Second Winds

Have been working toward many second winds
lately, especially since it has finally been over
40 degrees and I have started to run again. Is
there any better feeling than a second wind when
running? Well, besides eating the second bowl
of icecream after running. Who would have thought
that Jack Sparrow (you know, the pirate) would
be a good running companion? When I don't feel
like running, or doing housework, or grading
student work lately, I think about this:
"The problem is not the problem. The
problem is your attitude about the problem."
Captain Jack Sparrow

Getting a second wind is exhilarating, but not
always predictable. Teaching, parenting, and
building a house require second, third, and fourth
winds. They will come, usually not as soon I
want, but isn't that what makes them so
exhilarating?

Feeling a bit of a second wind with my art lately
too. The work More or Less, below, was sent
off today to be in the permanent collection of
Finlandia University Art Gallery in Hancock,
Michigan. It will be in a group exhibit this June
during FinnFest USA 2013.

Asking for Help. Step 3: know who to ask

A month ago I had a few posts about
asking for help, soon after the revelation
that I am asking-for-help-impaired.

Step 1: admit it, everyone needs help
Step 2: realize that asking is connecting
Step 3: practice asking for both small & big things
(Expect and respect that some people will decline,
nothing personal. Also, remember how you like
to help others. Most people don't mind and often
are honored.)

Improving involves both learning to ask
many people for the small things, because
you just never know, and knowing who to
ask for the big, important things. Still
working on asking many people and not
worrying so much about bothering them.
But not just anyone can assist me on a big
project like my current one, and I found
her! Meet Trish.

Trish is helping me create a few bowl
forms out of sewing pattern paper, mod
podge, gel medium, etc. When done I will
inscribe the poems of LouAnn Shepard
Muhm on the inside of them. Read more
about our incantation bowl collaboration
here and on LouAnn's site here.

Trish jumped right in and is keeping me
company too, since my tolerance for
repetition is incredibly low.

That feeling of Asymmetry

It has been two months since the surgery that
removed half of my thyroid and a tumor. I am
feeling grateful... and asymmetrical. Not sure
how to explain this asymmetrical feeling, but
it must be a sense of knowing something that
was once there is now gone. I know, I know.
I am still healing, be patient.


Asymmetry (2013), 9"x12" on paper
NYC subway, Scissors, thyroid region drawing,
My running path near home in green
(Made during a Commit2Create online class
with Kari Maxwell, karimaxwell.blogspot.com)

Normally, I am grateful for more daylight and have
a hard time tolerating the complaints about weather
from other Minnesotans this time of year; it is their
attitudes that make this time of year more unbearable.
But these historic low temperatures and snowfalls are
creating another sense of asymmetry. There are
supposed to be glimpses of Spring by now. I know it
should be there, and expect mud when I step down.
Where are the budding leaves and light-weight
jackets? When the green grass attempts to grow
lately, another 3" of snow will cover and suffocate it.
I know, I know. Patience, young Skywalker, patience.
 

Reaching (2013), 9x7"
felt, embroidery thread, acrylic paint
(Made during a Commit2Create online class
with Kari Maxwell, karimaxwell.blogspot.com)

When I explain asymmetrical balance to my
students, I say, "To achieve it you can not depend
on a symmetrical, predictable system. It is hard to
define when an asymmetrical work is done, except
that it feels balanced and complete...You aren't
done yet. Persist, but try to enjoy the process
without forcing it."

Like most of life, this feeling of asymmetry
requires tolerance of uncertainty. Healing and the
weather are unpredictable, asymmetrical. While
doctors have statistics and weathermen have fore-
casts, artists and teachers know better. We have
the present, and will be slogging through the mud
and wishing for Summer soon enough.

After 5 years, "i am water" is home

After its five year tour through 14 states, I unpacked 

my 2-panel, painted collage i am water last night. Is 

it possible to be envious of a well-traveled artwork? 

I did accompany this work to New York during my

2007 solo exhibit at the SOHO20 Gallery in

Chelsea, but since then it has been touring with the

group exhibit The Veil:Visible & Invisible

Spaces to college campuses all over the United

States.

In 2010, I got to view the veil exhibit when it was

at California State Dominguez Hills near L.A.,

just before it was taken down. During that 2010

trip, I repaired the fragile sewing pattern paper

edges of the work, so it could endure three more

years of travel. It held up well since then, much to

my relief and that of the curator, Jennifer Heath.

