One of my favorite parts of a painting is at the point when the the image first starts to take shape. It might be early on when I’m masking off the white areas with masque pen; (my daughter calls it mas-KWAH pen, and now, so do I.) It might be when I’m dredging color through the background wash and see a particularly cool bloom.

It’s the point of every new painting that holds such possibility I feel I might explode.

I had a teacher tell me once that it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. In my painting, that is certainly the case.

I capture most of my progress photos with my phone, which in turn show up on instagram. But if you’re not an IG’er, you can now find them on Flickr as well where I’ve started a new set called Works In Progress.

Some time ago, a client came to me with an idea for an anniversary present for her parents. She wanted to incorporate the images of all 21 dogs they’ve had or fostered since she and her siblings were little. In one painting.

She sent me hard copies of photos from albums, old Christmas newsletters and digital images, plus a clear catalog of all 21 pooches, their name and description. I took all the photos and played around with them in Photoshop for awhile to come up with a pleasing composition. Rather than try to portray each dog in exact size proportions, I decided to feature her parents in the center with all the dogs sort of floating around them like a collage.

It was destined to be a large painting from the start.

I special-ordered 26×40″ paper and handcrafted this hoopty workstation you see below. It was great fun to paint and I love how it turned out.

My improvised work surface

Reference photos on the wall

I told you it was a big painting.

Fin!

The client picked the painting up from my studio and took it all the way to Alaska on a family cruise so it could be presented on the ship. I hear they loved it. I’m inspired to paint larger paintings now and found out I can order rolls of Yupo paper up to 60″ wide and 133′ long.

Anyone need big art?!

I’m a member of the artist association in my hometown. My mom and dad still live there and my mom keeps me up-to-date on the comings and goings of the artist community in the small coastal town. So when mom called me a few months ago and asked if I wanted to design a chair for a charity auction,  I said sure. I mean, why not add one more thing to my plate?

The charity was Neighbor-To-Neighbor which is a group of volunteer mediators that do exactly what it sounds like – they mediate disputes among neighbors, and others, that can’t be resolved otherwise. Anyway, they invite artists to re-design donated chairs within the annual theme. This year was Pirates and Bulldogs, Ducks and Beavers.  If you’re from Oregon you already know that the Oregon State Beavers and the University of Oregon Ducks are bitter rivals and school children start choosing their loyalties in kindergarten. Pirates and Bulldogs refer to the high school mascots of my alma mater (Pirates!) and our cross-town rivals, the Bulldogs.

Envisioning lots of bright designs in school colors, I decided to go in a different direction – a Pirate Captain’s Chair. Since this was all going down in my hometown, I asked my mom to go scope out the chair situation and send photos. I settled on a burly rocker with sturdy arms and carving.

The process took place over a period of two months or so and in two cities as I levied my parents’ retirement and my dad’s handiness with power tools into some free labor.

First, my dad used a rubber mallet to pound off the rockers because, duh, a ship’s captain can’t have a ROCKING chair on a ship. I didn’t get any photos of that because I was too busy holding the chair and also hoping that the legs wouldn’t fly off with the rockers.

We drilled a hole for the wooden parrot that would be perched on the back. Do you see where I’m going with this?

Then, I left my parent’s house and went back home for the next few weeks, leaving them to, I mean asking politely if they would, sand the entire chair down and spray paint it glossy black.

The paint dried and the next time my mom came to visit, she brought the chair with her. I painted some details over the already-carved chair back which pretty much look like they were carved specifically for this project.

I painted some segments of the turned legs gold to look like brass fittings. This sort of work really kills your knees if you are on a hardwood floor, in Oregon, in winter.

I painted the ribs of the chair back to look like ivory or whale bones, and what the heck, I gave it a peg-leg as well.

When it was dry, mom hauled it back to her house, plopped on the cushion I’d picked out at Ross, aka my favorite store in the history of ever, and glued the parrot into his permanent perch. Voila!

My parents went to the auction this weekend and reported that my chair went for the second highest amount – the highest amount if you don’t count chairs purchased by the artist’s mom. Next year’s them is “The Power of Words” and I’ve already got a few ideas…

Several weeks ago I was painting for a client and it just wasn’t turning out the way I wanted. This happens every now and then. I mean, it’s natural to like how some paintings turned out more than others but THIS ONE. JUST. WASN’T. WORKING.

On any level.

Granted, it was in a category of subject that I don’t often paint – botanicals – but I could not seem to wrap my head around it.

It looked like a mud puddle.

