Pushing Through the Web

"I came from a family of repairers. The spider is
a repairer. If you bash into the web of a spider, 
she doesn't get mad. She weaves and repairs it."
Louise Bourgeois

So Louise, what if I am stuck in your web? You
were brilliant and bold, but I am making my own
way during a different time, now. Or, what if I
bash into and destroy my own work, because I
do get mad?

This light orange and deep blue painting started
and then abruptly stopped. I sit and wait in the
space-in-between, telling myself to trust the
process. Today, I am looking to my nature
photos, old work, and new friend the Layout
app to push me forward.

Feeling caught in a space or content in a space
are often so close. But, I need to keep pushing
through. And, making. And, repairing. And,
knowing when to listen and learn from the art
masters. And, knowing when to blast through
into making my own history. 

When Wolves Enter

Recent 8"x 8" right panel of a diptych, in-progress.

Much to the excitement and agitation of our
dog, Wimpy "The Protector", we now have
wolves in our rural area. I mean, close! We can
hear them howling on our land. They are most
likely having a feast on the many deer who have 
been very comfortable here. For the 17 years we
have lived here, this is a first.

Knowing how the wolf population is increasing,
it isn't a surprise, but this is a synchronicity that
an artist can not ignore. Wolves entered my
work just a few months before they entered our
land.

Fox have been on our land and in my work for
many years, but the curious nature-intimating-
art and art-imitating-nature event is that the fox
left my work around the time that the wolf
entered. Coincidentally, the same thing happens
in nature, when the wolves move in the fox are
no longer around. Or to be more precise, the
coyotes often enter in-between the fox and
wolf, which did happen on our land, but not in
my work.
 
The coyote are in the space/time-in-between,
the ones pushed out by the wolves and then in
return push out the fox. And, in-between spaces
are a theme in my paintings recently. Maybe
coyotes need to be examined further in my
paintings. Or maybe I just need to shut up and
paint, and see what happens in our woods next.
  

Is Originality Free?

The act of viewing and reading art & poetry 
is usually pretty free and easy, but is making art 
so free? I don't mean the cost of supplies or the 
investment of time to make it, although those are 
issues. My poet friend and sometimes collaborator 
LouAnn Shepard Muhm's recent blog post has 
me thinking about the cost of putting your work 
out there.

Detail of recent painting in-progress.

No more free-bees, only details of my 

paintings before my August 2016 exhibit, 

'Spaces In Between' at Great River Arts in 

Little Falls, Mn. My word for 2016 is FREE, 

in its many implications...

Detail of recent painting in-progress.

To put truly new work out there is daunting,
and few do. In her post Muhm says, "And then 
you will go back to your comfortable life, to think 
your comfortable thoughts, to bite your tongue 
when you think it is prudent, and to answer 
your 'crazy' dream with silent admonitions to 
be realistic and to focus on achievable goals." 
Next, I cracked open the new book Originals:
How Non-Conformists Move the World, 
and Adam Grant states, "The last time you had 
an original idea, what did you do with it? 
Although America is a land of individuality and 
unique self-expression, in search of excellence 
and in fear of failure, most of us opt to fit in 
rather than stand out." Grant does go onto say 
that the most successful originals among us 
"know in their hearts that failing would yield 
less regret than failing to try." Are Muhm and 
Grant conspiring? Okay, okay. I will get to work, 
and free myself to make bigger messes. I won't 
be like the others who do not dare.

Both Muhm and Grant, pose a challenge. Have 
an idea or something to say? Do something 
about it, but do not expect it to be easy. One 
thing I know for sure is that when your art is 
shared, it really doesn't belong to only you 
anymore. It is out there, and people do with 
it what people do. 

In 2016 FREE us to not know, but trust anyway.

Choosing one word isn't an easy task, yet that is
what I assign myself to do every new year now.
BRAVE in 2014. COLOR in 2015. This one large
word/idea, like a block of raw basswood, begins
the new year with a promise. If I will work at it
with both wild abandon and careful hewning,
something from within it will be set free. 

Unfinished acrylic painting started in December. 24"x 30"
Free me to not know, but trust anyway.

I need words, and ideas. And trust. And stories
with texture that follow childlike curiosities.
And brave color. And subtle earthy scents. And
the freedom to be in the space where I do not
worry about money, or the history of art, or the
legacy of my life, or pleasing anyone.

So, you see, my word for 2016 has to be FREE.

