M. Pia De Girolamo

Door and Boat (working title) by M. Pia De Girolamo © 2012.

36" x 36" Acrylic and found objects on canvas. 

I’ve been making a lot of monoprints lately, having set up a space in my basement and also working at Main Line Art Center on the big etching or roller press.  However I am also committed to getting into the studio to paint. My goal is to make a group of prints and paintings that “talk to each other” as it were.  What they’ll be talking about concerns meshing texture, graphics, color, form and space.  Much to my delight, "Door and Boat" emerged yesterday on canvas! In case you were wondering, "door" is piece of canvas and "boat" an incised cardboard packing material.

I’ll keep you posted on new work in this evolving group of paintings and prints….

Labyrinth at St. Thomas Church, Whitemarsh, PA

For reasons now forgotten, a few weeks ago I was looking up labyrinths on the internet and found to my surprise there was a large one installed practically “in my own backyard”, on the grounds of St. Thomas’ Church in Whitemarsh, PA.  It is a replica of a labyrinth that is inlaid in the floor of Chartres Cathedral in France. It is speculated that the medieval labyrinth may have provided a path for prayerful walking but from what I gather, this is not conclusive. Today, however, walking a labyrinth is put forth as a meditative exercise. You follow the same path into the center as it twists and turns and follow the same path out. There are no dead ends or branches. The process is said to quiet the mind.

Today, feeling cooped up, a little irritable, and in need of a walk despite the gloomy, drizzly day, I took myself over to St. Thomas’ and located the labyrinth on the grounds.  Walking at a regular pace, I made my way in.  I found I was just the slightest bit off balance when it came to the switch-back turns, which made me focus on the walk. I think that because of that focus my head was cleared of the cobwebs I had brought in with me. I became aware of the reflections of surrounding trees in the puddles on the ground, the abstract patterns made by horse chestnuts and oak leaves strewn across the path, and the sounds of birds and distant traffic. 

I got home and began to get to work in the studio. I made a small collage but I spent most of the time preparing for new projects by writing an art supply shopping list, collecting materials I already had, and building stretcher frames.  Do I think the labyrinth walk helped me focus on getting that preparatory phase going?  Very possibly. Was it enjoyable and calming and did it provide a little exercise, balance training, and fresh air? Definitely. Will I do it again? Yes, I will.

The Backyard Monotype by M. Pia De Girolamo ©2012

If you’ve seen my posts on my Facebook artist page you’ll know I’ve recently been working on monotypes. A few years ago I learned printmaking techniques from instructor Christine Stoughton at the Main Line Art Center, Haverford, PA.  Being a painter, I gravitated toward the monotype or monoprint as it is also sometimes called, because it combined what is essentially painting with printmaking technique and aesthetic.

Several years ago before I learned the technique, I bought a large monotype and in talking to the gallery owner about how it was made I had trouble visualizing the process.  It was a print but it was marked "1/1" meaning there was only one and it was not part of an edition (a limited run of multiple prints made using a wood- or linocut block or etching plate.) But if that was the case, how was it a print and not a painting? The image had not been incised but rather painted on a plexiglass plate, applied to paper and run through a hand-cranked roller press. 

If I once had trouble picturing the process, you might too so I thought I’d walk you through and show some photographs of the basic steps.  Because I am working in my home studio and do not own a manual printing press I am using a burnishing tool (the back of a flat wooden spoon).   If you have an Art Center nearby you can often pay a small fee for open studio time using their full-size press.  

Mixing the inks

Using Akua (non-toxic, soy-based) inks from Rostow and Jung, I use a palette knife, paintbrush and/or roller to apply the ink to a plexiglass plate (buy at art supply store or ask Home Depot to cut to size). I have found that mixing a little release agent into the paint helps the inks transfer more easily when home printing. I also use blending agent when brushing on paint to blend strokes.

Applying the ink

Inked plate with scraped off negative spaces

I may scrape off ink in areas to allow the white of the paper to show through and be part of the composition.  Using other scraping “tools” like sponges, brushes, pieces of netting, etc. will create textured effects.