Unrolling the 2-panel painted collage last night, above.
It is still in great condition, despite being mainly
made of sewing pattern paper.

Me and the poet, LouAnn Shepard Muhm
Just after this 2007 exhibit at Finlandia University
in Hancock, Michigan, i am water
began its five year journey.

i am water has the words of my poet

friend, LouAnn Shepard Muhm, block

printed upon it. The two panels read

like this:

i am smoke                   when i can be

more often i am water 

in the shape of               my container

The Veil: Visible and Invisible Spaces press release:
The Veil: Visible and Invisible Spaces is an exhibition,
curated by Jennifer Heath, of thirty-six works of art,
each of which considers The Veil, its many manifestations
and interpretations and puts veils and veiling into context.

Visible and Invisible Spaces intends to engage received
wisdom about the veil - particularly current clichés and
stereotypes about Islamic practices - and to reflect on
the great ubiquity, importance and profundity of the
veil throughout human history and imagination. Visible
and Invisible Spaces asks artists to investigate the veil in
its broadest contexts. The exhibition will be divided into
three categories to be interpreted widely: The Sacred
Veil, The Sensuous Veil , and The Sociopolitical Veil.
Visible and Invisible Spaces, however, is not a
documentary exhibition.

5 Years Later

I received a large package via Fed Ex yesterday.
Mini-Ambiotic, the sculpture that has been traveling
since 2008 in the group exhibit Reimagining
Distaff Toolkit, is home. The works of Betye and
Alison Saar were also in this exhibit, two artists I
admire.


Mini-Ambiotic in its crate, arrived safely
home after 5 years of touring. The
sculpture is made out of sewing pattern
paper, wire, beeswax, and a vintage
children's ironing board.

The press release for the exhibit:
Each work of art in Reimagining the Distaff Toolkit
features a tool that was important for women's domestic
labor from the 18th century through World War II. The
artists have placed objects such as a dressmaker’s
figure, pots, pans, baskets, rolling pins, darning eggs
and rug-beaters at the center of their works. One
piece incorporates a 19th-century distaff, which was
used to hold wool during spinning. Over time, the
word "distaff" came to refer to matters and objects
relevant to the domestic or women’s sphere, and then,
to women, generally.

Reimagining the Distaff Toolkit is curated by Dr.
Rickie Solinger, historian, curator and author. The
approximately thirty-five pieces of art in this exhibition
are on loan from contemporary artists representing
all geographic regions of the country.


Five years ago, before I sent out
Mini-Ambiotic, I took this photo of
my daughters next to it. They
have changed and grown so much
since then.

I really didn't have a '5 Year Plan' five years
ago, but as soon as this package arrived I had
a flood of sentimental gratitude. Five years ago
was about the time I stopped making so many
plans, started this blog, and, perhaps, really
started embracing the present.

Asking for Help. Step two: watch this video

"Through the very act of asking people, I connected with

 them. And when you connect with them, people want to 

help you. It’s kind of counterintuitive for a lot of artists--
they don't want to ask for things. It’s not easy to ask…

Asking makes you vulnerable... The perfect tools aren't 

going to help us if we can't face each other and 

give and receive fearlessly, but more important, 

to ask without shame." Amanda Palmer

There is more here from her TED presentation:
http://www.ted.com/talks/amanda_palmer_the_art_of_asking.html

Difficulties asking for help? Step one: admit it.

How did she do that? Mrs. Besonen you have 

yoda drawing hands. I wave my magic (yet creepy)
hand and respond, "Patience, young Skywalker,
patience." I am an art teacher; I help people deal
with insecurities and uncertainty.
 

Coiled, Oil Painting Study
created when demonstrating
to my High School Painting students

Yes, I help people for a living, but I have to admit
I am horrible at asking for help. And that, I have
decided, is not a good example to my own daughters
or my students. When a recent surgery left me flat on
my back, dehydrated, in pain and whimpering like
a baby, it hit me. Even when I am in this state, I 
still don't want to ask for help. That is messed up,
and probably based on some lingering perfectionism
and a weird desire for people to read my mind and
help without being asked.

If being laid up and watching American Pickers on
the History channel has taught me anything, JUST
ASK. “People ask, ‘How did you get that?’
I asked.” Mike Wolfe, American Picker.

