of Central Oregon, at the Redmond Gallery.  The show will be up until October 30, 2009.  866-549-6250.