Instructions

Today's treasures on the light box.

“Pam, how do you find sea glass?”

1. Go to the beach at low tide on one of the crappiest days of the year (windy, rainy, and cold).
2. Be willing to have a drippy nose because you will eventually run out of tissues. 
3. Dress warm; wear wool. 
4. Be okay with soaking wet shoes, socks, and pant bottoms. 
5. Stay bent over the sand at a 90 degree angle, or better yet, crawl around on your hands and knees. 
6. Wear a belt because your pants are going to be falling down from the weight of the glass in your pockets. 
7. Be ready to answer questions from those curious and brave enough to talk to you. 
8. Wear contacts if you have them because you’ll get tired of wiping water away from your glasses. 
9. Remember to keep one eye on the ocean so you are not tumbling in the surf with the glass. 

   10.  And, always remember to use the restroom before you leave the house!

Here you will see some unusual pieces: teal green, purple, white with a blue spot, safety glass, and a baby sand dollar.

Opalescent Glass

Close up of Opalescent Glass

Forest Sketching

Yesterday John and I drove North along the coast to visit Salt Point State Park, just North of Jenner, CA. John’s mission was to photograph mushrooms, I was there to explore and take in the scenery.  These types of trips are often tricky for us.  John can spend up to 30 minutes photographing a subject while I’m standing around waiting.  Need I say more? 

This is the second outing I’ve brought my sketchpad, in an effort to keep myself busy while John is doing his thing.  The first time I tried this I couldn’t bring myself to sketch at all.  I think the difficulty is in shifting from hiking/exploring mode to becoming still and focused.

We walked along the road awhile then veered off trail.  It wasn’t long before John found several mushrooms he wanted to photograph.  I knew this was an opportunity to draw.  I paced the area, scoping out possible drawings.  I wasn’t sure I could do it, to settle down and sketch.  After about 15 minutes I finally picked a sit spot.  Still, I couldn’t draw.  So, I sat and studied the things on the ground around me.  I found cup fungus on a stick, old false chanterelle mushrooms, redwood needles, redwood cones, and Usnea (a light green lichen).   Finally, I started to focus.

A few days ago I visited the Robert Koch Gallery in San Francisco and saw the extraordinary photos of Yamamoto Masao.  The photos were luminous, filled with mystery, light, and nature.  Many reminded me of drawings.  They ignited a small spark of inspiration within me, to draw something small and detailed, with graphite only.  So, sitting there in the woods I turned my attention to the micro.

I picked up a clump of Usnea.  It was very soft and delicate with microscopic little “hairs”.  I found a tiny stick with a pleasing amount of the stuff, brought out the sketchbook, and lost myself in a miniature world.  Before long, my drawing was finished and John wanted to head to the ocean. 

So, I learned an important lesson: drawing on a hiking trip is possible.  It is much like meditating. I need to sit, slow down, take deep breaths, and connect with the landscape. I can’t just whip out my sketchbook and draw like one might do with a point-and-shoot camera.  With this precious knowledge, I know I can and will sketch in nature again and again.  

"Usnea on a Stick", graphite on paper, 8 1/2 x 5 1/2", 2011

“Ch Ch Ch Ch Changes”

Work in Progress

Today I am painting and thinking about change. 

There was this artist whose work I LOVE.  I discovered her paintings at a Mill Valley gallery years ago.  She worked in mixed media, creating narratives that were carefully rendered.  They had a Latin American feel.  She even painted the frames and incorporated them into the pieces.  I took a couple postcards from her shows and drooled over them.  Today, they are as interesting and beautiful to me as they were then. 

Recently I searched for her on the web.  I found a website bearing her name but the work looked nothing like her.  Could it be her?  It was. I confirmed her identity by her exhibition history.   She had become a minimalist!  There was no trace of the old work on her website.  I was shocked and disappointed.  I really liked the old work, I wanted to see it again, and I’m not attracted to minimalism.  How did her work change so drastically?

I can’t answer for her, but I can answer for myself.  My work has steadily changed over the years.  It’s not like I wake up one day and think, “I’m going to do something completely different”.  No, the art evolves.  I’ll be working in one style while in the back of my mind some ideas are percolating. Some of those ideas may brew for years, others may fizzle out before they are mature enough for me to birth them into the world.  When my work shifts it happens with joy.  I am newly inspired and am off exploring the unknown again.  I don’t mourn for the old.  Everything I do is like a steppingstone leading me deeper into the wilderness.  I savor that journey with excitement and anticipation.

My experience with the artist described above is not a new one.  In the arts we often get attached to a style of expression.  We relate to it, and it inspires us.  When the artist changes, we might be left longing for more of the same.  Some will only listen to David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust, unable to embrace the work that followed (most of his career).  Others only like Picasso’s cubist period, or Kandinsky’s early work.  That’s okay.  We can listen to those albums and look at those paintings over and over.  They will continue to bring us joy.  No one expects us to like everything an artist creates.  All I ask is to be respectful of the mystery of artistic process and accept inevitable change.

“Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge.” – Eckhart Tolle

“Without change something sleeps inside us, and never wakens.” – Duke Leo Artides

New Beginnings

Celebrating the New Year is not terribly meaningful for me.  It’s just a date.  Why not make any moment of any day a “New Year”?  The chance to start over, make plans, and adjust focus should not be limited to this annual event.  However, this year January 1^st coincided with some inner shifts, and the holiday felt significant to me. I decided I wanted to start the first full week of January with work in progress.

When I paint, I like to work on many pieces at once.  There are several reasons for this method.  For one, it’s practical.  I work in oil, and I work small.  Paintings quickly reach a point where they need to dry before being reworked.  If I sat around waiting for the paint to dry I would loose productivity, and perhaps my momentum.  Also, working on many paintings at once creates a cohesive set, reflecting my frame of mind and skill in a given time period.  Finally, if life distracts me from painting, I find it is much easier to start up again with unfinished pieces rather than start something fresh.  Again, it is all about momentum.  So, over the past seven days I started thirteen paintings.  

Work in Progress

This next set reflects a change in subject matter.  I’m taking a break from found beach objects and exploring a theme I’ve been thinking about for a long time, candy. For me, it’s not too dissimilar from sea glass.  Hard candy is colorful, luminous, and sometimes translucent like glass.  Instead of hunting the beach for subject matter, I’m hunting in shops around San Francisco.   Also, I love that my palette is expanding.  With candy I get to use bright pink, yellow, orange, and green!  These indulgences come in a myriad of shapes and designs further expanding my repertoire. Beautiful sweets draw our eye and entice us with the promise of something delicious.  Unlike sea glass, we can physically consume the beauty.  

 

You might be wondering if I will eat my subjects once the paintings are complete.  Uh, …no.  I’ve been handling them way too much, they are sitting out collecting dust, and are exposed to paint and solvents.  Believe it or not, I don’t have a sweet tooth.  With the exception of chocolate, my definition of culinary bliss is a bowl full of salty cheese popcorn.

My subjects!