That is the raw material I need right now. Free-
dom to push and pull, and dig out the weeds to
expose something new. I can not be afraid to get
these hands dirty and make a little mess. I know
that I can not be too afraid of what will be
excavated, because by now at age 45 soon and
after all the bravery of 2014 and the color of
2015, I know it is much scarier and messier to
hide or deny what is within us. Free us to trust
and not always know.

Thanks to the work and words of artist Kiyomi
Iwata in the article Always Unfolding by Joyce 
Lovelace in American Craft magazine, for 
jolting me out of a winter funk and shaking 
my 2016 word FREE free. 

Joyce Lovelace reports, "Curiosity, creativity, 
and optimism guide Kiyomi Iwata in the evolu-
tion of her life and her art... Her artmaking is
fluid and free."  "I am totally open," she 
[Iwata] says, "And because I'm open, I can
float. For me, that is an exciting process in
itself."

Final 2015 post--dark, colder and older

In the final days of 2015, I want to post this work that
was also painted this month. I struggle this time of year
with the lack of sun as I get older (January birthday) and
the cold clamps down on the region. But, the sun will
shine a little longer each day now. The cold in Minnesota
is inevitable. And aging, well aging continues each day
too, and embracing it is the best option.

Call it gimmicky, but I am on the search for my word for
2016. It will come to me, just like COLOR did for 2015
and BRAVE for 2014. What is most needed now will
determine it.

Working, Wishing & Looking Away

The two most recent paintings from this week are
lighter and brighter, and more simplified. COLOR
was my word for 2015, and it is feeling great to go
with more color, and not over-think it. As my daughter
Anna said this week while writing magnetic poetry
with her sister, "It doesn't turn out if you plan it."

Looking at these recent paintings I am wondering what
it all means, but as an artist it really doesn't matter at
the time of making. What matters is that I am making,
trusting as I go, and not worrying about what will sell,
or what will be exhibited, or how it will be received.
What matters is being present and knowing that I
am painting something that I wish existed. When that
wish, not plan, but when that wish becomes a reality
after some flow and some struggle, there is satisfaction.
At that moment, I am knowing that all is well, and all 
will be okay, and I am in a hopeful state of being. 

Which brings me to something I wrote recently:
Some people will give you the message that no 
matter what you do, how kind or great you are, 
you are still not one of them. Or some people 
just want to point out flaws. Forgive them and 
look away, and find abundant beauty and 
blessings in places outside unhappy groups of 
people. Try not to be sad or bitter, but love, 
because you are loved and imperfect, and 
forgiven. Our time here is short and grace is 
new each minute.

Fresh Art Friday

In keeping with the same compositional format (see
posts below) on 24"x30" canvas, one painting was
finished this week. The other has just begun, and might
be a lighter, brighter painting--or not. Helps to have a
format for beginning (a close up of my shoulder next
to my husband's), and then freedom to explore the door/
wolf/water/space-in-between metaphors as I go. New
stories are forming, and it is feeling fresh.

Beginning a Series of Spaces

With an exhibit coming Summer 2016, a series is beginning.
On October 12th, I posted this photo.

It is a zoomed-in detail of my husband and me overlooking
a lake in 2010, taken by our then 9 year-old daughter
without us realizing it. This photo has fascinated me since
then and recently I started to use the space in between us
from the photo as a take off point for two paintings, that I
hope will grow into more.  And, hello to the wolf, a new
metaphor that is developing.

acrylic painting, 30" x 24"

The Spaces Between Us

At times the spaces in between us are too large and
gaping. Others times the space is small, confined, or
undefined, like where my kids used to share a small
bedroom without closets, or in the tight space of my
claustrophobia dreams crawling through dirt tunnels.

Around 30 years ago, my family went on a river-tubing
excursion in the Minnesota summer heat, my mom, dad,
three little bothers and me. (Now that I think about it, my
parents were young, still in their 30s.) My youngest brother,
Will, had tubes in his ears at the time, and wasn't supposed
to submerge his head. Just as we were about to float down
a rocky stretch of mini-rapids, Will slipped off his tube and
went under--and in went my mom after him. I remember
looking back and being terrified seeing the empty tubes
lightly bobbing toward me. And then, in went my dad to
retrieve both mom and Will. He pulled them up to shore as
the rest of us grabbed their tubes. Now these weren't wild
rapids, but my brothers were little (approx. 5, 7, and 9)
and I was 14. I remember looking at the small bleeding cut
on my mom's leg, and thinking if only the space between 
the tubes had been smaller, I could have prevented it.
(My brothers turned out to have a blast, especially Will.
Risk wasn't my thing then; I've gotten a little better at risk
and not feeling responsible for everything, since then.)