Here are some links to recent research about
what I call asking-for-help-impaired.
http://bps-research-digest.blogspot.com/2012/12/benevolent-sexism-puts-women-off-asking.html
http://www.gsb.stanford.edu/news/research/flynn_ask.html
https://blogs.uchicago.edu/uei/learning/why_asking_for_help_is_a_neces.shtml
http://realsecretblog.blogspot.com/2011/04/asking-for-help-its-easier-than-you.html

Embracing Change and Chance

Last Thursday, the surgeon explained that the
tumor-free right side of my thyroid hasn't been
functioning well and is declining fast. He said that
with the new thyroid medication, the right side of
the thyroid will slowly shrivel up and not function
at all.

Flashback. July 2003, I wrap fresh pears in copper
wire, repeatedly pierce them with a pencil point,
and then place them in the hot summer sun on a
studio roof at the Minneapolis College of Art and
Design. It takes only a few days, and the pears are
shriveled and transformed. (A few weeks later I find
out that I am expecting our second child.)

Wrapped Pear,2003, aka Thyroid Lobe in a Cage

.
.
.


.
In 2003 I wrote, "Exposing the copper wire
wrapped pears to the forces of nature proved to
be a visceral process of embracing change and
chance... Later, when I had these on display, it
was interesting how people would first cringe,
then move closer with curiosity."

I realize now that the sun-dried pear remains
have an eerie similarity to the texture and form
of a thyroid lobe, especially one in the early
process of shriveling up.

Gratefully Benign, and other incision hits

The diagnosis is benign! Unlike a year ago, I am more
apt to believe it since my entire left thyroid lobe and
the walnut-sized tumor that had made its home in the
left thyroid are gone. Always the skeptic, I wish I could
have seen what they removed. Yet, since I almost fainted
when I saw my neck incision in the mirror, it is best to
believe them. Once the pain subsides and thyroid levels
are in check, I am going to be just fine--taking this
time to rest, heal and be gratefully benign.

A totally unexpected response to all of this has been
flashbacks of February 2001, when our first daughter
was born. The parallels to my c-section 12 years ago are
uncanny: the wide horizontal incision, followed by the
inevitable scarring, the pain when using surrounding
muscles, doctors telling me how easy the recovery
should be--pffffft, my irrational rants in the recovery
room (those nurses have stories), Dan by my side helping
me walk, returning home to a yard piled with snow,
feeling grateful...  This time though, our oldest daughter
 is 12, our youngest is 8 and they are helping take care
of me.

Pre-surgery sketch & fun facts

 

Blind contour drawing of a thryoid, January, 2013


I am a week away from having at least half of my thyroid
removed. Possibly the entire thing, depending what is
found in the somewhat large tumor.

Thyroids are odd glands. Some 'fun' thyroid facts:

• The word thyroid is derived from the Greek word for shield, thureos. The Greeks and Romans originally used the word thureos for oblong-shaped doors. Since their shields were shaped like these doors, shields were also called thureos.
• I did not read anything about actual doors being used as shields, but I have a story imagined about cartoon-y Greeks protecting themselves by tearing off their back doors and rushing toward bewildered intruders. 
• The thyroid is composed of two oblong tear-drop forms connected by an isthmus, which all curve around the throat, just under the larynx. The form of the thyroid is usually referred to as 'amorphous', since it is difficult to describe and a little differently shaped for everyone. FYI, I like the word amorphous, except in the case of biopsy results.
• Like many glands, the thyroid is controlled remotely. The hormones released by the thyroid are controlled by the pituitary gland, and the pituitary gland is controlled by the hypothamulus. Seems inefficient.

Hearing Your Own Pulse

Last night I spent a lot of time on http://www.racart.org/ ,
Rural America Contemporary Art online magazine,
gallery and blog. I have been following RACA since its
beginning. It was born in Mankato, Minnesota just last
fall and has gained great ground in a short time with the
simple tagline "making nowhere into somewhere" and
highlighting quality art and writing rooted in rural
America. This is all so encouraging to me and many
other artists that live and work in rural settings. With
online connections at our fingertips and fields and
woods in our front and backyards, has there ever been
 a better time to be rural?
 
RACA inspired me to write this bio:
 
I am a rural artist. I grew up on a sheep farm in North-
Central Minnesota, left rural life for ten years and
returned fifteen years ago when my suburban boyfriend
(now husband) proposed and then shocked me by
wanting to live in the middle of nowhere Minnesota,
yet in the center of everything I truly need.

