After what seemed like forever, the beloved Eskenazi Museum of Art at Indiana University reopened this week. For a town that hovers on average at 100,000 people, we are spoiled to have a free, world-class museum just minutes away. I was fortunate to be among many volunteers that welcomed visitors back in to see the newly re-imagined space.Continue reading “Reopened Eskenazi Museum a treasure for printmaking”
Do you ever get a feeling simply from the color or shape of something? Sanctum (below) came about as I mused about what made me feel supported and renewed. Relying on a Voronoi diagram matrix, I employed both color and shape to explore these emotions. (New readers: You can learn more about my obsession with Voronoi diagrams and art here.)
I purposefully used the structure in different ways. Some were familiar polygons, and others more angular. I can see several examples from nature that are evoked by these elements. But I’d rather not influence your reactions.
What do you see?
The tenuous balance between variety and unity continues to challenge me. In my monoprint collages, I begin with a monoprinted matrix — the beginnings of unity. But as I add different elements — vintage maps, monoprints, monoprinted maps — too much variety can be, well, too much.Continue reading “Searching for Unity”
I continue to take my art on the road. Eight of my reduction linocuts are part of an exhibition at Prairie State College in Chicago Heights, IL. Titled Art Reflects Science, the exhibition also includes work by Vera Scekic and Hunter Cole. Scekic exploits poured acrylic layers, often scraping, sanding and splicing to create imagery that feels like primordial cells. Geneticist and artist Cole uses bioluminescent bacteria in solution as paint, photographing her work as the bacteria grows stronger and then weaker.
You can read an article about the exhibit here.
I usually work by myself in my home studio. Collaboration is difficult as my cats simply are not that motivated. During my recent workshop at Penland School of Craft I had several opportunities to collaborate with other artists. I found it to be both delightful and challenging.
The workshop was led by April Flanders, a professor at Appalachian State University, who creates large-scale installations using paper and printmaking. We also had a vastly qualified studio assistant in Lauren Kussro, who is a professor of art at the University of Houston-Clear Lake. Both artists encouraged us to find ways to collaborate, seeing how the imagery of one person could compliment that of others.
Lauren and I embarked on a collaboration — each starting with one piece of paper. As we printed layers, we exchanged the papers back and forth. Collaboration One was created with monoprinting, stencils, screen printing and colored pencils. This one came home to live in my studio. I need to work on a better title.
Collaboration Two was created using monoprinting, poster board stencils, screen printing, frosted mylar (printed with both litho ink and screen printing) and paper cutting. Deciding to cut this work was very nerve-wracking, but I was pleased with the results. This one lives with Lauren in Houston. She said she was going to add some pencil work to it, and I’m looking forward to seeing the results.
April and Lauren also facilitated a broader collaboration with our entire studio. 11 x 11inch papers were posted on the gray fabric-covered display boards, inviting us to print something, or cut, or sew… The possibilities were infinite. The final prints were offered in the silent and live auctions at the end of the session, with the proceeds benefitting the Penland scholarship programs.
I’m not sure when I will have the opportunity to collaborate again, but I thoroughly enjoyed the process. Stay tuned!
Here are some snapshots of some of the new things I learned during my workshop at Penland School of Craft this summer. The class was filled with ideas of how you could push printmaking beyond the traditional. Rather than creating one finished idea, I spend much of my time trying things that were novel to me, and following ideas down rabbit holes…
I spent a good portion of time learning about screen printing. My last experience with screen printing was during my studies at IU, where we were limited to using drawing fluid and screen filler (think liquid clay here) to create imagery. Now I had access to an exposure unit, so I could create patterns using an opaquing pen, rubylith film or just plain thick paper stencils.
I also printed on everything except my studio mates. I am fascinated with translucent materials, so I worked on frosted mylar, as well as thin mulberry. I’m still working out the kinks of printing litho ink on the mylar, but screen printing works like a champ.
Now the question is how do I use this new-found knowledge? For now, my creations reside in a comfy box in my studio, quietly waiting for the next idea to germinate…
It has finally stopped raining in the Ohio River Valley. Until a week ago, constant rain and heavy storms caused flooding in places that are nowhere near a river. Lake Monroe, built in the 1960s by the Army Corps of Engineers for flood control, is doing its job. It is 13 feet about normal levels. Water is relentless.
My latest collage, Riparian Perseverance, had me pondering the differing effects of water on disparate places. East coast cities like Annapolis and Boston are experiencing flooding even on sunny days. Glaciers and snow fields are melting more rapidly up north. Everything around me is green, green, green as plants celebrate the abundance of moisture.
The meandering river in this monoprint collage is inspired by the many rivers around me that carve and re-carve their path. The Wabash River to the west of me actually changed its course so significantly that it greatly affected residents in both Illinois and Indiana. Few things have this kind of power to effect change on our landscape so dramatically.
Kind of like some life circumstances…
The pictures you take on vacation say a great deal about you. What are you interested in? What do you want to remember? My phone isn’t filled with the traditional sites, but rather with patterns and shapes I want to remember. A recent long weekend trip to Chicago yielded no “Bean” pictures; instead I focused my lens on patterns…
The Lurie Garden — part of Millenium Park — were ALIVE in late June. Plants of all sorts tried to fulfill their biological imperative by attracting insects of all types. Some species of blackbird was very offended by volunteers working nearby.
Buildings are just big mirrors
I did take a few photos of the many skyscrapers in Chicago. But here too, I’m not looking at a skyline, but rather how the buildings reflect the sky.
Images of the strange and obscure
I always have a few pictures that are purely for me to remember something unusual. The above leaf is from a plant in the Lincoln Park Conservatory. I have spent a great deal of time looking at leaf cells and the mathematical explanations for their formations. This is one I have never seem before. It looks less like a leaf, and more like a weaving pattern or WWII code. Sadly I forgot to take an image of its identification tag, so I may never know.
My vacation images tell me that besides being fascinated with all things pattern, I also want to see the commonalities that exist within nature. (It also says that I take abysmal selfies and don’t like to be in crowded places.)
What do YOU take pictures of?