The New Studio

I have been missing in action on the blog lately- partly due to procrastination, lack of reliable internet & free time, and general busy-ness. I was wrapped up in preparing for the Somerville Open Studios which meant I took a detour from my usual grand scale paintings to do more small scale landscapes. I planned to return to painting and start a new large series of pieces but instead I ended up having to move studios and contribute to another small show. So instead of new paintings to share, I have some images of my bigger and better studio space. The photo above is the entry space-- I liked how the light came in through the windows and hit the floor. Below is my studio space. I have not settled in yet. I am still figuring out storage and where to put things and eventually I will build walls to separate it from the larger space it is in so it will be more private.



The best part of the space is that it is over 3 times as large as my last space, better maintained, and with much higher ceilings. There are no trees growing out the roof... or faint odor of plumbing issues. I have about 250 square feet now. I had 80 before as illustrated below:



There was barely enough space to turn around or stand up and was probably better suited to a painter of miniatures. The new space costs more but it comes with better facilities, common areas, a rooftop deck, parking, community. I'm eager to get started on a new bunch of paintings & drawings. I'm in the process of planning them out now.

Also since I have been a bit behind on things I have not posted my latest big drawing (about 3x4 feet). Right now I call it "Nearby Distance" which still could change. It is another work where I try to play with mental and physical geography. The left half of the drawing is Los Angeles, the right have is the woods of New England. It is about how people can be connected even when physically apart. Even though the drawing rearranges geography and shows figures near each other- it implies an emotional distance between them that may be even more difficult to cross than the physical distance between the east & west coasts.



I'm also making more of an effort to include men in my paintings. I haven't included them very often for several reasons. Most of my paintings are a form self portraits that come from my own experiences. When I visualize things, I don't see men. It doesn't make sense in context with the ideas in my head. Substituting a man for a woman would change the meaning drastically and would raise a completely different set of issues than what I intend. When I really started painting heavily (beyond just college) I started with a series that explored vulnerability. It was ultimately about being alone in a big city... as a woman. For me the "woman" part went without saying, it was just a given since I am a woman.* Those paintings worked better with women since society sees them as "vulnerable." A man walks alone in the woods- so what. A woman does the same and she is told that is too dangerous. So swapping the figure with a man would change the meaning.

Even now that my paintings are not as much about vulnerability and have more mysterious narratives- it would still change the meaning to have a man. These days when I paint figures, the women often exist in their own internal worlds. With multiple women in one painting, I often see them as different aspects of the same person, even if their physical appearances are not the same. So including a man would feel like an intrusion of sorts. Or the painting would become more about a relationship between a man and a woman instead of a portrait of single person's internal world. Once it becomes about two characters I worry that a painting/drawing becomes even more narrative perhaps inches closer to illustration. However, I have decided to question my instinct to only use women and try to change things up without getting too far from my artistic voice. I This drawing is my first attempt, and I am working on some other ideas as well. I will probably also turn this drawing into a painting as well because I think it would be more successful in color.


*But I feel I don't need to explain that when I talk about my paintings I am now because people always ask why I paint women and I admit it is frustrating since I don't think it needs explaining.

Eight Years in LA, a portrait.

Eight Years in LA, a portrait.
Originally uploaded by Bekka Teerlink

This is a departure. I was going to post another entery in my steady flow of people sketches of late. But my mood has skewed to the other end of the spectrum this week. Instead of looking outward I am looking inward I guess. It is a rather large jolt to suddenly be 3000 miles away from my home for the last eight years. I forgot how to live anywhere else. I'm still comparing everything to LA as I find stores, things to do, concerts, art galleries, museums, the cafe that will have my new favorite tea.

Tonight I'm in a particularly reflective mood. I go to many concerts. Many. 1-3 a week, depending on my usualy flux of commitments and projects. And always local musicians because I enjoy small venues and lending support to musicians I like. Since I've been in the Boston area (4 months now?) I've gone to just two concerts. It's sad. Because I only know Los Angeles music I found myself at a concert tonight of an old favorite from LA, Ferraby Lionheart.