I teach art to brilliant middle and high schoolers in a
small school, about 40 students per grade level. I am
a mom to two creative young girls, and that suburban
boy has transformed into quite a renaissance man. I
make art in the back of my classroom, in our century-
old farmhouse kitchen, outside in the summer, and
sometimes in the winter, when suffering from light
deprivation, I drag my work into the woods, suspend it
from trees and document how the elements deteriorate
it, as I slowly come back to life.
 
What many urban and suburbanites might not
understand is that despite my complaints of Target
being over 50 miles away or my embarrassment over
our perpetually dirt-road-crusted car, we really did
choose this rural life. We are not stuck here, peering
into the glass ball and wishing to be hip urban artists,
although we love to visit our urban friends. We choose
this life of being less particular about some things,
and more patient about others.

Having once belonged to an artists' cooperative in
Chelsea, Manhattan and flying to New York a couple
times a year, I had my ear on the pulse of the art world.
It was a great experience, but when I stepped away
from that artist cooperative six years ago, I began to
more clearly hear my own pulse and voice. Perhaps it
comes with age no matter where you are, but truly
listening to my own pulse means that I am no longer 
drowning it out with the static of constantly seeking far-
away muses. I know what I am missing out on, and it
can wait so that I don’t have to miss out on nearby
subtleties--the everyday, heart-twinging beauty that
quietly begs to be heard.

Assurances

Sometimes, as artists, we are more productive during or right

after difficult times in our lives. And then, we wonder. Would I be

an artist without distress and discomfort? Does drama follow me?

But the truth is that difficulties will come, and we all need ways to

survive and deal with them. As artists, we have this additional

language that emerges from the subconscious to help ourselves 

and others. My current project is taking on a new direction with 

recent diagnoses of cancer among friends, and needing 

reassurances of safety after a horrific school shooting.

Below is a sneak peek at my current project, a collaboration with

poet LouAnn Shepard Muhm. My job is to create rather large

translucent bowls out of sewing pattern tissue paper and various

hardening agents--still experimenting. LouAnn's is to write poems

against fears, assurances that our fears will not win. Next, I will

paint a poem and an image inside of each bowl.

This project is being partially funded by a
Minnesota State Arts Board grant,
and is inspired by ancient incantation bowls.

Ewe Dreaming?

Seemed to start a new direction in my painting last week

with "Morning Dreaming", and it is as if I got into

the head of the ewe in "Ewe in the Morning". 

Morning Dream, 2012
acrylic painting, 24" x 30"



Ewe in the Morning, 2012
acrylic painting, 24" x 30"

Recent acrylic painting, 24" x 30"

What are your best memories of Summer?

Summer smells, sounds, colors & light,
textures, and tastes bring back so many
childhood memories. The sweet smell of
alfalfa was always such a contrast to the
hundreds of raw scratches on my legs
after a day of making hay bales. And who
could ever forget the leg-sting and then
exhileration of jumping into the cool lake
after a sweaty day of throwing bales that
each weighed more than me?
.
Now that Summer break is coming to an
end, I want to post these two recent paint-
ings.

Rooted, 2012
two canvases, 12" x 30" each
acrylic on canvas

Rested, 2012
12" x "30", acrylic on canvas

Old Ewe, New Dance Tricks

Maybe this ewe can learn some new tricks.
My experience last weekend in Liz Sivertson's
painting workshop at the Grand Marais Art Colony
was fabulous. I rarely come home from a workshop
with truly useful nuggets.
.
NUGGET 1. Stand up, stand back, and don't get
too picky too soon. The process of painting is a
lot like a dance. I usually prefer to stand up while
painting, but I think I may be learning how to relax
and enjoy the big brushstrokes without tensing up
and forcing the detail to happen too soon. As Liz
said, "It stops holding together if you focus on the
details too soon."
.
NUGGET 2. As you paint, jump back and forth
between the negative and positive space. The
background and the subjects define each other.
Painting often forms from this push/pull process
of the positive and the negative. Sculpt away at
each.

12" x 30", acrylic on canvas
(not titled yet)

NUGGET 3. Memories are powerful painting tools.
Liz Sivertson explained how having objects, smells,
sounds, textures or tastes that she associates with
certain memories in her studio aide as references
when painting, much more useful than photographs.
.
Although I didn't have memory-inducing objects as I
painted this alert lamb (below), it was inspired by my
memories of watching childhood lambs grow. The
bony lamb legs formed, and then I was taken back
because it was as if my 11-year-old daughter was
peering at me--such innocence and curious energy.
Little does the lamb know that it is next in line for its
tail to get snipped off. Oh, why do I shatter sweet
moments like that?