A key point to remember is that what you paint on the plate will be reversed when you print! Even when working in a very abstract and spontaneous way there may be a consistent pattern in which you apply your paint that is satisfying to you. If you don’t take this into account, you will be surprised, pleasantly or unpleasantly as the case may be, by the resulting composition of your piece. The print-making process can thus reveal an aspect of your practice previously unknown to you.

Plate inkside down on paper

 Flipped inked plate and paper

After painting and scraping, I very carefully place the plate ink side down on special printing paper (I got a good deal from Utrecht; BFK Rives and Arches make excellent papers), press down, then carefully flip over the plate and paper together.

With strong downward pressure, I begin to burnish the back of the paper with the flat of the spoon and sometimes use a pin press (like a very heavy rolling pin) to get maximal transference of ink to paper. I lift up the corners to peek and rub some more until satisfied with the result.  I can repeat the process by re-inking the same other plates and layering on color if I choose, or stop there.  If there is enough ink on the plate I might be able to eke out one more print called a “ghost”, due to its delicate, ephemeral look. 

Plate with re-inked areas at the bottom

Unforeseen results occur as the ink gets “squished” onto the paper. It takes time and practice to be able to control the transfer of ink. The print can turn out too light if there’s not enough ink, or “blobby” in areas of too much ink. Here I have added more ink to the plate and then I re-printed. I did this several times with this print. The finished monotype is at the start of the blog post. It helps to start with easy compositions and smaller papers before attempting more complex subjects and larger sizes.

A great printmaking resource: Rostow and Jungs website http://www.waterbasedinks.com/

One of my Christmas presents this year was a Japanese fountain pen. You can see it in the photo above. There are two cranes on it. The word for crane in Japanese is “tsuru”-don’t ask me how I remember this. I learned the word sometime in childhood and it got stuck in the folds of my brain somewhere. I think it’s because it’s fun to say. There is also the iconic Mt. Fuji, and at the bottom of the pen, a glistening blue stream, hinting perhaps at the flow of writing that is to issue forth from the golden nib.

It is a “fine writing instrument”, a Lexus of pens so to speak. I took it out for a test drive on some really nice thick paper in one of those leather-bound notebooks and indeed it worked beautifully. Well-balanced, it is a nice size for my hand. The ink flows easily; the line is a little thicker than I would have chosen for myself but it is “juicy” and that’s fun too.

Just before the holidays I was browsing in a used bookstore and found a copy of Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, which is a creativity jump-starter and aid for blocked artists.  I had skimmed it a couple of years ago and found it interesting but never felt the need to do any of the exercises.  Not that I was blocked creatively now, but just before and after Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s getting into the studio can get a little tricky so I figured I’d pick and choose and try some of the exercises. Since I like writing and find it also helps me clarify direction in the studio, I decided to start Cameron’s recommended  “morning pages”. Every morning you pour forth three pages about anything and everything, being as honest as possible with all your hopes, fears, plans, ideas etc.

The morning pages function as a sort of meditation or even prayer, if you will.  You are supposed to write these pages out in long hand as opposed to on the computer. My guess is it's because it mimics that act of mark-making in painting, and therefore is probably connected to firing up the area of the brain that executes that task.

Initially, I put the “The Japanese Pen” aside as it was the kind of pen one reserves for greeting cards or lovely leather-bound notebooks and not for writing on the cheapo paper I was calligraphically regurgitating onto every morning. Moreover, the notebook I was using was one of my sons’ old school notebooks from last year that still had lots of paper in it. Cameron says to go out and treat yourself to a beautiful notebook for this purpose but I figured it was better to use what was at hand rather than procrastinate ‘til I went out to hunt for a special one.

Then I realized that not using the pen was like that tendency not to use “the good dishes”, reserving them for the company that comes every blue moon. We used our “good dishes” every day so why shouldn’t I use “the good pen”?!  So I did and am now happily “wasting ink” every morning. I notice my hand and arm aren’t getting writer's cramp and the ideas are flowing. I may not have followed Julia’s advice to get a special notebook but at least I am using a special pen!!

Study for a Commission, Brushes program on iPad

It’s January 6, so happy Epiphany to you!  In Italy, on the eve of the Epiphany, La Befana, a magical old lady, brings gifts to the children in commemoration of the gifts of the Magi to the Christ child in the stable.