But what I thought would be a night of getting inspired or getting lost in music became a night of being homesick for Los Angeles. It was also sad because I know that many of the most important things I loved in LA have since left or ceased to exist. Jobs. Friends. Music venues. Radio stations. Art galleries. It was time for me to leave as well.

However I miss having eight years of memories around me-- of places I went, things I did, people I met. When you stay in one place for so long the city becomes layered with personal experiences.

So this week I wanted to find a way to draw those experiences-- like a web of places and paths and emotions all over the city. I decided to draw a map of Los Angeles, but not a street map-- a map of everything I did in eight years there.

This is not meant to look like Los Angeles really, or be accurate with streets. This is out of my head and it may not make sense to anyone else. But here you go....

Today's thoughts

This week I wish I was a video or installation artist. But all my ideas require

a) significant money
b) significant planning
c) permits, insurance
d) a reputation as an known installation art to help grease the wheels on all the above.

(I have a brilliant video art idea that requires filming inside an art museum and putting a camera near a priceless painting. I'm keeping the details to myself in case I ever pull it off. But, having a film background, it would be impossible without some special permissions. There are major insurance issues....)

But in some ways my paintings are 2D installation or experiences. I had a photography teacher who once compared what I was doing at the time to Andy Goldsworthy-- only in 2D. The more I think about it-- it might be kind of true, and maybe I'm thinking of my paintings scenes as installation.

Only I have control of the angle, and the viewer cannot walk inside to experience it. I think the figures are there to represent the viewer and give them eyes to see through.

Though if it was an installation I don't know how I'd get a tidal pool indoors, so it would have to be outside. And if it was outside I don't know how it would be clear that he oil derricks were art, not oil. Though it is true that when I see fields of oil derricks (ah, Los Angeles) I just scream inside and want to show everyone how absurd it is.

But I can make them look absurd in a painting and then viewers get the point. I'm more of a painter anyway.

Some days I just want to shake things up and experiment with non-painting based art ideas. Bleh, my brain hurts.

Tomorrow I am going to the MFA. But I kind of wish I was going to the ICA. Maybe I'll do that this weekend.

Rest

It's been a busy year of shows and I think I'm done for now. I have no more deadlines planned and unless something unexpected pops up, I'm going to take a break to focus on painting for a few months.

Deadlines are good for initial motivation-- but I'm finding right now that they are getting in the way of me taking the time I need to really explore and take risks with my paintings. In a crunch I will always fall back into my comfort zone or take shortcuts, and I have to start being harder on myself.

And I think having 6-8 shows in a year with new pieces is a bit much. I want to focus on fewer and better quality shows. For now I want to develop some new work and play with new ideas.

I'm thinking of trying a completely different direction and doing some portraits. Portraiture was may first love, and there's a part of me that just wants to capture people. But I may also try some new things in my current direction: new style, color, series. Who knows where I will take it-- but I'm just excited that I don't have any schedule.

In the meantime, I got tons of finished paintings here that need to find walls. Though I assume this is not the best economic environment to sell paintings, but it would be nice to clean house right now and make a truly clean start.

Blessed

I feel like some paintings that I make are blessed. As if the planets aligned and allowed a bit of magic in while I paint. Sometimes I don't know it at the time, some times I do. But when the painting is done, everybody can see the magic on the canvas.

I love paintings like this, and I hate them. I love it when a painting comes out awesome. But I hate it when I try to harness that magic for the next painting. It's not that can always be controlled.

So there's a tendency for some paintings to be more precious than others. And I feel like a precious painting is the enemy of a good artist. It traps them into trying to always recreate or one-up that painting, instead of thinking truly creatively or independently.

Not only do paintings like this trap me creatively, I get emotionally attached to them so I don't want to ever part with them. They are one of a kind and never again to be created. The longer I have them in my space, the higher the attachment and the price tag I would put on them to give them up.

So how do I proceed when I've created such a beautiful monster of a painting? Do I get sell it low & move away from it as quickly as possible for the sake of creativity? Or do I keep it for the sake of emotional attachment?