The space in between us is pretty small when raising
young children. It has to be, but now as our daughters are
growing, I am finding more space for myself, and more
space and time for my husband and me. Yesterday as we
walked through our Fall woods, I thought more about the
space in between us, especially with this man who has
walked with me for twenty-two years. Often the woods
are his space, but we walked it together yesterday.

My work has been exploring the spaces in-between, lately.
Below I am playing with the shapes of the shadows and
the space between us.

In our woods yesterday, October, 2015.

Bearhead Lake, 2010. Taken by our daughter, Anna, without us knowing.

Self-Imposed Book Report, by Tiffany Besonen

Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth
Gilbert is a call for creative action, play, and trust.

Shut Fear Up
Written in her girlfriend-at-a-coffee-shop voice,
Gilbert gives many great examples of ordinary people
with "stubborn gladness" hammering out their creative
work despite insecurities and fears. Most memorable for
me is her note to fear, "Dearest Fear: Creativity and I
are about to go on a road trip together. I understand
you'll be joining us, because you always do... understand
this: Creativity and I are the only ones who will be 
making decisions along the way... You're not allowed
to touch the road maps; you're not allowed to fiddle
with the temperature. Dude, you're not even allowed
to touch the radio. But above all else, my dear old
familiar friend, you are absolutely forbidden to drive."
Yes! Fear may be present, but don't empower it.

Stop Complaining. Just Stop.
And here is another thing that shouldn't get much of
your time and attention, negativity and complaining.
Gilbert says, "Of course it's difficult to create things;
if it wasn't difficult everyone would be doing it, and it
wouldn't be special or interesting." She says by
complaining, "you are scaring away inspiration." Good
reminder that the tortured artist image is just an image
that will actually work against you. She who spends less
time with angst has more time to make art. And, art is
what I want to do, right? Yes. Also, EG has the audacity
to suggest that creating is pleasurable and fun, even
sensual. I happen to totally agree, and when it isn't so
fun, I know it will be soon. Complaining and having a
tortured-artist-fit, will prolong getting to the good part,
right? Do we really want things to be easy all the time?
Where is the challenge and reward in that?

Perseverance + Done Enough vs. Perfectionism
Gilbert starts to get to the core of why we make art.
Hint, not to get famous or make money. (Although
she is an example of someone who has gained both.)
She doesn't dig as deep as I'd like into the why of
creation, but most of her point is to not take it all
so seriously. Just do it. Don't worry about whether it
is good or important. Just get it "done enough", she
says, so it isn't just another inspired, but unfinished
creation hanging out there. Gilbert pretty convincingly
tells us that we owe it to ourselves and our inspiration to
follow through, or inspiration will not find us as often. 
Done enough vs. Perfectionism is always an issue with
creators, and probably the difference between the doers
and the quitters. The quitters/non-finishers always have
excuses, but mainly it is because they did not persevere
and allowed their perfectionism (expecting perfect
conditions, perfect materials, perfect timing, perfect
results) to stop them, end of story.

My MFA Dilemma 
I doubt Big Magic will be required reading in MFA
programs, especially since Gilbert says that most MFAs
are too expensive and  unnecessary to actually making
art. While this really is a great thing for me to hear right 
now while I don't have an MFA and probably won't be
in an MFA program in the near future, I have to disagree
with dismissing MFA programs completely. Obviously,
an MFA is required for some jobs (mainly fine arts
professors), but also I believe education (if it's the right
program for you) is an efficient avenue to growth and
transformation. As a teacher, I see evidence of this every
day when students are challenged out of their comfort
zones and then supported and encouraged to new heights.
As an artist, I also want to experience an atmosphere of
support and challenge, in ways that I could never do on
my own. That being said, I cannot sit around waiting for
an MFA to make art; artists always find a way to make
art, as well as find encouragement.

Playful Fox vs. Suffering Martyr
When Gilbert discusses how creativity should be more of
a playful trickster than a suffering martyr, I immediately
got  the image of the fox that keeps showing up in my work.
I imagine my fox playing and creating when Gilbert says,
"I believe that the original human impulse for creativity
was born out of pure trickster energy. Of course it was!
Creativity wants to flip the mundane world upside down
and turn it inside out." My fox has become my inner stinker,
the playful companion who bores easily with my self-pity,
and does not want to stop even when I run out of paint or
time or both. Obstacles like needing sleep or the high
cost of art supplies are nothing to this fox; there are always
ways around, under, or through them.