I love the word, “epiphany” as in “I’ve had an epiphany!” used to describe an “aha!” moment.  From the Greek word meaning “to reveal”, an epiphany is, in the words of Wikipedia, “the result of significant labor on the part of the discoverer …so surprising because one cannot predict when one’s labor will bear fruit”.  When epiphanies are discussed, the “significant labor” part is often forgotten! 

It’s interesting to contrast the underlying meaning of the Epiphany with the New Year’s holiday. At New Year’s we are encouraged to “make resolutions” as if we could will these goals into being by our own conscious ferocious effort alone. Epiphany instead seems to imply an act of receptivity but not in a passive way; the hard work has got to come first and you have to have faith that the “aha” moment will arrive when it’s good and ready and not necessarily when you want it to. 

It is like this in the studio.  How many times does a painting “problem” arise and only to be resolved when you “play” with it and see what happens as opposed to imposing a solution. Sometimes it’s months or years later that the solution arrives.

In wishing you Happy New Year I also wish you many great epiphanies for 2012!

Where are You? by M. Pia De Girolamo, Oil stick on paper, 2008©

Recently I had a bit of a tussle with procrastination around some heavy duty “administrative stuff”. In this case, it fell primarily to me to put a childhood family second home on the market, while living far away. I dreaded the work that had to be done: finding and interviewing realtors, paperwork etc.  It was anxiety-provoking on many levels and I kept putting it off. The longer I put it off of course, the more it ate at me. I found I was starting to avoid other things because of it, even getting into the studio to paint. If you look at the image above, that about sums up visually how I felt!

Since I just couldn’t seem to make myself just do the thing, I started to think of strategies or tricks to get myself motivated. I came up with a few that eventually helped. So the house is now on the market (who knows if it will sell—but that’s another story!!)

These strategies worked for me:

Take on the task first thing in the morning.  Set the intention up mentally the  night before. I happen to be a morning person; my energy is highest then.

Set up a reward for when you're finished. For me, it was to read a book for fun in the middle of the day. Because I usually save my reading for when all is done and I’m about to go to bed, this to me was extravagant.  This may sound like a pretty lame reward to you but you’re free to pick whatever you want!

If there are multiple unpleasant things to do (and there always are) prioritize and recognize that you may not be able to accomplish them all at once, or may not want to. For me, since there is only one “first thing in the morning”, I schedule the unpleasant tasks sequentially over a number of mornings.  Again, set the intention at night or write it down.

Recognize that the worst unpleasant task may be the one that's holding you back from tackling the rest.  Go for that one and the dam may break, allowing you to tackle the others more easily. 

Ask for help, if the task is amenable to it.  In the case of putting the house on the market, my sisters (even though they too live far away) were instrumental in getting some of the key tasks done.

If you have any strategies that work for you please share!

Merritt Parkway by Willem De Kooning, 1959

Sometimes as I am talking to someone about an experience, I have a sudden revelation about it.  It doesn't come before or after but just as the words are coming out of my mouth.  It is as if the act of dialogue crystallizes thoughts that have been trying to form.

This  happened recently.  I was telling an artist friend about my recent visit to the De Kooning exhibit at the MoMA. I told her how extensive it was, taking up the whole 6th floor of the museum and incorporating all the different iterations of his life's work.  As I was saying this I realized that my walk through the exhibit was like a walk "through" De Kooning in a way.  I just got the sense that he had revealed so much of himself in these paintings and that I was getting to know him personally. I remembered that while walking through the exhibit I had the feeling he was present, right around the corner somewhere.  As I write this I recall that in the book "Art without Borders", Ben-Ami Scharfstein says that a work of art is "...the ghost of the person yearning to be known by means of the material it inhabits" and "...we would ask of the work of art, not 'what is that?' but 'who is that?' ".

The paintings change as De Kooning's circumstances and surroundings changed.  Earlier, more detailed  paintings reflect the freneticism and maybe anxiety of city life; later paintings with larger swaths of color and juicy paint come out of his time on Long Island in proximity to sea and sky.  I could identify with this characteristic of the painter to process and interpret his surroundings in his paintings.  I think they resonate so powerfully for me because though abstract, they are still grounded in his experience of the world.