It's hard not ever being sure what a painting is really worth, and if it even matters at all. If I'm just painting for the love of it, maybe I should just let people name their price. But on the other hand, I've always been the type of painter who would prefer to never let anything go at all. I love covering all my walls with my work and let it stare back at me. If I had the money, I'd probably buy more walls instead of selling pieces.

From Copenhagen to Los Angeles

(image by me of a woman biking in Vienna outside the Hofburg)


Okay, today I'm not blogging about art.... it's bicycles instead.

I've been cheating on LA and starting to read some European biking blogs (www.copenhagencyclechic.com, www.copenhagenize.com. Ever since I accidentally stepped into a Vienna bike path and was nearly hit by 30 bicycles coming straight at me, it was true love. So when it came to choosing a bike for myself (something I've been wanting to do for a couple years and not having the cash or the guts to bike alongside cars) I thought maybe I'd want a European looking bike since that is what first inspired me. And because to me, spandex and aerodynamic looking helmets are not sexy to me. I don't want to look like that. I had to do it my own way. Which is slow. And by slow, I mean dressed nice, casually cycling over to Figaro for a pain au chocolat or to Trader Joes for fresh mozzarella and avocados. To me this is how life should be lived. Slow and casual with plenty of small pleasures and sites to see. I've been biking to work and while it's changed my commute time from 20 minutes to 60, I am out in the sun meeting people, stopping for a casual muffin, and developing legs of steel. I know to some it sounds ridiculous to triple my commute. But so far I eat better, sleep better, feel better, avoid traffic & parking & gas, and feel more intimately acquainted with things around me. So when I read about the Slow Bike movement on Copenhagize.com, I decided I had to bring the concept to LA.


(image via copenhagize.com)

And why not? People in Los Angeles are all about style. We can just shift that from driving in Mercedes to cycling around on a Velorbis bicycle. Or for those who can't go all out and have a bike shipped sight unseen, to to Metropolis and they'll hook you up with an Electra
bike (get the Amsterdam model!) So I want to encourage all you Los Angeles girls out there to get dressed up and get the ultimate accessory, a bicycle. Let the boys can have their spandex, and we don't need to give up our heels. We'll be green in our own stylish way.

Also, just a note for the fearful: it's not that scary to bike on the street. I just take less busy roads or suburban streets or walk my bike across the supremely busy intersections. You don't need to dart in and out of traffic, fighting with cars to get in the left turn lane. Just take a deep breath, relax, go sloooow. If you get there 10 minutes later, who really cares. It's 10 minutes more of sunshine and freedom.

Gesso vs. Oil Ground

Oil priming is the way to go. It is more messy & smelly, but the surface is a million times better. It has a smoothness and shine that just takes paint beautifully. While acrylic gesso has a rubbery plastic feel, and absorbs oil paint in a way that is not as graceful. However it is cheaper and faster and much less smelly.

I'm painting on gesso this week, mainly because I realized it is more cost efficient for the price I'm selling my paintings at right now. It doesn't make sense to put $$$$ into my paintings (plus much more labor), when I only get $ in return. I am only doing this on tiny paintings, and I feel guilty for it because I want to use the best materials possible. But I only have so much money to pour into my art right now, and until I start more money flowing in I think I have to cut some corners and compromise a little so I can pay my rent.

But I'm realizing I really really don't like gesso surfaces for oil. (For Acrylic it's fine, but I only used acrylic with mixed media because it doesn't eat away at cloth/paper the way oil does.) To me, using acrylic is like shooting video instead of film. It just doesn't have the softness that oil does.

I was reading this book the other day called Chemistry & Artist colors. Most of it is way over my head, but I did start to get a hint of understanding of the molecular constitution of oil paint and how it changes as it dries. It was very interesting. I'm curious to know about the make-up of acrylics. I'll have to keep reading that book. But it's slow going with all the symbols of molecules and how they interact with other molecules. I have to reread sections quite a bit.