12" x 30", acrylic on canvas
(not titled yet)

Liz Sivertson's Paintings: http://www.sivertson.com/artist.php?id=21&catID=6
Grand Marais Art Colony Workshops: http://www.grandmaraisartcolony.org/workshops.cfm

Seeing Red

The agony and the ecstasy of Red. I have a love-hate relationship
with this color. Last fall, I attempted to paint with Red, and ended
up with what looked like a pink carnation massacre. But now, I
think I may be ready for Red. It is pretty widely reported by many
studies that people respond strongly to Red with increased heart-
rate, increased speed & strength, as well as increased anxiety
or exuberance. Responses vary with color intensity levels, the
amount of the color, as well as the individual.
.
While digging for more facts about the color Red, I am getting
both history and science lessons.

• According to the PNAS (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences), because of its high visibility, Red has been the color named first most often by civilizations as they developed words.
• Red has the longest wavelength that can be seen by the naked eye, fatiguing and irritating if viewed for too long, yet energizing in small amounts.
• Recently Starbucks made the news with their decision to phase out 'natural cochineal extract' (crushed beetle blood) as the Red dye in their strawberry drinks and baked goods.
• According to Victoria Finlay, author of Color: A natural history of the palette, natural cochineal extract has been used for centuries to make Red dye, still used in Cherry Coke (additive E120) as well as in cosmetics, food, beverages and fabric dyes. Cochineal extract of the Americas is a much more intense Red than that of its European relative, the Polish Cochineal.
• Unlike hummingbirds who can only really see Reds, most insects cannot see Red.

Detail of recent painting

Recent painting, 24" x 36", acrylic on canvas

6 Ways to Make Art with Abandon

Since October 2011, I have been painting like a wild woman.
There have been some breaks, since I do teach full-time
and don't want to ignore my family--but this has been
an incredibly productive time. Now I am reflecting on
this time and hoping to continue these productive habits.

6 WAYS I'VE LEARNED TO PAINT WITH ABANDON

1. DISTRACT & CELEBRATE... OR GET A TUMOR.
Well, don't go out and get one. But that is what got me
started in October. A tumor was found, and I waited 5
weeks through many tests to find out if it was cancerous.
In the meantime, I painted as a DISTRACTION from
the stress and didn't over-think it. It was medicine for
anxiety, but after I found out that I don't have cancer,
painting became a CELEBRATION that I get to live.
Turn the lights down, music up and make art.

2. FOLLOW THOSE FASCINATIONS, the ones
that your adult mind says are silly, childish, cliché or over-
done. They continue to be fascinations for good reasons.
Your fascinations are what keep showing up in doodles or
day dreams, documentaries you can’t help but watch,
websites and books you are drawn to, what you love to
photograph, what you talk and think about. Fascinations
are sweet, delicious carrots that we too often ignore as we
take life too seriously and do what is expected of us. At
some point a few years ago I stopped painting sheep and
pears. Was I tired of explaining to people why I was
fascinated with them? One of the biggest problems with
ignoring our HEALTHY IMPULSES is that we develop
unhealthy, self-destructive kind of habits instead. Also,
keep in mind that current fascinations are the most direct
path to new ones, like my new bird fascination.
Ewe meet bird!

I See You, 2011

.

3. SIMPLIFY THE PROCESS. Okay visionaries,
stop making it so overwhelming. For those of us who
are fortunate and unfortunate enough to have studied art
in college, art-making feels complicated. It does require
higher level thinking, but it is what artists do. And if we
don’t do it, we are not too pleasant to be around. One
way I have simplified the process is enjoying each small
step. One day I will enjoy the simple pleasure of mixing
colors and playing with color schemes. The next day I
will sketch. The next I will use those fabulous colors
that I mixed to combine my sketches into an image that
seems like it is magically appearing on canvas.
SIMPLIFYING anything involves not getting
overwhelmed with the big picture. Progress happens
with breaking it into doable pieces. Most people know
this is the only way that overflowing storage room will
get organized, but it is also the only way that my over-
flowing imagination will be productive.