His final work is very minimalist and has been seen as a decline in his abilities matching the deterioration of his cognitive abilities due to Alzheimer's disease.  Rather, the MoMA exhibit shows that these works are important in their own right. I did not appreciate them as much, when I saw only printed images, but seeing these very large airy works ‘in person’ is another matter. Beautifully balancing lines and space, they simply breathe. It is moving to stand in those large rooms among these simple lyrical paintings and see a testament to creativity infusing life until the very end.

Check out MoMA's exhibition website at http://www.moma.org/interactives/exhibitions/2011/dekooning/  and/or go see the exhibition at MoMA up through January 9.

Apollo's Chariot by Mish-el Benjamin©, Oil, pencil and wax on paper.

Inner Sanctum by Mish-el Benjamin©, Acrylic on Canvas

Recently, I attended Mish-el Benjamin’s artist reception for her show The Daily Ritual at the Pagus Gallery Project Space in Norristown, PA. The title refers to her daily studio practice but in her paintings I see references to the ritual imagery of various faiths, past and present.  In one affecting work, Coming off the Cross, a human figure is being taken down a ladder, echoing the theme of Christ’s deposition from the cross in Christian art while possibly pointing to a more personal or universal meaning. Another, Apollo’s Chariot, contains an arc extending over two inverted triangles, calling to mind the path of the Greek sun god’s chariot.  In Inner Sanctum, there is a door suggested in the midst of a white form, the entrance perhaps to a private place of artistic or spiritual recollection. 

The imagery of art historical spiritual tradition and personal spiritual symbolism are melded in Mish-el’s paintings, which are executed with brushy strokes in areas of opaque and transparent layers in which the artist’s hand is clearly evident. For me, the show is a meditation on our longing for the unknowable. 

In the first floor gallery, two artists, Nakima Ollin and Emily Erb share the space in a show entitled Earthly Delights. Nakima uses egg tempera on panel to delicately render images of the complicated structure of industrial sites.  There is something in them that recalls the atmospheric quality of Dutch landscape painting but the finely realized complex tangle of tubes and beams approaches abstraction.  Emily works with dye on silk.  Her wall hangings entitled The Garden of Earthly Delights are rich with vivid imagery that deliberately recalls the painting by 15^th century master Hieronymus Bosch. One group of framed silk panels is based on historic maps of the world; another group appears to draw from photographic images.

If you go: The Daily Ritual is up until Dec. 31; Earthly Delights continues through Dec. 2.  Pagus Gallery http://www.pagusgallery.org/ is located at 619 W Washington St. Norristown PA (484) 992-2392.  Hours Thurs-Sat 12-5.

Me at the workshop.

At least once a year, usually in the fall, I schedule a five day workshop with artist Tim Hawkesworth assisted by artist Lala Zeitlyn at the Norristown Arts Bldg.in Norristown, PA. The NAB was a beautiful old textile factory converted into studios, two gallery spaces (first floor Pagus Gallery and the lower level Project Space) and a workshop on the second floor.

My first workshop five years ago with Tim turned out to be totally different than I had expected. It was not another class in technique or color theory but a training course in accessing a deeper source of intuitive knowledge about making a painting, from marks and paint to subject matter. Though Tim acknowledges the place of academic training and will help you with technical matters if you wish, he would “rather teach a practice of in-built finding”. He firmly believes in being attuned to “the body’s response”. “Pay attention to the energy shifts, to the glimpses, be open to those nuggets of seeing”, he says.  Noting your body’s response to your mark-making is the best way to gauge whether your painting is good technically as well as being true to your deeper experience.  If the mark-making produces a sense of “uplift” then it’s right; if it produces no excitement or boredom or repetition then it’s not.

The practice calls for focus, receptivity and Self-awareness. Lala calls this “being honest”. As a result, these workshops can be very intense, equal parts euphoria and aching muscles.  I use these workshops strategically to help maintain my own studio practice, scheduling one after a series of shows when energy is drained or around a holiday period when I know it will be difficult to get into the studio. 