Paper Craving

ulcer04
Originally uploaded by Bekka Teerlink

I suddenly am craving working on paper. Not in the doodling in a sketchbook kind of way. Something more ambitious. I'm always more experimental with paper and mixed media as this image shows. Though part of it might be that I'm not trying to be ambitious when I do stuff like this. Though generally stuff like this comes out when I'm working through some sort of stress. I tend to not produce it except under the right circumstances since it is more art therapy than anything else. It's more personal and expressive, and feels much more primitive I guess. Maybe I mean instinctual. Like the art equivalent of sucking my thumb. When I'm in a good mood and I try to reproduce this sort of thing I usually come up with nothing. This piece was done at a time when I was particularly stressed about a money situation, so stressed that I had a bad stomach ache for a month. Eventually I dealt with the situation and the stomachache and these pieces about ulcers went way.

But there is something freeing about making stuff like this. Generally I am no good at expressionist or abstract or non-observational art. I am mostly inspired by things I see. If that's taken away, then I'm just swirling colors around like a kid and I have a hard time figuring out where to put the blue and the green and the red and what it will all add up to in the end. I need to have a concept or idea, which I generally always get from things I see around me. Drawings like the one above come from out of my head which I am more suspicious of. I don't know if they hold up well and they usually seem kind of trivial. And then there's the fact that I don't produce them consistently. Maybe if I did more stuff like this they would develop and grow. In school I would do things like this and art professors would always push me away from it, as if it wasn't worth my time. I suppose it is insecure territory. But still there are moments where it is incredibly satisfying to do stuff like this.

Perhaps it is because of the rigid painting schedule I have been in the last couple of months. But I want to make messy pictures of nothing on paper.

So tired. So happy.

I can't be someone who's always on, always going going going... which has been proven by the last 2 months of mad furious productivity... and then the inevitable energy crash that came yesterday. I was so tired I was physically shaking for a good part of the day. Some good tea helped to steady me.

I told myself I would keep going strong, I've been painting so much and I have soooo many new ideas but I need a break to sleep and eat better for a while. And maybe exercise. (I'm buying a bike and going to bike to work!)

I think I'm going to read a book for a change of pace. Another thing that went by the wayside. "The Night Watch." And I joined a book group. Another change of pace, and one of my new years resolutions. And I'll go see some live music again (Hello Avett Brothers!) And I'm going camping too, and it will be the first time since I was 12 surprisingly (well not counting setting up the time I slept in a tent in my backyard in high school.) OH AND THEN THERE'S THE MOST IMPORTANT THING-- I'M GOING TO PARIS IN APRIL, A MONTH FROM NOW! I'll be eating tons of pastry and looking at my most favorite paintings in the world and doing a series of artsy photos hopefully for a future show.

I'm really looking forward to all of this. I love my life, even when I'm grumpy and hungry and tired like right now.

Lastly, if you live in LA (or surrounding areas) come to my show this Saturday!

High on fumes.

I just painted straight through the weekend only stopping long enough to go to an art opening for few hours Saturday night. I didn't even watch the Academy Awards which is a first for me, well a first in a long long time (since 1991 at least... when I didn't have TV.) I made immense progress though not everything is quite finished, probably 80% finished. But it's good since Friday I was at 20% or less and very much freaking out. I tend to bite off more than I can chew. If I'm required to paint 1 new painting for a show, I paint 8. I already have more work than I could ever put in one show, but I like to always have new cool things to show. And I like to look like I work hard and make consistent work, not that anybody really keeps track besides me.

What I like about painting at such a maddening pace is that I tend to learn massive amounts overnight, and that ideas flow more easily. What I hate about it is that there's that inevitable crash that comes after the show or after 7 too many late nights. Then I go into lazy mode (TV, eating tons of dessert, reading crap on the internet) which is hard to get out of once I fall into a routine. I'm going to try not to let that happen after the show, because I have way too much taking off creatively. But sometimes it's unavoidable, just because there's no more deadline and the motivation fades away.