Curiosity, The Best Meat
Finally, toward the end of Big Magic: Creative Living  
Beyond Fear, Elizabeth Gilbert gets to what I consider
the really meaty stuff. My inner-fox devoured it up and
wanted more. EG says if you are fascinated by or have an
interest in something, pay attention. "It might seem like
nothing, but it's a clue. Trust it. See where curiosity will
lead you next. Then follow the next clue, and the next,
and the next." This is some of the how of making art. Life
is not boring, look around. "And since creativity is still the
most effective way to access wonder, I choose it."

Vulnerability & Fierce Trust 
Then it is time to let go of your work and share it with
others, and in my opinion it really isn't art if it isn't
shared, becoming more than just yours. It is scary and
there are no guarantees that it will be well received.
"Fierce trust demands that you put forth the work
anyhow, because fierce trust knows that the outcome
does not matter." If you truly want to make art, it does
not matter how it is received. IF I TRULY WANT TO
CREATE ART, THEN THE FOX MUST PLAY!

Unbound, 2015, acrylic (including metallic copper) on canvas

Tiffany Besonen is an artist and art teacher who lives in rural Northern

Minnesota on a century old farmstead with her family. She teaches 
grades 3-12 Art in the Nevis School District, and has exhibited her 
work throughout the Midwest and at the SOHO20 Gallery in New York 

City. She writes about the challenges and joys of art-making.

Movement In Between

"In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed 

and the first of that which comes; so with present time."

Leonardo da Vinci


August 2015 Camping Trip. Rocks and lines of foam downstream from Gooseberry Falls, Mn:

The Space In Between

Space In Between, diptych, acrylic paint and paint marker on canvas, 16" x 8"

My individual work seems to thrive best when I find 
places to observe the 'space in between', the space 
that connects. Doors in my work began when I was 
at a workshop at the Minneapolis College of Art and 
Design. While the aged doors and historic architecture 
of the MCAD campus was interesting, it wasn't until 
I opened the doors and sketched the thresholds that 
the spaces came alive. The 'space in between' of a 
threshold isn't inside or out, here or there, but a 
connection of the two. Undefined, unnamed spaces 
intrigue, yet scare me. Grief is also an in-between 
space like that, vague, scary, and confusing. At MCAD 
and later at home, parts of the elusive fox appeared 
in the open doorways, a tail here and a snout there. 
Sometimes the fox seems like my unseen and unheard 
self, sometimes kinetic energy, but always whispering 
for me to follow. 

Grief may be a thread through my recent work, but also 
the energy of hope and acceptance is present. Now, the 
negative 'spaces in between' the doors and foxes are 
yielding these colors, great abstract shapes, and active 
lines that speak to me. My new work seems to be 
especially saying something about joy, freedom, and 
hope.

Summer of Awkward, In Progress

In progress, paint marker on acrylic painted canvas

The painting above is in progress, one of those things
that can go in many directions yet. The vertebrae of the
fox tail is becoming exposed and that has me realizing
that my fox and crow are metamorphosing, somehow.

Also in progress is the 'Summer of Awkward'.
One of my favorite quotes of my daughter from
earlier this year:
Me, "So, what did you do before the game?"
Anna, "We just walked around being awkward."

She cracks me up, but it really is how we
walk through most of our lives, awkwardly doing
the best we can. While acquaintances think we are
predictable, the truth is that we are all slowly
changing and we could go in so many directions.

With a teen, a tween, and Dan and me in our 40s,
awkwardness prevails and today I decided it must be
embraced, not avoided. We do like to make fun of
ourselves, which makes it all the more bearable.
My family and friends inspire me to move forward
through my own awkwardness, try new things, and
laugh at myself as I go. It is most comfortable (and
least awkward) to do what I already know, but
constant comfort is very unsatisfying and
unproductive. Isn't it?

Making Peasant Memories

Yes, peasant.  Although, pleasant too.

