tangleblot

Another form of disorder -mirrored- becomes unexpected structure.

Tangleblot 1 (our vessels). ink and graphite on paper. 6"x6". 2011. private collection.

Tangleblot 2 (their bones). ink and graphite on paper. 6"x6". 2011. private collection.

Abstract symmetries crept into my work during last spring and summer. This method presents an intriguing way to generate unusual forms, suggestive and yet not derivative.

They appeared, too, during my Plying Thoughts collaboration with Kalina Winska.

note: I'm reaching into the past to bring some of these now older projects to light, so I'm postdating them closer to the time they were made to avoid too much overlap with current projects. Your blogreader might make this confusing.

stare time

The third and most recent manifestation of my spindle drawing proves to me that abstraction can be tricky in numbers. When two or more abstractions sit together, they reach towards one another like curious infants, grasping strands of similarities and examining differences. The search for meaning springs from their nebulous forms and slowly those likenesses and differences fold in upon themselves, gathering complexity. Soon they are babbling.

Traces of Spun #3 (in progress)
graphite on paper, 22 x 30"

I resist the easy, stop to stare, to peek through the veil of possibilities, then work again, each step progressing the forms and progressively slower.
Careful, there is no return to a simpler state.

from the sketchbook archives

Threads drawn by machine and threads drawn by hands imprinted on paper with graphite.  The ambiguity of whether these are prints or drawings pleases me.

spun drawing

208
thread 208 feet
drawing 22 x 30

A record of spinning string. Made with a newly constructed tool; a drawing spindle.
Eventually it will be a series.

For now a larger project is in the works (to be completed in May) so much of my studio time is spent spinning on the wheel.

remnant [a study]

handspun thread embedded in plaster

a voice quite different from past thread drawings

glass bird

old sketches. . .
My friend found this unfortunate little bird underneath a glass bridge; he had flown into it.
These little drawings developed from the first. From flight to two to fish.

graphite, gesso watercolor, transfers

greenware bonedry

because of this little plate with an accidental mark.

tried some glazes today, fingers crossed.

Beds

These are some of the pages of a book I kept specifically for bed drawings and collages. I began with the first collage below on Valentines day, and continued on. There are two books bound dos-a-dos, with about 80 something drawings. The pages are 7" x 9". Click on them if you'd like to see them larger.

these last three are smaller than the rest about 4" x 4 1/2" and on large paint chips

Muscle Memory

This week I've been doing a little bit of figure drawing in my sketchbook. It has been ages and I am sorely out of practice. It is an odd sort of fumble when I begin to draw figures again, looking for shapes and my hand trying to remember the feel of it. I practiced a bit of guerrilla drawing while Tommy was sleeping, which is fairly safe except the drawing ends abruptly when he moves. So eventually I moved on to drawing portraits. My first few attempts were either timid, fussy or impatient, the third self portrait is rather comical, tight facial features and huge jaw. I pretty much grasped it by the fourth attempt.

Rusulka

(re)calling, graphite and gesso, 15" x 6"

This past weekend I heard a radio program that touched me very deeply. The segment was about a Ukrainian songcatcher who records the stories women tell her through song. Some of the songs can be very old or the singers may tell their own personal stories into song weaving in metaphor, myth, and magic to relate the depth of their feelings. The periods of singing could last for hours and hours. Over time some of the spirits that dwell within the culture were sung about, one kind were the domovi house spirits, and another being the Rusalka, the spirits of women who died unjustly or very young, perhaps, unmarried women, women who died in childbirth or drowned. They are sort of nature spirits which can be benevolent or malicious, and one week a year women conduct rituals to appease the rusalki and to avoid natural disasters. Part of the week includes visiting the graves of family members and singing songs to them giving news of the present and and reminiscing about the past. Each woman in the procession has her own melody so the sound becomes a crowd of individual stories some filled with the poignant new grief of recent loss, or occasionally with the bitter words of a widow married to a long dead abusive husband.

As the Ukraine modernizes and the new generation turns to the radio for it's music, this practice is swiftly disappearing. It doesn't help that some of the some of the women interviewed were survivors of Chernobyl, a place that had a history rich with stories of rusulka and as a result these women are unable to perform the rusalki rituals in the place of their ancestors. The loss of a place once again marks the beginning of a loss of the culture.

Mariana the songcatcher also mentions that in the Ukraine the best singers are witches or fortunetellers. The word for witch meaning "the one who knows" how to heal and protect. She tells how at the age of nineteen when she traveled about listening to the songs of women, and one woman sang about Mariana, capturing her essence in song.

I am deeply interested the the ideas of women's personal stories told through song, and then mixed with ideas about reading one's essence, magic, and spirits, I am giddy. This tradition has such resonance for me as I used to sing in the woods that I explored as a child, sometimes my own heartaches, sometimes in nonsensical words, and then it has a connection to the work I've been making all along but especially to the drawings I made after my mom died. The drawing at the top is one of a series of bird drawings I began after my mom died. They all sing telling the stories I couldn't find the words for.

The program is about an hour long, but I highly recommend you to listen to it at thestory.org. The research led to a group based in San Francisco Kitka to make a CD based on these musical traditions. You can listen to two songs here. I am still absorbing the information, researching Russian folk spirits and trying to figure out what it means to me today.

Heat

on steel

figure life sized

Thinking of Durga

chalk on black Rives, 30"x 40"

Durga.
After a number of years, owning my scanner it wasn't until today that I finally figured out how to scan slides, I just assumed it was an awful, horrible scanner that lied on the box, but in fact it does quite an nice job, sorry scanner. Sometimes I wonder about my intelligence. It still takes awhile because I have to correct them in Photoshop, but anyway I've been scanning old work. Here is an old drawing from my first year in college. This drawing made my mom cry with pride, so it holds a special place in my heart. . .

Drawn

Please click on the images for a closer look.

graphite on primed Rives paper
5.5" x 7.5"

These are things found on my porch, drawn there by light and found their death. They are so delicate and small, shells of their former selves. Morbid. I am fascinated by the intricate way the body is put together, such tiny joints, and in drawing them I allow moments of awkwardness to reach in. The moth's small furry leg curls up towards its eye as if it should like to hide from my gaze, while its abdomen and wings disappear into the page. A wasp's identity becomes barely discernible as the lines it is made up of surface and disappear, save its legs which sprawl and clutch. These little drawings are partially in response to seeing my mother’s shell, her life drawn out of her by whomever cleans up after the Fates. Her body present but the picture incomplete.

side note: I determined I would post these two weeks ago, but little did I know they would be so hard to get a digital image of. I spent far too long scanning and tweaking, even built a light box to try photograph them only to find my camera was not up to the task, days passed. . . finally an epiphany and I figured out how to scan it differently. Still not perfect, but so glad I didn't settle.