So I'm working on 8 (holy shit!) new paintings for this show. I just counted them in my head now. And I got more ideas too, that I probably won't get to unless I start taking drugs to keep me working all night too. I'm really I hope I sell a bit, just because I think I officially killed all my brushes this weekend. And I'll be out of pretty much every earth tone as well as cadmium orange and Williamsburg's Sevres blue (BEST COLOR EVER!) And I'm getting short on storage for paintings real fast.

I've been listening to a bunch of Bob Dylan while painting, it's the mood I'm in, and I think it's getting into the paintings. I wanted to call one of my pieces "Bob Dylan's Dream" but then I decided it was lame. Especially because I'm only now discovering Dylan and everybody else on the planet knows his music so much better than I, and he's been referenced so many times already. But yeah, I've somehow gone nearly 3 decades never having really listened to any of his music except what I've heard on the radio in passing. But I get it now.

Looking to Van Gogh...

I've been reading some of Van Gogh's letters to his brother-- I recommend them for any artist or art lover. It's one of the best art reads out there, with many great insights into Van Gogh and the world he lived in. Today I decided to start reading from the beginning with his first letter in the collection (by Irving Stone) and I'll try to read straight through to the end in order. In the first letter he mentions the above painting by Millet and then goes on to give this advice:

"Try to walk as much as you can, and keep your love for nature, for that is the true way to learn to understand art more and more. Painters understand nature and love her and teach us to see her. If one really loves nature, one can find beauty everywhere."

Vincent Van Gogh
London, June 1873

At Sea

It's an in between week for me. In between shows, in between paintings, kind of a no man's land of creativity. A week where nothing will happen as I am out of canvases and finished with the ones I have... and I itch for another deadline to burn myself out on. I should start planning my next pieces (before I find myself with a new and impossible deadline upon me.) But instead I've been playing rainy-weepy guitar for hours broken up by periodic trips to various bookstores to see if they have Anais Nin's Collages which I am determined to read next (even though I have a stack of other unread books right next to me. I should read those first probably....) I just read the other day that Anais Nin lived not more than 2 miles from here, and I tend to cling to any shred of literary history that Los Angeles can claim. I almost walked to her house yesterday but had to stop myself because I had things to do and it was getting dark.

I am pondering my next paintings, there are several distinct stages of painting. For me it seems the conception of paintings is separate from the actual painting. I will spend a month or two brainstorming and developing my paintings-- this usually involves sketching in photoshop, collecting reference, and just churning out the basic framework for a number of pieces. This is usually the most creative part of painting, but sometimes the physically most dull part because it involves sitting in front of a computer more than a canvas. The actual painting I love completely, because I'm on my feet in action. It becomes a sort of a dance with music blaring and my brush moving to the rhythm. I love it because it is very high energy, creative, and instinctual (versus intellectual and sendentary.) When I'm painting, I usually have a permanent high. And right now, this week is the exact opposite-- that low valley between mountains, an anticlimax.

Hopefully by the end of the week I'll find the beginnings of my next paintings, and I'll start work on some canvas frames. (Yay, woodworking time!) Perhaps the industry of cutting lumber and the rush of using power tools is just what I need. I may be fancy this time and break out my router and make my own beveled edges.

Cigarettes and Red Vines

I saw Aimee Mann today on Vermont Blvd. I had her CD Bachelor No. 2 on repeat when I first moved to LA (along with The Who's greatest hits.) I got to see her perform at Largo last year, I was sitting 4 feet from the stage with best bud Guillermo and sipping on a dirty martini. It was one of the best live shows I've seen, despite the fact she kept forgetting her own lyrics (thankfully the audience could help her there.) Seeing her reminded me of that awesome show, and made me think of all the wonderful shows I've gone to here in LA. Here is my top list of the best musicians/performers I've seen:

1. Josh Ritter - I've seen him 4 times live and every show I'm blown away. It's partly the sheer energy, the stage persona, and the band as a whole. I think his lyrics are the most interesting and wonderful that I've heard. I'm really drawn to the images and concepts in them, and he uses the most bizarre juxtapositions and references. I had been thinking about metaphor in literature vs. painting for a while (See my painting "In The Ruins of the City" for a prior attempt.) But it was his CD "The Animal Years" that crystallized my thinking about this and compelled me to follow my instinct about using my own bizarre juxtapositions of imagery (see "The Edge of the World.") I'll probably write more about this later, since it's been on my mind again as I start a new series of paintings in the vein of The Edge of the World...
2. Mia Doi Todd - Every time I go see her I seriously float home and start painting or writing poetry furiously. Her lyrics are so plain and deceptively simple yet beautiful-- they often consist of simple observations but it takes someone like her to turn them from ordinary to an extraordinary song. I studied poetry in college with Olga Broumas, and reading poetry aloud was very important there. When poetry is read well, it has a musical quality. And Mia's music/voice somehow seems to straddle the world of music and poetry. Plus she performs barefoot and uses a harmonium, and I looove things like that.
3. Ferraby Lionheart - Another LA local, I first heard his music on the radio as I was moving my last load of belongings to my new place here in Silverlake. It took me a while to track him down online (now it's not as hard since he's starting to get some attention) but I was able to see him play solo a couple days later. I think what struck me about him is his reserved quality as well as how magical his music is. I also find something familiar about his music, and after some thought I decided that his songs feel like songs I would write myself (well... if I could write music.)
4. Aimee Mann- I loved her live, partly because of the intimacy of the venue and the casual quality of the performance. She had no set list, and I think some of her back up musicians were not her normal people and just following along. Also since I found her music during a transitional period in my life so it just holds so much extra meaning for me.

Website Updated, for now.

I've updated my website so it has my latest paintings. I also reorganized the order that the paintings are viewed, so the recent ones pop up first (sort of, they're also somewhat ordered by concept too.) I also put a semi-coherent artist statement which shall be revised once I get a 1st and 2nd and 3rd opinion on it. It's still nowhere near perfect. It's hard to write one universal statement to cover every idea in my head and in my work. There's still so much I didn't get into, I feel like I could write a book. It's is additionally hard to write a statement when I'm going through a period where I'm feeling a bit scattered artistically. I had a show a few weeks ago where I saw a bunch of my recent pieces next to each other and I felt they were so different as if they were separated by years and not days or months. I resolved then to be more focused and unified somehow, even if it was just done by a unified color palette. I'm still turning this all over in my head, and I got a sort of unsatisfied feeling in my stomach. I know at some point I'll find my new direction and start a brilliant new series of paintings. For now, I'm loosing myself in music and a bit of poetry as a change of pace.

Try to compose it,
it fails
the center vanishes

the figure
suddenly
nowhere
in sight

or hiding under
scraps of buildings
the columns of a fallen bridge
any thing hard will do
as shield
or carapace

yet nothing stays
everything disperses
you cannot draw this
dust as it rises

excerpt from the poem "To the Far Corners of Fractured Worlds" by Susan Griffin. (from The Gift of Tongues by Copper Canyon Press.)

(I just realized I don't know the protocol for quoting poetry or other published material in a blog. Is it allowed, and how much? I have absolutely no clue, it's such a new world for me. If this has crossed any lines, please politely inform me and I'll remove it.)

bohemian night

Walking at night is lovely in silverlake, I think i could walk forever along the dark curvy roads that seemingly go nowhere. this time of year there aren't as many flowers blooming, that I missed. their scent is stronger at night and reminds me of northern Israel where there is a city I visited where the air is filled with the aroma of every flower possible and I've tried to figure out what flowers they were ever since. And I swear there are the same flowers here in LA.... But tonight the aroma was more of mulch and dirt which is pleasant in a different way. And the hills were very quiet, just the hum of traffic in the distance. I don't like to listen to music when I walk. Natural sounds are even better... the brief bits of conversation, TV, music. The constant rhythm of my feet. I steal glimpses into lit windows that feel like frames of pictures. I see vases, couches, chandeliers, framed art, books. I wonder what they read, who they are, what they do, where they go. Everything looks charming in a window, it's like a miniature stage with much quieter drama. Sometimes there are no characters at all. The roads are very narrow with little lighting and steep inclines. The homes are build into the hills and overgrown plants in a haphazard terraced manner. Some of the homes look like the big earthquake has already hit. They have crooked doors and sagging beams and the paint falls off like paper. There are vines every where, and hidden staircases and lamps meekly radiating yellow light. There are no straight lines or order, and it's almost as if you can see all the changes and incremental movement of the landscape from decades layered on top of each other like multiple exposures.