I am asking my family to make lists of free/inexpensive
things they want to do during the Summer of 2015.
While I'd love a family trip to to London and Finland,
we (and our budget) need to appreciate "nearby
subtleties--the everyday, heart-twinging beauty that
quietly begs to be heard". Yep, quoting my own about
page. In Northern Minnesota in the Summer, heart-
twinging beauty is easily found, but it is also a time to
learn the satisfaction of manual labor "passed down
from generations of farmers." Another quote of myself,
from a 2008 post about Spring. Am I getting too lazy
to write new stuff? My farmer ancestors would be so
disappointed. But, don't judge, just love. (Hey, I may
have just created a new quotable quote.)

There are a slew of well-intended lists on mommy
blogs, telling us how to be the perfect parents in 10 
Steps to an Enchanted Summer for Your Young 
Royalty. (Do not desperately look for that link--made
that up.) And how much like failures will most of those
parents feel come September? I clicked on something
yesterday and was lead to an online class (only $150)
for parents to learn how to have the best summer ever
with their kids. Really? Is there a formula? I should,
instead, sell giant cardboard boxes for $149 to those
parents, The Box of The Month Club.

Pulling weeds and picking rocks may not be
enchanting, but necessary lessons in earning fun
and relaxation, and experiencing the satisfaction of
seeing progress---and, understanding they are not
royalty. Although, a totally free walk through the
woods is pretty enchanting.

Landscaping, last Summer, and making peasant memories. 

Fresh Art Friday

Fresh today, May 1, 2015
Tuning In, 11" x 14", acrylic on canvas panel

MORE color

More COLOR for the New Year. Hello 2015!

January, 6, 2015, 7:45 a.m., On my way to work.

Authentic and Intense COLOR

Resolving to be authentically and intensely COLORFUL
in 2105!

After I stepped outside our back door and snapped
this photo the morning December 31, 2014, I
decided my word for 2015 has to be COLORFUL.
It is time to embrace more actual and metaphoric
color--noticing it, using it in my art, encouraging it
in others, and simply not yielding so much to
inhibitions when authentic color is needed. No,
this doesn't mean more swearing... although
when I am overtired, watch out.

Authentically and intensely colorful? It is in me,
as well as my family, friends, and students. As in
the photo, nature teaches us about timing and color.
Intense color is this breathtaking and uplifting
because it contrasts the ordinary. We don't get this
drama every morning, but we can notice it when
it happens and is needed. Had I kept looking
toward the gray western sky, I'd have missed it.
Glad my word of the year isn't OBLIVIOUS.

I secretly love the color gray, and could mix varied
gray paints all day long. Concrete floors, gray fuzzy
rugs, shiitake grey counter-tops--just about any bold
and vivid color looks great next to these. Sometimes
we are the gray, sometimes we are the glowing
yellow-orange center of the sunrise. Timing. Some-
times we are the gray fox, sometimes we are the
red. Contrast. CONTRAST could just as easily be
my 2015 word too. There really is no enjoyment of
color without knowing the contrasting gray or
some darkness.

In 2014, my word was BRAVE. And it was a year
to be brave and vulnerable in the face of challenges
and opportunities. I have written a lot here about
how making and sharing art requires courage and
vulnerability, as does living. To put really authentic
work out there, you have to be vulnerable. In 2014,
I made a lot of art and shared it. It also was a year
of intense grieving, for our family. There was a
contrasting need for BRAVE beyond the opportun-
ities I predicted. So now I wonder, why is COLOR
needed? It will be another year of challenges and
opportunities, I'm sure.

Brene' Brown said once in an interview, "One
of the most painfully inauthentic ways we show
up in our lives sometimes is saying 'yes' when
we mean 'no,' and saying 'no' when we mean 
'hell yes.' I'm the oldest of four, a people-
pleaser -- that's the good girl straitjacket that I
wear sometimes. I spent a lot of my life saying 
yes all the time and then being pissed off and
resentful."

We get to choose to watch the sunrise.

Ambiguity, Play, Curiosity

Watched this video (shared by a fellow art teacher)
last night, and was pretty choked up by the end--it is
so right-on with what I believe and try to practice as
an artist and teacher. 

Dealing with Ambiguity, Time for Play and Exploration, 

and Curiosity-based Research!

http://youtu.be/ZcFRfJb2ONk

No idea where these works are going, but embracing
the ambiguity and play, and just need to make some-
thing.

Resilient Fox

These fox bowls remind me of my daughter Anna. She is 

sometimes fierce and quick, other times cautious and quiet, 

always witty and clever. The fox character first showed up 

in my sketch responses to LouAnn Shepard Muhm's poem 

Litany. Litany is about hope and resilience, and the fox

has come to represent resilience, to me.