4. MAKE YOUR OWN IMPERFECT LIGHTNING.
Don’t wait for the lightning bolts to give you ideas or
to shock you into action. Don’t wait for the perfect
conditions or other people to encourage you to make art.
MOVE. Create your own friction, and there will be sparks.
If you have read anything by Twyla Tharp, Julia Cameron,
or David Bayles & Ted Orland (I recommend all of
them), then you have heard the news. The more art you
make, the greater the odds of creating masterpieces. Art
is not about perfection anyway. Most art is about being
vulnerable, imperfect, and communicating something
from our depths. Choose to work WITH ABANDON,
NOT PERFECTION. Since perfectionism is paralyzing,
it will never help you to be very productive. More is
MORE.

5. TECHNOLOGY IS YOUR FRIEND. Yesterday
I overheard one of my students saying “My phone is my
life!” If you are over 30, you probably have a more tense
relationship with computers, cameras, and at&t
customer service. Remember this. Artists have been
the first to EMBRACE and reinvent technologies through
the ages. And in this age, digital technology is an art tool
as well as a platform for sharing your work. Make it
WORK for you. Sharing my work on this blog and
knowing that it is often viewed by my friends on their
smart-phones keeps me motivated to keep painting and
updating. Also, I have been amazed at how simply taking
digital photos with my smart-phone or camera enhances
the painting process. Analyzing the photos of in-progress
paintings has been an important part of my painting
process for the last six months. And, if I want to try a
color in a painting without wasting paint? Thank you
Photoshop!

6. TIME IS ON YOUR SIDE. You know how those
scary fitness people tell you that lack of time is not a
good excuse to skip exercise? WELL, that is as true for
art-making. Yes, art-making is time-intensive, and no one
likes to be interrupted, but daily 30 minute spurts do
wonders to keep enthusiasm for life and art-making alive.
I discovered this in November. My life was busy, but one
or two 30 minute painting spurts a day led to getting large
canvases done over a week or two. I didn't like getting
interrupted, but the time in between increased the
ANTICIPATION and ENTHUSIASM to continue
painting.

Blank Canvas in May

Since this one is closer to home, I want to make sure that
everyone is invited to the Friday, May 4th, 5-7pm reception
for my shared exhibit with Dawn Rossbach at the Blank
Canvas Gallery, Main Avenue, Park Rapids. (Next to the
new Necce's Italian Ristorante.) Yes, there will be appetizers!

My painting "I See You Too" and five other recent, large
acrylic paintings will be on display May 2-29.

Oh yeah, I also have stickers of my work to share with
anyone who comes to the reception!

Gearing up for this event

http://www.rawartists.org/tbesonen

http://www.rawartists.org/tbesonen

Phase 4 & 5, From hating it to "Did I do that?"

Detail, I See You Too

Phase "almost done"
I See You Too
30" x 48", acrylic on canvas

I got a lot of painting done today, and moved through

a couple phases. Today one of the phases included

wanting to quit many times. The stage when self-

doubt is greatest, and I have all of the typical self-

dialogue. "I hate this. Why do I make art? Why can't

I actually enjoy math and be an engineer? This music

is annoying. Maybe an engineer would like this music.

Or a lawyer. Lawyers dress so nice, and don't usually

have to worry about getting paint on strange places

of all their pants... Ah, no one is forcing you to paint.

In fact, only a few people would notice if you'd stop.

Jerks. Why wouldn't they notice? Oh yeah, they are

busy being engineers and lawyers."

.

It seems like I am teetering on the edge of completely

destroying it and becoming an engineer (impossible)

or a lawyer (maybe) one minute and then somehow it

forms and I witness it taking on a life of its own. Like

Erkel, I say, "Did I do that?" These are the satisfying

days. Because of course I realize I did do that, and

I know it wasn't as easy as I want it to look.

(A special thank you to the engineers and lawyers. Not

sure why I think about you on days like today, but you

help get me through. I do appreciate what you do, 

especially because I can not do it. We are all in this

 together.)

Phase 3, Sheep Eye Anatomy Lesson




A detail of the eye progress yesterday.
Still need to add the lashes and more detail.

  Painting opportunities were pretty slim at the end
of this work week, but appreciating every minute I get--
and concentrated on the eyes of I See You 2 yesterday.

Sheep eye trivia:
Sheep pupils are rectangular, widening vertically
in height with varying light. These pupils allow
expanded peripheral vision to spot predators
sooner.

I See You 2

I am hoping to take daily photos of my current
challenge, a 30"x 48" canvas of a sheep and black
bird that I started yesterday. So far the plan is to use
inverse colors and in the opposite direction as a
smaller version done last November, I see you.


Phase 1, 30" x 48" canvas
(The awkward phase that I don't usually share.)