My walk ended at spaceland-- which was more a reason to walk through the hills at night than a destination. I have returned to sketching musicians and crowds. It seemed like I needed to be a bit bohemian and return to living fluidly without structure or discipline. When I draw from people (especially in a public place) there is no control. People move, stand still, turn around, block your view-- whatever is unexpected. It's nice to sketch them because I can't get too precious about anything. I see a nice moment... such as a person whispering in another's ear, a couple embracing, a person walking through my view... and it's gone. I draw what I can. Sometimes it's a figure, somtimes it's just an elbow or outline or nose. I layer the drawings on top of each other and they form a sort of messy shape of gestures. Again, it's kind of like multiple exposures. Little is recognizable, I capture the energy of a person or people moving by and it's gone. And then among all this I like to put the sketchpad down and join the picture because behind all of this is the music which always put's me in a transcendent mood and makes me skip home giddy and glowing.

hmm... I should write more.

I've been missing for a while. Somehow months slipped by. But they were busy months, full of art, as well as annoying stuff like 15 yr old cars with dying transmissions, subways, working weekends, logistics of organizing a show, preparing for the show, having the show, and now recovering from the show (recovery means watching re-runs of shows on cable wearing pajamas at 5pm.)

I think I'm now into a new period of creative things. I'm going to paint more, photograph more, write more. I have to stop going in so many directions, and not rush. Deadlines are good though, but I've had too many lately. I just hope I don't get lazy without them for the next little bit.

Above is a commission I did recently in the middle of all the craziness. It came out great-- and I think I need to do more like it. It's mixed media (acrylic, gesso, gel medium, pages torn out of Franny & Zooey) & covered by a couple layers of UV gloss, on panel.

It of my friend Julie who was in a Franny & Zooey inspired movie I made a couple years back. For this piece I worked from video, which is unique. Actually I recently saw a show where the artist supposedly painted from video-- I don't know if he painted from video as it played or from a video still (I'm curious...). But for my piece, I captured a couple stills from a scene and superimposed them, and fiddled with them a little in photoshop-- and then painted from the photoshop image as well as a series of 3 still frames. I'm thinking video might be a cool way to work now, even from moving video. I have to play with it more. But I like having a digital step to my art-- even if there is no digital element literally in my work. I do all my preparatory "sketches" in photoshop now. Sometimes I sketch stuff and composite it in the computer (so I can move it around.) Other times it's photos. I can play with color and composition-- and it is much faster than painting a series of miniature painting studies. My teachers in school would have a heart attack about this though. And perhaps a miniature painting could serve a purpose too. But I have limited time, and I never allowed myself anything digital before... and I always had such purist art teachers who never planted the possibilities of technology in my head. But I'm sure had the Renaissance or Impressionists, etc. had photoshop-- they would have used it like crazy.

stir crazy

I've been in my house painting all day (well, painting and checking myspace) and I'm getting stir crazy. I want to go outside to stores and buy things. But I don't need anything-- except fresh air. I just need to paint paint paint.

Since the holidays I've been painting like crazy, and taking slides and submitting to things. I haven't had a moment to spare really-- just using every free minute to get things done. Today's the first day back painting after a mad stretch of self promotion. I feel rusty. The colors are all wrong and I'm getting too tight-- I think my paintings look better loose and messy-- but sometimes I start to get tight and I go too far and things start getting flat and one dimensional, like the face of a lady with a really bad face lift. It all gets muddled and lifeless.