Each day of the workshop starts with a lecture on how to access the source of your art and “create not just another picture but a meeting”. Tim makes his points with well-chosen readings including powerful poetry, artists’ writings, and the teachings of Eastern and Western contemplatives, all lightened by a self-deprecating sense of humor. There is discussion afterwards, often led by Lala who comments and emphasizes particular points.

As you work, Tim places art books on your table with paintings by artists that resonate with what you are doing. “The best teaching is looking at the paintings you love and reading what artists wrote,” Tim says. “Look at the paintings and see how the artists made the brushstrokes, how their hand moved"! You learn from those who came before, adding your own voice to the art historical continuum. 

Towards the end of the week you can move your body of work to his large studio or one of the galleries and you look at it together and learn from it. Tim tailors his teaching to where you are in your artistic journey; you see people with a variety of experience at the workshop, from those without any art training to artists with gallery representation. 

It amazes me that after all the years that I have been attending the workshop, Tim is still so enthusiastic and his lectures still so fresh. I asked Tim and Lala what they derive from running the workshops. According to Tim, in the workshops “you just don’t know what’s going to happen; it’s mind-blowing what happens…fresh, exciting stuff”. Furthermore he says, “It helps me with my own centering seeing others get centered”.  Lala puts it this way, “we are lifted as others are lifted”.

Interested in taking a class? See http://drawingworkshops.com/

The Norristown Arts Bldg. workshop space.

The workshop has a central platform which accommodates 2 models. It is surrounded by mini-studios which afford each person extensive wall space, some privacy, and a good view of the models.  The space is also bedecked with natural and man-made objects for study and drawing. The workshop is also served by an extensive art library for pictorial reference.

Flowing brustrokes 

 2008

My parents loved art and in our house we had original art on the walls. There was nothing by anyone famous (no undiscovered Vermeers), just work they fell in love with in their travels or by artists they had met. 

Among my favorite pieces was a pair of vertical paintings on paper in a loose brushy style they bought from a Japanese artist in Rome.  The figures appeared to be engaged in a secret courtship, but I couldn’t be sure.  Another favorite was an oil painting by an artist we met while on vacation in Formia, at the seaside south of Rome.  The artist, whose first or last name (I don’t remember) was Attilio, was there vacationing with his family. My sisters and I became friendly with his daughters during our stay.

Signor’ Attilio painted our painting while we were on vacation. It showed the beach where we stayed and a little green and white rowboat pulled up on the sand that belonged to a boy who lived there. One day my father asked the boy to row us around the bay in that boat. The boy had dark hair and dark eyes; I had a crush on him and so of course, we never spoke. When I see that painting now, I also see the artist and his lively family, the mysterious boy, and my childhood.  What became of all of them?

When I picture my childhood home I can see where each painting hung and remember some of the questions they evoked.  Who painted them? What did they depict and were the scenes “real” or taken from the artist’s imagination?  There was always an element of mystery there and it occurs to me that mystery is the feeling I have when I paint my work. A painting is not an answer so much as the embodiment of questions.

This weekend I exhibited work in the Philadelphia Open Studio Tours event and a friend, her husband and teenaged children were among my visitors. Whether or not the kids came willingly I don’t know but I think it was great that their parents brought them and exposed them to where art is made and shown.  I thought back to my own early exposures to original art.

The absolute very first memory dates back to first grade at PS 101 in Forest Hills, NY. Our first grade was broken up into three classes. Each class specialized in a different area and sometimes their activities crossed over. My class wrote, illustrated and put together a book of short essays about ourselves. The second class learned to play the recorder. The third class learned about art. Their teacher, a Mrs. Wexler, was passionate about modern art. I remember our class filing into hers to hear her speak about the subject and show us paintings by the modernists.  Paul Klee and Picasso stand out as two of the artists whose work she showed us. I remember this as being a great treat.

Mrs. Wexler took all of us on a field trip to the Museum of Modern Art in Manhattan. Though I don’t remember specific paintings I do remember thinking it was a very interesting place and that I very much enjoyed being there. I also have a picture in my mind of the MOMA Sculpture Garden, stark and beautiful in the late fall.