Since October, I have found the camera to be one

of my best painting tools. I paint a little, then take

photos. These photos help me to step away

from my distorted view in front of the canvas and
decide on the next moves with color and compos-
tion. Also, I can try out new colors and contrast 
on the computer, and not waste paint!

I See You, November 2011
24" x 30"

Hot off the easel



Listening, 2012
acrylic on canvas, 24" x 36"

To make art is to be vulnerable.

There are times when subtly and silence is golden, and

others when it is tense. Times to speak up. Times to stay

silent. I am still learning how to accept and embrace all of
the above, while not second-guessing myself so much. It

will always amaze me how making art is such a great

metaphor for simply living life.

Silence, 2012
acrylic on canvas, 24" x 36"

.

I have never claimed to be a great speaker. I enjoy some

writing, and my art always communicates in a way my words

can not. I suppose if I got more satisfaction from expressing

myself verbally, art wouldn't be as essential. Here lies the

tension in both talking about art and teaching it... I have to dig 

deep when explaining the necessity of making art and putting

yourself out there. I know the necessity of making art in my bones,

but explaining that verbally is especially challenging. I suppose

this is why it is so important for my students and my own children

to see my work as it develops through all of its awkward stages.

If I expect anyone else to take that leap and be a little vulnerable,

then I too have to show some courage. 

Art is not about self-indulgence, like some who dare not make

it would like to think. For me, selling the product of someone else

is so much easier than putting my own work out there. But, as

most of us know, not doing art when you are an artist isn't

a good option either. To make art is to be vulnerable. But then

to truly live, is to be vulnerable--end of story.

Marimekko muses

..
..
..


..
..

This time of year I crave to be bathed in the color and
patterns of Marimekko. For more than 60 years, this design
from Finland has helped us escape tundra-states-of-mind.
.
I speak and read very little Finnish, but somehow the
vintage Marimekko fabric designs (and some of today)
speak to me. Sometimes in whispers, most often in jubilant
yelps, Marimekko designs tell me something about
where my ancestors came from, and always make me
smile.

What I have learned from Marimekko:

• Great design is uplifting.
• "One must stand out from the rest." Armi Ratia
• Don't be afraid of color. Be aware of its power.
• "Tension between simplicity and excitement." Fujiwo Ishimoto
• "My most important mentor: Finnish nature." Vuokko Eskolin-Nurmesniemi
• Tell your story.
• http://us.marimekko.com/unfold/designers

Layered processes

This week I shared some images of my work from over
the last nine years with my students. Also, I dehydrated
this pear andreassembled it to share with them. I was
trying to give them insightinto the creative process, how
ideas are born. Of course, there isn't a formula--but I
will say that for me it is extremely layered. Layers of
memories and experiences. Layers of images and
forms. Layers of ideas, failed attempts, and patience.
(I've learned to save failed attempts, because they
often point to the next step or are useful years later.)

Eight years ago I create a layered pear just like the one
above by dehydrating cross-sections of a pear and then
reassembling it. At the time, I was suffering from
dehydration during pregnancy. Carrying that dehydrated,
layered pear around the house over a few months, I
wondered how it could influence my next step of art-
making. In April 2004, our bundle was born and my
energy was restored. That layered pear led to four years
of creating pear-formed sculptures out of sewing pattern
paper, wire, and beeswax--and a solo show at the
SOHO20 Gallery in NYC. Ideas usually start small,
but they often grow in layers and sometimes get bigger
than I ever thought possible. (And yes, that also pertains
to children, now bigger than I ever thought possible!)

Nest, 2005

Sewing pattern paper, wire, beeswax, basswood log

New York Mills Cultural Center

.

AMBIOTIC, 2007

Sewing pattern paper, wire, beeswax, vintage ironing boards

Soho20 Gallery, New York City

An idea of scale

This shows the size of the painted pears next to an actual pear.
This photo also shows the metallic copper paint that I used in
these paintings.

Symbiotic

Symbiotic, 2012
acrylic on canvas, 24" x 30"

Hopefully this looks more effortless than it was... 

some kids simply require more effort than others. 

Started this three weeks ago and just may have 

come to some kind of a conclusion today.

Maybe recent bizarre dreams are influencing,
and complicating, my work. I am reaching some
kind of territory that is a little uncomfortable--so
that must mean that learning and growing is
happening, right? Or perhaps my jeans are just
too tight.

