by Susan Lobb Porter | Art |
I went garbage picking tonight. Dug through the kitchen trash (eeww eeww double eeww). Earlier in the day I reacted like a normal person when confronted by Sophie’s latest treasure–an outgrown lizard skin tucked between the sofa cushions…I mean, really… I picked it up with a paper towel because I was not going to touch it with my precious hands and then I tossed it without a second thought.
Before we go any farther, I need to inform you of the correct prononciation of ‘lizard’. It’s ‘yee-zard’. Okay? From one of my kids, a long time ago. It’s a mom thing.
Now, back to the story.
Sometime after dinner I had an artistic AHA! moment. Or, in Homer Simpson speak, “D’oh!” Lizard skin! Mixed media! WAX!!! Mental whack upside the head. Hense the trash picking. By this time it was all the way on the bottom. With lots of disgusting things on top. But I got ’em…with my bare precious hands.
Now I’ve got to figure out the best way to wax him. I’ll experiment and let you know. If you care.
Meanwhile, here’s what I did in the studio today. I went down there fully intending to clean but…oh well, another day. These were begun earlier, each one has multiple, multiple layers. Are they done yet? No, there’s always some tweaking. The photos aren’t the best but you get the general idea.
This one is about 12 X 16 I’m thinking it wants one more coat of natural beeswax to tone down the blue. But maybe not. Have to live with it first. It’s on a plaster base over a cradled board. Lots of texture in the base.
This one is 6X6. Has multiple layers of crumpled paper, tissue paper, gold leaf, wax. Oh, and oil paint.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Family, Kids |
“It took me four years to paint like Raphael but a lifetime to paint like a child.” Pablo Picasso
I spent my early art career years as an illustrator, a time when I could render anything with near photographic precision. When my kids were little I moved on to portraits, mostly because I loved painting their beautiful little faces.
But I didn’t love painting other people’s faces, that was work. Inner Critic weighed heavy on my shoulder. If you’re not familiar with Inner Critic then stop reading this right now and go make something spectacular–because there’s nothing stopping you. Really. Go away now. Shoo!
But, if you’re like any number of creatives and have this weight on your shoulder, this little voice in your head, this invisible something bitch-slapping your ego whenever you walk in the studio–then read on.
Because Ingrid has something to say.
Ingrid is my niece–okay, my great niece, but that makes me sound old. And I’m not old.
Ingrid is a hunter of monkeys. And a discoverer of unicorns. A child who sees the world, well…through a child’s eyes. With no apologies.
She’s three years old and you can learn something from her. The painting up above? That’s Rapunzel. With pink hair. Ingrid made this right around her third birthday. Which blows me away because not only does she have all the facial features–including ears–she’s got them pretty much where they’re supposed to be.
But where are the arms? WHO CARES? Ingrid KNOWS she forgot them. She pointed that out herself and said she would add them after her nap.
After her nap. The wisdom of the universe condensed to three little words.
Which shows this child has her priorities straight.
I’m going to have a chat with Inner Critic today. Maybe bribe her with some chocolate. Or zonk her out with a meditation. Or just tell her to go to hell. Then I’m going down to the studio and I’m going to paint. Not going to think about it. Not going to analyze it. Just going to heat up some wax, tear up some paper and HAVE FUN.
And when I’m done, maybe I’ll take a nap.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art |
Studio day! Yay! All day in the studio!!! Pinch me pinch me pinch me–I can’t believe I got to make art ALL DAY–except for the part of the day when I was loading up at the feed store and then back here unloading a truckload of hay. All by myself. But the rest of the day, well, most of the rest of the day… I WAS IN THE STUDIO–
Burning, torching, scorching, playing with fire. Literally. Experimenting with some new (to me) techniques. I love love love trying new stuff. Allowing myself to make mistakes…which is a good thing since I make them regularly. And often.
Some samples from today–but first the disclaimer:
- That picture up above–that’s just part of my wax counter. No burning was done in that room.
- I did NOT burn anything down. Like a building. Or the mountain.
- I
used proper ventilation had all the fans going, blowing out.
- And I wore a respirator. Which proves I value self-preservation over vanity.
- Yes. I HAD A PLAN. I didn’t just go in there with a torch and start firing away. I had a book, “Encaustic Mixed Media” by Patricia Baldwin Seggebruch. I read it (looked at the pictures) and then I started firing away. Sorta knowing where I was going. Art by the seat of my pants.
So this is a closeup of some texture attained by burning wood glue. It was on a cradled board and there was plaster involved. Looks like there was some green paint too. But that unfortunate lapse of judgement came after the fact. It will go away.
Reminds me of a toasted marshmallow. Haven’t had one of those in years. I had a two part marshmallow technique. Stick it in the flames. Burn it to a crisp. Eat the charred part then toast the sticky wet inner part to a nice bubbly brown.
But no mistaking this for a marshmallow, especially after I added some more plaster, leaving the texture alone. Can’t do any more until tomorrow so the plaster can dry. Right now I’m thinking I’ll sand the plaster smooth and sand off the paint as well. But who knows what I’ll do when the time comes.
It’s butt ugly right now but, like all of us, it has potential. I’ll post a photo when it’s finished.
The second piece I did was the same technique sans plaster. Just glue and wood, fire and wax. And a few beads.This one might be done, might not. I’ll live with it and decide later.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Process |
See those three guys to the right, the birds? True confession: I go through stages where I use that image a lot. Three fat little birds, always blue, tweeting and twittering throughout my work in a non-social networking sort of way.
