each piece: tempera on canvas, 12" x 12"
P.S. Julia Davies' asemic writing work has been, and I cannot state this emphatically enough, a HUGE influence on my recent painterly tangents. Without the introduction to the idea through her 100 Days work, I likely would have kept bumbling about in oblivion. I've played with this sort of thing for years--a "post-literate" language where language is left up to the reader or viewer. I had no idea this was something that already existed. I have every confidence that I will continue to move around inside it and push at it from every angle, long after 100 Days has wrapped.
not at all what i would consider a finished piece. or even one that feels good. it actually felt very disjointed, jerky almost in the moment. i know that shows. maybe tomorrow i can make it show something else.
tempera & watercolor on canvas, 12" x 12"
no external inspiration tonight, sorry. lots going on. marathonning fatigue. i did find out yesterday that my proposal for a night-time, light-incorporating project was approved and so you may see glimpses of that as we tumble towards the finish line.
not at all what i planned to post for day 87, and it probably won't be the only thing up by the end of the day. my car gave me some trouble today and so i gave it a time-out at the shop. my dad is letting me borrow his 1970 VW bus overnight so that i can get to my new job bright and early in the morning. i love taking shots of mirror reflections, especially when the mirror is so vintagey cool! there was no reason for these shots except the sunset looked gorgeous, i like bokeh-ed out diptychs and i was there with camera in hand.
I've been thinking about this post of Julia's for awhile now. I honestly thought that I would address it in paint, but I found myself at this interesting pair of buildings today. I'd previously shot it (maybe 8 months ago?) but it felt much different today. I may still get to a bounce off paint. Maybe.
untitled (detailed glimpse on bottom)
ink, watercolor & tempera on canvas panel, 16" x 20"
i like the effect of the white tempera as the most on-top layer...it seemed to blur but also magnify the colors and patterns beneath. what i did not expect was how much, before i "fixed" it, the white tempera would look like giant sperm swimming across the rest of my painting. talk about comic relief in my living room this afternoon, whew!
today's entry is really more about process than product. i like it, or parts of it, but this week's been a bit of an emotional roller coaster which finally allowed me to bail out the back today. i finished up my teaching gig after 3 years and 1 month this morning...and i start a new job on Monday. i'm excited, but was unexpectedly a tad sad when i said my goodbyes. so i spent all afternoon painting. it was heaven. and messy. and sweaty. full of process, process, process...and very little brain-overload-chatter, just the way i like it!
we seek comfort when we ache.
we lash out, we hide, we sleep.
we don't sleep, but instead daydream at night
about the one that got away,
or the one that came back, damaged and smaller than
we hurt each other in ways we cannot imagine ever doing.
we hold hands.
we ask forgiveness, and we dole it out unconditionally.
we cry, we weep. for days on end.
we love, and want to love, and want to be loved.
we wonder why, why not, how is it possible, when.
we dress our wounds as best we can.
we whisper and make up new languages and nod knowingly.
we share secrets.
we trade secrets.
we keep secrets.
we live, not always holy and not always wholly.
we demand our days in court. we flirt and marry, drift
apart and back again. we want to be happy and rich,
but mostly happy. and rich.
we blink, we surprise each other. with words
or tiny actions.
we suffer, we weep. we ask forgiveness.
and we dole it out unconditionally.
Several points of inspiration / pinging off fellow 100 Days artists:
JK Davies' day 80 she pinged off an Antony Gormley piece and a Dorothee Lee piece,
which was inspired by JK's day 76 piece; and,
Mitra Fabian (especially the zippers); and
Andy G., whose work is never far from my mind.
I collapsed with exhaustion--space, time, solitude, silence, inertia, they take their toll. Around
Halloween, actually all year round, the windless fog settles and darkens,
speaks the only word it knows.
Robert held his umbrella over her, underneath the silt and salty mouth
of the Severn. Seconds later as he fell asleep, she gathered her thoughts from her ankles and pulled them back on with her clothes.
You could say that there was a wistfulness in her voice, you could say that was how the dead would dream. You could say anything. But of course, you never had to.
No gall bladder is present in the pigeon.
The beaver paid us no attention as he pondered the creamy white underside, his apathy made me feel invisible, and afraid.
Squirrels paced on windowsills and gnawed on crushed glass in every color, solar systems strewn this way and that. He was relieved when Sister finally walked toward him, into the light.
Don't mention the book.
Father was always stern when it came to the looters.
"Remember kids," he would say, "seared into vein and vine,"
and then drift off mid-mumble, like nasturtiums on Tuesdays
or roses at dawn.
Ring the churchbells, let the alFabets begin. Forget A through E, today's postmodern alFabet starts with F is for:
Feelings. Nothing more than Feelings; Fringe-Free surreys; Flea-Flickers, and Fake jewels, and seagulls a-Flock; Fellatio; Facebook & eFFervescing about nothing to everyone; Former Flings Found Frolicking bed- or topside; Felonious Frisbee; isometric Flippancies; FistFuls of Feathered Flies; Fracking (Frantic Fucking, not Fractured hydrology); Flamingos; pFizer pFarmaceuticals; flying monkeys and saucers; Filled to the rim with brim; Fingered to Fruition.
I collect paint chips. I de-story books. I blow bubbles. I write poetry (mostly) and take pictures. I love vintage Pyrex and Hermosa Beach and mapping southern California. My alter-ego/better half is a fictional character I created named Stella. I write about Stella and her adventures and right now her adventures are set in the Salton Sea, another place I love. I make jellyfish.
I've been an art teacher, police dispatcher, floral designer, case manager, project manager, three-time AmeriCorps member and hopefully soon just a regular old administrator.
Wanna know a secret? I think I might have a little crush on you, but don't hold it against me.
A couple years ago, I tiptoed down a similar road...and blogged it on the long-quiet Have You Seen My Dog blog. I described it as "a project centered on the concepts of collaboration & community, creativity & context." The concept behind 100 Days seems to fit nicely into this theme. I'm not sure what to expect, nor if I will fit in with this crowd, but I can't wait to find out...