I'm working on a new series of paintings which I should be done with soon since I've been working so much. Plus I'm submitting them to a show on Monday, so they have to be close to done by then. I got rejected from my first show of the year already as well-- but I'll stay positive, because I have so much better stuff happening that hasn't been seen by anybody yet.

For the time being, I just gotta focus on working and resist the urge to go on 5hr walks or to the mall to try on clothes. When I get frustrated with painting, I itch to quit and do something else but I've found that working through it is the best thing-- and when i learn the most. And it's no good to just paint when I'm in the mood to paint well. I'd only paint one month out of the year at that rate-- spread through out the year.

working working working

I've been working steadily on a new series lately. I was a little lost for a while about what direction I was goin in, but I've think I've found it now. I'll hopefully post some new real paintings at the start of the new year. For now I'm trying to spend as much time working as possible as well as dedicating some time to self promotion and organizing of shows. Hopefully there will be more of that in the new year.

For now, my latest venture is selling some miniature collages in a boutique on Sunset Blvd. Anyone interested can visit Bingo's Craft Emporium at 3908 Sunset Blvd. in Silverlake (next to Pull My Daisy.) It's only a temporary space set up for the holidays, but it has lots of interesting things by area artists. I started making miniature collages/paintings for friends as gifts (since I hang on to the big paintings) and they recommended I sell them as magnets. They're just the type of thing people buy for fun and as gifts, at least I hope so. We'll see.

good art day

I had a 3-day weekend-- 2 days of which I spent trying to unpack a little more (at least the boxes I keep tripping over) and get my living space in order after 2 weeks of utter stress and chaos.

But today, day 3, I painted all day. It was the 1st real painting day since I moved in. I have spent the last month or two doing cute little sketches while I got myself together. But sketches are not totally satisfying because they are light and quick and not at all serious and rigorous.

I've started some new paintings. One of them was an idea I started planning before the whole moving thing interruped me. Because of that they go along with the last group of paintings I did more than anything. However, since I'm in a new location new ideas and inspirations are creeping into my head that will affect how the new things come out.

I'm also thinking I need to start a new series of paintings because I'm in a different place emotionally and mentally. I have new ideas bubbling to the surface-- I don't really know how to express them in words since they're still in that murky area between thoughts and images. But the key thing I am after (which is really just a criticism of my last group of paintings) is to make them less precious and beautiful. This may be from seeing how people react to my paintings-- they think they are "beautiful." However I intended them all to have a subtle dark side too. They all are meant to have a fairy tale quality and part of that is a sense of adventure and exploration as well as danger and vulnerability. In the next paintings I do I want to amplify these elements-- but without beating the viewer over the head with a mallet.

I feel like I need to take some time to think about what I have been painting for the last year. Generally I paint what I want to paint without much second guessing. But when I turn a page and start painting new things-- that's when I feel the need to look back and analyze myself. Not to say that there's no thought put into choosing a painting idea at the beginning. It's just that usually at that point it's more of gut idea or response to something around me than an intellectual thought process.

For now I need to spend the week prepping new canvases and getting model(s) for this weekend. For tonight I don't know if I can keep going-- or if I should eat dinner and go see a band play or something. I probably won't sketch if I go out-- I'm not in the mood. But I don't know if I'm in the mood to have idle hands at a concert. (I really like having that sense of purpose that comes with sketching in public... like carrying a drink around... except I can't afford to keep a drink in my hand all night.)

candlelight and quill pens

My computer is currently in the hospital and while I don't think of myself particularly chained to it I suddenly feel like I am in the dark ages. I feel like I should take my technology deprivation a step further and light candles and write sordid romance novellas with quill pen.

Instead I've been pretty unproductive and have been focusing on watching old black and white films on TCM and eating loads of halloween candy (mmmm...sugar & Tyrone Power.)

I do have alot to do-- much of it tied to my computer. I am spending the weekend taking digital photos and doing pencil and photoshop sketches all for a new painting series I'm working on. (Plus I need to play with my website and make new business cards and all that self-promotiony stuff.) So I'm a little discouraged without my little silver Mac buddy to help me.