That particular painting has been hanging on my studio wall (ok, pinned to the studio wall) for ages. I’ve never been moved to move ’em out.
Earlier this summer I decided to paint them again, this time on plaster. I made a cradled board roughly the same size, coated it with plaster and painted the birds.
The end result was flat as day old beer. Wasn’t worth keeping. Wasn’t even worth photographing.
They had to…go away. But I wasn’t giving up that board without a fight. So I sanded it. Gave it a base coat of dark blue to bring out the cracks. Oh, and by the way, when working on plaster I prefer to use the cheap craft acrylics. Doesn’t have much binder and the plaster soaks it up, giving everything a chalky appearance whereas the good stuff just sits on the surface like plastic. And they’re so cheap you can buy armloads, truckloads, for next to nothing.
This is where I realized I’d scratched boxes around each bird. I could’ve filled them in with more plaster but that would’ve added another day for drying and I didn’t want to wait. And I would lose the cracks.
Warning: The next couple of photographs are out of focus. Squint. You’ll be fine.
I added some color as an undercoat. Don’t ask me how I choose color, I just do. And I guess this would be an over-undercoat since there was already a (mostly) blue base.
Toned it down with more paint to even things out. Sanded just a bit to bring out the under-colors. The texture is coming through and I’m happy with what’s happening.
I scratched some marks and filled them in with contrasting paint. Then I threw in some dots because I like dots. This is what it looked like before wax.
And this is what it looked like after. I incised into the wax, rubbed oil color into the scratches. Rub. Wipe. Rub. Wipe. Working this way is hands on down ‘n dirty.
You can see more of my plaster and wax work here.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Beloved Beasties, Ponies |
This is Lana Mama Horse. AKA Boss mare. She’s thirty-one which in horse years is the equalivant of, oh…I dunno, maybe damn near dead. She’s in pretty good shape for an old lady. Doesn’t have to do much these days but eat and hang out with her pony peeps. Pin back her ears, shake her head and boss ’em around when the mood strikes.
Oh, and indulge my artistic tendencies and let me draw on her dusty ass from time to time. Like this.
And this:
Horseback Writing. Rump Doodles. Rural Graffiti. Whatever you want to call it, it’s leaving my mark on a horse’s ass.
Technical details for you arty types: Substrate, pony butt. Tools: Pointer finger (left hand). Medium: Dust. Archival rating: Less than 10 minutes.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Family, Life, Parents |
I lost Mama this past spring. Actually, I used to lose her a lot, usually in the grocery store. It’s amazing how someone who moved at the speed of shuffle could disappear–poof–just like that. I would go back and forth, back and forth, backandforth until I was nearly crazy, searching and checking every aisle and she would always be one end-cap out of sight. Just one. Meanwhile grocery disaster was occurring in my cart. Melting,wilting, bacterial breeding disaster.
But this post isn’t about misplacing Mama in the local IGA. And it’s not about food safety either. It’s about losing her one last time. Losing her to The Candy-man.
He came when she was dying. At that point in her transition when she had one foot in both worlds. He stood on the far side of her bed and offered her candy. Or so Mama said. She was the only one who could see him. Was this her guide to the other side? Jesus? Or maybe I was witnessing the origin of the old adage don’t take candy from strangers.
He came bringing Tootsie Rolls.
Tootsie Rolls? Not my idea of heaven-bait. I told her not to rush in to this candy offer. Hold out for the good stuff. Go for the yummy rich melt-in-your-mouth dark chocolate. The stuff to die for.
But don’t cross over for a Tootsie Roll. I mean, really…
And I told him the same thing. My Mama don’t come cheap. If he wanted her, he had to up the ante. Trick or Treat candy was low-ball. She wasn’t going anywhere for anything under 72% dark, 85% even better. I had been her advocate and protector for the last seven years, I wasn’t going to fail her now.
A couple days later, two weeks shy of her ninety-sixth birthday, she was gone. She died in her home, the cottage she’d rented from me the last seven years of her life, my former studio, remodeled and re-purposed as the place my mother could live out the rest of her days. We were all with her when her time came–the family, her priest and who knows, maybe even the Candy-Man.
After the craziness, the cleaning, the sorting, the giving away…the sisters returning to their homes on the other side of the country, the other side of the world, Mr. Spouse and I sat down to discuss the cottage. He wanted to rent it out. I wanted to reclaim my studio.
But for seven years I hadn’t done much in the way of making art. I’d given up my galleries and shows and hunkered down taking care of Mama. And doing my day job, teaching. Why did I need a studio?
Because I have dreams, that’s why….
We compromised, agreed on a year trial. See if I get back in the groove of making art as a living. Or not.
The first two months I did nothing. Didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what my artistic voice was anymore. More than once I thought Mr. Spouse might be right, maybe we should just rent the place out. Before I gave up I signed up for an on-line class, Plaster Studio Workshop with Judy Wise and Stephanie Lee. You can get their book here. Matter of fact, buy two. Or three. ‘Cause it’s that good. (You’re welcome, ladies) And that’s all it took, seriously, all it took to spin me around and get the art mojo going again. To start waking up HAPPY. To get my hands dirty and make a creative mess and pull paintings from the center of my soul like I have never, EVER painted before.
I miss Mama, oh, how I miss her. But it’s okay, y’know because I KNOW whatever world she’s in now there’s got to be chocolate. No way she would’ve gone if there wasn’t.
And I’m okay with that.
There’s chocolate in Studio Grande as well, but most of all, there’s PASSION. And I’m definitely okay with that.