That this counterfeited window may allow the scent of sedge. --LouAnn Shepard Muhm

Today, I am thinking a lot about resilience, what I wish for
all my loved ones in the face of life's disappointments and
difficult challenges.

When you are truly doing something new, something that
doesn't have a recipe or formula, it takes resilience through
the fear and uncertainty. "Hope begins in the dark, the 
stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the 
right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and 
work: you don't give up."  ― Anne Lamott

Writers and artists know this--our gifts are meant to be
shared. To hoard and hide our gifts is cowardly. We know
our gifts for words or images aren't truly realized until shared,
and possibly help others. Anna, a voracious reader and aspiring
writer, understands this."When writers make us shake our 
heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, 
and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our 
buoyancy is restored. We are given a shot at dancing with, 

or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead 

of being squashed by it over and over again. It's like singing 

on a boat during a terrible storm at sea. You can't stop the 
raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits 
of the people who are together on that ship.”
― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

That we may gaze out from our husks, toward the greening promise. --LouAnn Shepard Muhm

After Reassurances

Our first exhibit of Reassurances is done. Some takeaway points:

 1. Most things are more than worth the wait. Here I am seeing the exhibit for the first time at Cedar Crest College in Allentown, PA, relieved and grateful that LouAnn and I didn't drop the ball over the last four years. Thank you to Jill, Brian, Nancy, the entire Cedar Crest Art department, driver Chuck, students, staff and administration of Cedar Crest College, and photographer Tom. They all made us feel welcome, even though our zealous Minnesota hugging habits surprised a few!

 

 

2. Community engagement connects us in unexpected and lovely ways. Fellow artist, Minnesota native, and Cedar Crest Art professor and department chair, Jill Odegaard, led a community engagement project in conjunction with our exhibit. 100 college student and staff bowls, made from paper pulp, clay and mixed-mediums and inscribed with their own writing against fears, were on display in the entrance of the gallery. Most of the bowls were created by students for art courses, but a few were created by college staff. Students started with an online Skype writing workshop with LouAnn, and then made bowls. Later, Cedar Crest staff were invited to participate in bowl-making too... bonding ensued. And, we're told, the closing reception was more highly attended than usual. A student shared with us the story about how she got to know a staff member from another department at one of these community bowl-making workshops, and they were excited to find out just how much they have in common and exchanged phone numbers. New connections that may not happen otherwise--this was a whole new scale of collaboration for us, and we thank Jill for teaching us more about it! (NY Times article, The Art of Community Engagement.)

The crowd ready to hear the artists speak.

The students were so proud and excited about their own bowls.

Cedar Crest student and staff bowls by the entrance of the gallery.

Me, speaking with my hands, or perhaps trying to form a bowl out of thin air!

 

 LouAnn and I, relaxed and already percolating more ideas.

 

3. Walk into the the unknown, carrying your fascinations and obsessions. For me these doors-within-doors paintings provide a balance to the exhibit. They are still pretty new to me, but the theme of our artists' talk turned out to be "There is not a formula for collaborating or making art, but pay attention and don't ignore the natural progressions and obsessions that keep showing up in your work, thoughts, and path." Doors, like the sheep and pears in my past work, could be cliche symbols or powerful personal metaphors. The 'door within the door' in these works relates to really paying attention to the beauty of the every day--the subtle, hidden door within the door that transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary.

Displayed curved from the gallery wall, echoing the curves of the bowls.

Large Bowls in 'Reassurances: Incantation Bowls Reimagined' exhibit in Allentown, Pennsylvania

The big bowls are lit in the gallery at Cedar Crest College
in Allentown, PA!

See video of the lit bowls here if it is not playing:
http://youtu.be/XKCo8gCKlI8

Opening Today!

