The one artmaking tool I can’t live without

I think color is tricky. Working through the color issues on this quilt-in-progress, I reached (as usual) for my indispensable color wheel.

Some tools are just studio-must-haves. For me, it’s my color wheel. I take no credit at all for its design. The process of creating it was described and assigned to me in 2010 when I was taking an oil painting class at DeLand’s Museum of Art from artist Jennifer Houdeshell.

Building it was tedious. It was time consuming. It was humbling. It was like my mother making me eat peas. I knew it was good for me. I thought it would never be done. But, it’s the only way I learned about color and I return to it again and again.

Despite my wonderful teacher’s best efforts, I just did not take to oil painting. At. All. So I did all the classwork in acrylics. Your color wheel should be created from the kind of paint and the brand name that you use.

If you use a less detailed wheel, or if you use a purchased one and have never mixed your own, I cannot say enough about how much you will learn from this exercise. I use a limited palette of basic acrylic paints for my artmaking: cadmium yellow medium, two blues (cerulean and phthalo deep), two reds (alizarin crimson and cadmium red), burnt umber, raw sienna, black and white. And I mix everything from these. My color wheel provides a roadmap for 228 colors.

My color wheel is 16” diameter on a rigid canvas board. It consists of an inner circle and six concentric rings. I drew the rings with a pencil and compass.  It begins with a twelve-color sliced pie in the middle circle. Everything is built from those base colors.

In the 12-color middle: three primary colors (red-yellow-blue) plus three in-between secondary mixes of the primary and the one next to it.  For red and yellow, for example, in between there are three mixes of orange: mostly-red-with-some-yellow, an orange that’s half-red- half-yellow,  and mostly-yellow-with-some-red.

Concentric circle #1: The hue mixed with white, 3 tints per hue. So, 12 colors x 3 = 36 blocks to create.

Concentric circle #2: The hue mixed with black, 3 shades per hue. Again, 12 hues x 3 shades = 36 blocks.

Concentric circle #3: The hue mixed with its complement, 3 versions. Twelve hues x 3 mixes = 36 blocks.

Concentric circle #4: The hue mixed with its complement plus white, 3 versions. Twelve hues x 3 mixes = 36 blocks. (You will now be in the realm of irresistible colors!)

Concentric circle #5: The hue mixed with raw sienna, 3 mixes per hue. Twelve hues x 3 mixes = 36 blocks.

Concentric circle #6: The hue mixed with raw umber, 3 mixes per hue. Twelve hues x 3 mixes = 36 blocks.

I have especially loved discovering luscious world of greys: yellow-greys, blue-greys, violet greys. Seeing the color relationships is just invaluable.

I love mixing and discovering colors. My teacher – of course – was right. Just like Mom. My favorite vegetable now… peas!

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PS - The quilt in the picture is the one I wrote about in my last post: the collapsed house with the tree growing through. It's progressing. More next time.

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Sketching... where it begins

Where it begins… with the sketch. (This is not the very very beginning of a work. The ideas have taken shape in times of thinking, rememberingand – I believe – in dreams.) But getting images on paper, roughly composed, is the beginning of the actual making. Once I have this much on paper, I can begin to feel what palette I want, what papers and fabrics to gather or create. This is the scaffolding.

FLYING INTO THE UNKNOWN

What would this feel like? This must be a dream. Or an imagining. Something is amiss. What does it mean when a young girl is flying through an unknown space—untethered, askew—a wingwalker? It could be an adventure. They sky is an inviting aqua. The clouds are liquid. But she seems very small and innocent up there. When I created this work, I was thinking about escape, and the dangers entailed in the process. Created in three panels, it reads like a story board. In the first panel, far below the girl and the plane, there lurks a giant sea creature. (It’s designed from images I researched of a prehistoric sea dweller.) The suggestion of windows creates a sense of looking inside a space. This is about inner experience. When works are story-telling images, it’s my hope that there’s an interaction between the experience of the viewer and what I’ve created in the work itself. I invite you to bring your own memories, fears and experiences and respond to this dream.

See the whole work in the Girl's Journey Gallery - HERE

Haiku Friday... Dreams Rearranged

Haiku Friday – A dream-like portal from my textile collage “Now Let the Night Be.” Do some exploring. Happy weekend.

Landscapes of Dreams

Earlier this year I worked my way through a series combining landscapes with a dream-journey quality. I returned to my sketchbook frequently, seeing what ideas reappeared over time and how they changed. And I took my well-worn copy of Robert Frost poems with me on the way. I love his attention to observed detail, and apparent surface simplicity layered over well-considered ideas. “Now Let the Night Be,” was created from this process.

The title “Now let the Night Be” is a line from one of Robert Frost’s poems. His simple iambic rhythms evoke a sense of time and process. It helps me to create when I feed my soul with words from authors and poets who stir up thoughts. I printed and collaged sheer fabrics to create a misty, dream-like landscape.  Tree forms are both solid and ethereal. The arch suggests an invitation to enter, or a journey about to begin. Opaque printed muslin pieces with stitched texture and heavy rock forms provide a grounding for the dream.

TBT – Fledgling: It’s Time to…

I remember sitting on the porch on a vacation in Maine, watching birds on a wire across the street. Their simple shape, so easily identifiable. And I envisioned this art quilt all at once at that moment. What if someone other than a bird was on the wire? What kind of story would that tell? Since beginning my artmaking with printing techniques and fabric collage in 2010, I have incorporated an image of a little girl in various pieces. I am emotionally travelling  her journey. And I have also printed birds. Here, they come together. I transferred the photographic image of the nest onto fabric and did a lot of detailed stitching to enhance its texture. But, in the space around the girl there is little detail. She is out there on her own. Are the birds observers? Messengers?

It’s time to fly, little girl.

Imagining the In-Between Stages

On every journey, there are in-between-stages…

Two books I just finished reading dealt with young people who are in-between, drifting, looking for meaning and the next step. I am drawn to the feeling of being unsettled. Something is changing. Circumstances are new. There are myriad possible answers to the question, “What happens next?” Have you felt this way? I have. As a child I did not like for things to be unsettled. The experience is the source of a recent work “Neither Here nor There.”

I like this girl. I find myself wondering about her—where she has been, what she is feeling. I want the loose drawing style to let her speak to many possible stages. She is not one particular girl. She is the heart of all girls’ journeys. Including the stages in-between.

 (See this work on my web site  HERE  )