Veiled & Grounded

Veiled, 2012
acrylic on canvas, 24" x 30"

Grounded, 2012
acrylic on canvas, 24" x 30"

Eva Zeisel's Playful Search for Beauty

The 105 year old designer a few years ago.

part one, ted talk



Ctrl+z. Hello Germany.



Lookout, 2011
acrylic paint, 24" x 30"

I have been painting these 24" x 30" canvases for

two months now. It has been like medicine, although

not without challenges. Art is work and play at the

same time, or maybe it alternates between labor and

dreaming. No matter what, there is a point where I

have to work past the frustrations and vulnerability.

There have been some surprises. The first surprise was

that it took awhile to think like a painter again. Most of

my work has been digital for the last few years. This

shift in thinking was made obvious to me in early

October when I painted over something, and wanted an

instant undo. My brain immediately barked, "Reach for

Ctrl+z!"

Another surprise is how adding my work to this blog

has become such huge motivation to paint more. The

last stage of the creative process is getting it out there,

and I am so thankful to live in this time when sharing my

work on the other side of the world is this easy and

immediate. Which leads me to another surprise, this

blog has an audience in Germany and Russia! I'd love

to hear comments from some of you. I have great

memories of visiting Berlin in 1992 for a college trip.

It seemed like I was a world away then, before the

world-wide-web and the digital revolution.

I See You, 2011
acrylic on canvas, 24"x 30"

Winter Moon





Incubation 2, 2011
acrylic paint, 24" x 30"

Reflections of a grateful artist/teacher

I wrote this essay a year ago, required for my teaching relicensure.
Now, after a challenging year of health-related issues, I am more
grateful than ever for my family, art, students--and Vitamin D!

Teaching Reflection, December 2010
Teaching, mothering, and making art have become tightly woven
threads of who I am, all strengthening and depending upon one another.
Now in my 17th year of teaching, I am thankful for being in this place
of experience, enthusiasm and compassion in the present, and
confidence about the future. More and more I know that the most
important aspects of teaching are to give students the opportunities to
develop their own senses of responsibility and effort, as well as
opportunities for them to think for themselves in new and original
ways.

In 1998, before I was a mother, I wrote, “Every once and awhile I slow
down, and sit with a table of students. I really look into their eyes, and
see the wonder and promise. I am touched by the honor of being a part
of their lives and feel the weight of that responsibility.” Now in 2010,
the difference is the additional patience and compassion that
experience and mothering has given me. Students, after all, are human
and have so many concerns outside of school. Showing that I care
about them and their future is essential to being an effective teacher
today. This concern for students’ futures has also taught me the
importance of empathy without coddling. Students need to take
responsibility for their weaknesses and mistakes, without making
excuses or blaming others. Although it is often the most unpleasant
part of teaching, the greatest gifts I can give my students are
opportunities for them to take responsibility for their own actions
before they tackle more of life’s challenges on their own.

Participating in the three-day studio workshop “Of Intuition and Art”
at the Grand Marais Artist Colony in 2009 especially helped with ideas
to challenge myself and my students to think for ourselves in new and
original ways. This workshop was lead by artist and teacher Elizabeth
Erickson. During the workshop we were given time to create our own
artwork, as well as time studying and talking about the work of great
artists that used intuitive approaches to art-making. Elizabeth Erickson
encouraged us to draw inspiration from everything around us: nature,
poetry, other artwork, etc. The greatest lessons I received from this
workshop were ways of trusting and not downplaying our own instincts
and fascinations. The most effective and original artists are driven to
explore their fascinations, and then work through the frustrations to
execute their ideas. Inspiration+Effort. 

Being an active artist and sharing my artwork with my students has
greatly enhanced my teaching and life in general. I have especially
grown as an artist within the last 10 years, exhibiting in the Mid-West
and in New York City. Surprisingly, all of that happened after I became
a mother and continued to teach. When I look back, I am convinced
that becoming a more serious artist happened because of being a
teacher and mother, not despite of it. I have seen too many parents
and teachers that seem resentful and burned out about continually
giving so much of themselves, which in turn makes them much less
effective and less satisfied parents and teachers. Creating my own
work helps me strike the balance I need. When I feel enthusiasm
and generosity waning, it is time to get back into the studio. It is so
important that our youth watch adults responsibly living the lives
they want to live, even as challenges arise.

I want students to be hopeful and confident about the life and
challenges ahead of them. Now in the midst of my 17th year of
teaching, I am thankful to be in this balanced place of experience,
compassion, enthusiasm, and hope.