Sept. 12 - Oct. 17, 2014
Artist Reception: Oct. 16; 6:15 – 7:45 p.m.
Harmon Hall of Peace, Cedar Crest College, Allentown, PA

Reassurances: Incantation Bowls Reimagined

Sept. 12 - Oct. 17, 2014
Artist Reception: Oct. 16; 6:15 – 7:45 p.m.
Harmon Hall of Peace, Cedar Crest College, Allentown, PA

Since 2010, LouAnn Shepard Muhm and Tiffany Besonen have been collaborating to create a collection of incantation bowls, in which Muhm’s incantations against fears are inscribed on Besonen’s translucent sewing pattern bowl forms. In 2010, Muhm and Besonen were educated about the large numbers of ancient Babylonian incantation bowls, 6th-8th Century CE, that have been unearthed in Iraq since the 1990s. Ancient incantation bowls are shallow bisqueware forms with a simplified character painted in the center and an incantation against a particular fear inscribed starting along the rim and spiraling toward the illustration. Each bowl and its incantation were created for a specific family’s plea for assurances against particular fears. The bowl was then buried upside down under the threshold of the family’s home. This collaboration between artist Tiffany Besonen and poet LouAnn Muhm has resulted in bowls containing incantations against cancer, violence, poverty, ignorance, and loss of hope, as well as in a series of Besonen’s dreamlike doors within doors, echoing the idea of the threshold. The results are powerful and hopeful.

Gifts of Collaboration

Reassurances: Incantation Bowls Reimagined
(sewing pattern bowl forms containing LouAnn Muhm's
poetry and doors within in doors paintings) is being
installed this week at the Lachaise Gallery. Like a child
before Christmas, I am counting down the days until we go
to Cedar Crest College in Allentown, Pennsylvania. Details
and an exhibit summary statement are here.

Like most artists and teachers, I have always been good at
working alone. So, this collaboration thing is kind of new
for me. Of course it helps that I have a collaborator who
gets me, as only a dear friend can. We have found that
poetry and art-making have some things in common and
some differences, but they are both a mixture of hard
work and awe. The results are always gifts.

I can not fully explain my excitement when LouAnn hands
me the gift of her words. Having first access to new poetry
is a gift in itself, but then responding to new poetry that
hasn't been out in the world yet is pretty extraordinary.
This is the motivating and daunting part, someone is relying
on me to create something new from those words--
someone who trusts and inspires me. I want to give back.

Now, the collaboration is bigger than us, and sent out into
the world. Reassurances are always gifts.

Incantation Bowls nested, packaged and ready to send.

More translucent bowls! Exhibit opens in September.

Against Violence

Assuming we know

We are all guilty of it, not asking enough questions
--assuming we know someone and their ever-changing
stories. Or worse yet, asking questions and not really
listening to the answers.

Making art, for me, is all about asking questions. Not
assuming a thing, but posing a problem or asking a
question, and seeing where it leads. Most often this
process leads to more and more questions and few
answers. This requires patience. Building a body of
work does not happen over night, but it does happen
slowly. I'd love to skip a step or two, assume I know
it all, make it all fit into a pinterest-like/crafty formula,
and then close this chapter, and finally clean up the
dining table. It is messy, my table and the process.

Today, I am asking questions about doors and also
examining this quote by the writer Elizabeth Gilbert,

"Each one of my books has been written to a different person, and 

always to somebody I know well. I find that this is almost the most 

important decision (“Who exactly is it for?”) because that intimacy 

with my imagined reader will completely determine my voice and how 

I tell the story. I think it’s important to keep that one reader in mind 

as you write, and to hold yourself accountable to the duty of 

delighting them or transporting them as well as you can. It keeps me 

honest, somehow, and gives me a more human touch, I hope."

I am not sure how that translates to making art, exactly, 

but I do know that my ten year old daughter is probably 

one of the best people I know at asking questions and 

then really listening to the responses. She is so naturally 

curious and observant. Were we all like that at ten? It 

seems like that is one of her greatest gifts, and something 

that she is teaching me. Maybe these doors are for her;
she won't mind that each door holds more questions than
answers. Each one leads to the next, and then back to
another. A cohesive body of work for me doesn't really
have a beginning or an end, but they are all connected
somehow and tell fragments of stories for Julia to ponder.
She will be asking questions about them, there is no doubt.
(By the way, the bowls are for you Anna, age 13. More to
come about that!)

Here are a few details of recent doors. I am not going to 

show too many entire works now before the big reveal in 
September. The exhibit of my artwork and LouAnn's words 
opens the beginning of September at the Lachaise Gallery
of Cedar Crest College in Allentown, PA. 

in-progress: gouache, charcoal, watercolor pencil

gouache, charcoal, acrylic paint, watercolor pencil, & coffee on paper

Grand Marais Door: gouache, charcoal, & coffee on paper

gouache, charcoal, acrylic paint, carbon transfer, watercolor pencil, coffee on paper

Office Hours: gouache, charcoal, & coffee on paper

Painting with coffee