The second art-related trip that made a deep impression was when I was taken to the Metropolitan Museum by my parents to see an exhibit of Florentine frescos that had been damaged after the big flood of 1966.  The frescos had been carefully detached from their walls, restored and sent on tour before their replacement. The show was called “The Great Age of Fresco: From Giotto to Pontormo” and my parents bought the exhibition catalogue. My parents took us to the show because they wanted us to see the great art but also because it highlighted our Italian culture.

It is so important that parents gift their children with exposure to the visual arts for many reasons-as a stimulus to their own creativity and also as a way of learning about their own and other cultures. It also teaches them to think critically about their society as they look at the art that comes from it, responds to it and in turn helps create it.  It will help produce the next generation of artists and art-lovers.  What do you think...I'd love to hear your opinion!

(PS I have the "Moderate Comments" filter on due to past spam, so don't worry if you leave a comment and don't see it post immediately!)

Kohala Beach   Acrylic on Canvas   11 x 14

Evaluating my art-making and art-showing experiences over the past few years prompted me to write down a few highlights. Truthfully, there is nothing earth-shattering here or anything that can’t be found in other places on the internet but these are things that have worked for me.

It goes without saying perhaps, but the first “rule” is to make the best art you can make in your own unique way and this is achieved of course by study and practice. Look at other artists’ work and learn from it.  Be diligent with the sketchbook. Be an explorer-of media, of a subject, of a color.  Don’t give up on a piece that’s giving you a great deal of trouble; give it a “time out”, work on something else and come back to it later (sometimes years later!).  On the other hand don’t undervalue the little piece that comes serendipitously. Be thankful that it has come to you like a gift. Don’t be afraid to “ruin” a painting when the voice inside dares you “what would happen if …”.   This was very hard for me to do. And still is to some degree but I’m much better at it.

For creative ruts or trouble getting into the studio, switching media can be very helpful. Do collage, sumi-e, use magic marker, crayon etc.  Take a walk, take lots of walks, bring a camera, photograph small things, weird things, beautiful things, ugly things. Go through your photos and create albums organized by color, shape, or subject.  When you go back to your main medium you will often find that you consciously or unconsciously picked up something new that finds its way into your work.

Choose a mentor or two-someone you trust to evaluate your work honestly but sensitively.  Often this is an artist-teacher but can be a more experienced artist as well.  A  “non-artist” family member or good friend can also be invaluable. They are your audience.

When you reach that point where you feel you have a reasonable body of work that largely relates and that you are proud of, it’s time to show it.  You can’t wait for some imagined unchanging apex of perfection before you do this because your work will continue to evolve over time; at least I think it should evolve, just as you continue to learn and grow as a human being over your lifetime.

Don’t try to force yourself into painting in a way that doesn’t feel like it’s coming from you.  I’m not saying that you shouldn’t try to paint like your favorite artist-that can be a valuable way of learning-but ultimately your voice  (and you will hear it) will clamor to come out. Isn’t the whole point of making art to interpret life from your personal stance? Your art may not be “trendy” but it will be true.

Network, network, network.  Fortunately, I find this fun overall. First of all make connections with other artists. Produce a group show with like-minded peers. There are empty storefronts, co-op galleries with open slots, libraries, etc. where you can organize such a show.  Take advantage of opportunities made available by arts organizations and municipalities such as open studio tours; this Oct. 1 and 2, my friend Mo Gerngross and I will be sharing an assigned studio space (because our studios are located outside Philadelphia) for POST (Philadelphia Open Studio Tours). Find out from other artists where they have shown and share information about your past exhibition venues.

Introduce yourself to the businesses in your area. Interior designers and home furnishing stores are often very interested in working with artists.  Galleries that offer framing and interior design  can be very invested in promoting artists’ work, bringing the pieces into a client’s home to see if it fits and then hanging it for them.

Don’t get discouraged if you are turned down by a gallery or juried show, or rather, let yourself be miserable for maybe 24 hours, and then kick yourself in the butt and go at it again!  

Feel free to comment and add your own “voice of experience”.

(Due to recent spam, I now have to moderate comments so they won't show up right away...)

Reef     22 x 30      Acrylic on Arches Watercolor Paper

Recently when starting a new painting I have been applying a colored ground,  usually in a modified red or yellow shade, to the fresh canvas.  In the new series of paintings I’ve been working on,  I started with raw canvas but rather than using white gesso to prime it I applied a ground of clear gesso tinted with Naples Yellow.

The ground can function to warm up or cool down a painting as it alters the colors placed above it. For me the ground can also set the emotional tone for a piece.  Historically, use of a ground and underpainting was the rule rather than the exception and a variety of colors such as grey, beige, yellow ochre and vermilion was employed during different periods and by different artists.

Sometimes I include a lot of the ground color in the final painting, keeping the color going through subsequent transparent layers (as in the photo above). Other times I paint on top of the ground in more opaque layers and sometimes gouge, scrape or sand a layer to let the ground show through.

I just came back from Hawaii with strong images of sand, sea, sky. It seemed appropriate to prep my canvases with the Naples Yellow, an ochre-type yellow, recalling the warmth and light of the tropics, their mystery and perhaps a touch of sadness as well.  The yellow would mix with blues to make a tropical blue-green, soften violet hues and mellow out reds. 

Laying a ground color in is another way to get the painting process started. You commit to a color and then watch what happens “from the ground up”!

Pacific Voyage       Acrylic on Canvas     36" x 54"

After a great vacation in Hawaii recently, I came back from this interesting and stunningly beautiful place and began to distill the experience in a series of paintings. 

I did a lot of color sketches both in Hawaii and back home and started painting on canvas in the studio.  As I worked, lots of images bubbled up in my mind-outrigger canoe sails, sea turtles, dramatic cliffs, heiau (temple) platforms of dark lava rock. 

Early in the course of working on one large painting, I saw a large area of light, warm colors and another area of darker, perhaps foreboding shapes and colors that seemed out of balance. The issue would be how to mesh the two.  But in thinking about the visual problem I suspected that the dichotomy went deeper than color and arose from my perceptions of the islands themselves. 

Kauai and the Big Island of Hawaii were the setting for our trip. These islands offer plenty of access to wild places that despite their breathtaking and even spiritual beauty can be dangerous.  There is no question that Nature is to be respected here.  Rogue waves, sharp lava rocks and great heights keep one’s senses sharpened.  

In addition to natural dangers, there are historical reminders of human violence.  While some heiaus were places of refuge, hula (prayerful dance) instruction, and thanksgiving, others were designated as temples to war and places of human sacrifice and capital punishment for the breaking of taboos. The latter remain a stark metaphor for the human propensity for evil that mars paradise everywhere.

If we are open, travel (even the vacation kind) and art expose us to reality in all its duality of dark and light and we have to decide how to deal with it.

Large and small canvas tacked to wall in my studio.

Making art can be a very physical activity. In fact, I once looked up how many calories I burned while standing to paint and it turned out to be at least 100 calories/hour, and almost 200 cals/hour with “standing and vigorous effort”!   Standing for long periods, assembling large stretchers, stretching large paintings, tacking big canvas to the wall, and making big sweeping gestures with paint all adds up to some decent physical activity. 

Unfortunately, like other physical work it can also lead to some aches and pains later. To counteract these I try to keep physically fit with regular aerobic and strengthening exercises but I find that stretching before going into the studio helps too. 

Before I paint I usually take a few minutes to center myself mentally so that I can really focus on work.  Now I must also remind myself to take a few minutes to stretch arms and legs, throwing in a “Downward Dog” or “Sun Salutation” as well.  I try to remember to repeat during breaks.  If I forget, my body will often let me know afterwards. 

An artist friend reminded me to do one more thing during painting. “Don’t forget to BREATHE”, she admonished.  It helps as a reminder to unkink all those muscles and joints that are working hard to move paint all over a big canvas, or alternatively freezing into position when you are  seated and bent over working a long time on something small.   It also helps if you are obsessing over a particular area in your painting and need a nudge to get out of it!

Are there any mental or physical  pre-studio routines that you follow  to limber you up for painting or other work? 

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