Usually when I’m around 90% done with a painting I’ll hold it up for my husband, who’s a good judge of these things, and say, “What’s wrong with it?” He’s not an artist, but I would call him an aesthete. And he has a good eye. He’ll usually look up from his book or his chess game, glance at the painting and say something like, “needs more contrast” or “don’t touch it, it’s done.” He’s usually spot on, pin-pointing exactly what my eye was seeing but my brain could not formulate.

In the case of this troublesome painting he said, “You’re going to have to forget everything you know about painting for this one.”

I let that idea kick around in my head for awhile before attempting the painting again, this time with wider eyes and no game plan.

And darn it, he was right.

Turns out, the formula to paint GRAPES is very different than painting faces, or buildings, or dogs. I left a little more to the imagination in some areas, and added a bit more detail in others.

These grapes are starting to look like…well, grapes.

Grapes in Progress

Doolie

Completed: February 27, 2011

Soundtrack: Guy Clark

Beverage: Coke Zero

P.S. My calendar project is one-third funded with 30+ days to go! There’s still room for the cover reservation and I think eight of the months (includes an original portrait). Or you can just order a calendar!

Sometimes the smallest things can make you happy, right? Great packaging. Twinkly lights. A new pillow. A pine cone you found in the yard, now placed jauntily on the windowsill. Yes, I said jauntily.

These are some of the things that have been making me happy in the studio lately.

A wine bottle stopper that looks like a spigot.

Shepard Fairey poster my friend B bought me. (Also, arranging my bookshelves by color has been immensely satisfying.)

Twinkly lights and birds in Christmas trees year-round.

Viva Frida pillow cover from Etsy

My mascot

Fondue Sundays

A vintage dollhouse I bought and filled with my childhood doll furniture

A bunting I made from ribbon, a printer and Google image search

Box from Voodoo Doughnuts in Portland

"Anatomy of a Frida" print from Etsy

"Global Frida" print from Etsy

French Vogue Cover light switch. Okay, have we established that I'm in a Frida Kahlo phase right now?

Crow banner from Etsy

I was home with a sick kid today. It’s different being home with a sick kid than it is when they’re not sick. When they’re sick with a fever, they’re quiet, and calm, and sometimes even less demanding. They want to snuggle.

All. Day.

Problem is, even when I stay home to “snuggle” there’s always something to be done – work, laundry, dishes, errands I never get around to…. It’s like I’ve lost the ability to just sit still.

It was this realization that inspired me to introduce a few calm pockets of space that might inspire creativity – and perhaps, more snuggling.

Last night’s project was organizing the studio bookshelves by color, something I saw in a Martha Stewart magazine some time ago. I quickly realized that the shelves in the magazines were full of handpicked book spines from the prop house, not a 20-year mismash of cookbooks and paperbacks. But it worked out okay.

I feel calmer already.

The new year is off to a great start – I have nearly 20 paintings on the books right now and more coming in every few days. I feel so lucky that I get to do this, you don’t even know.

I put together this little video of the First Painting of 2011 process; I am still in my Frida Kahlo phase so please enjoy the soundtrack, The Floating Bed, from the movie Frida, which I also love.

My hope for this year is that I will be able to do a few more of these little videos, and also hope that they will improve with each attempt. Right now my “crew” includes a 7 y.o. cameragirl, an obstinate ginger cat and my ridiculously feeble editing skillz.

Bear with me.

Frankie and Jessie

 Completed: January 4, 2011

Soundtrack: Soundtrack from Frida, Various Artists

Beverage: Mochas, Cabernet Sauvignon, Bushmills and Diet Ginger Ale (the painting took a week!)

I’ve been holed up in my studio pretty much every waking hour when I’m not at work or driving someone somewhere or eating or sleeping. The problem is, so has Ron Weasley.

He’s become a serious impediment to my work.

Of course there’s the usual tomfoolery including sleeping where he’s not supposed to sleep, drinking my paint water and leaving a wake of ginger hair wherever he goes. This week though, he crossed a line.

I mean, I guess it was kind of cute that he slinked into an envelope-shaped portfolio for a nap. After all, it wasn’t my art in there, just the kids’. (Which I love dearly, children, and fully intend to store in  my attic for the rest of eternity!)

He's ridiculous.

But when I found slide-y footprints all over my recent 20×26″ self-portrait, well, that was the last straw.

It called for drastic measures.

And notes.

My son typed this up on his new typewriter.

And signage.

My daughter contributed this No Cats on Desks sign.

And even more explicit signage.

Ooooh. Ouch.

I estimate that the Ron Ban 2010 will last approximately 1.5 hours. He’s awfully cute.

Sometimes I feel like my whole life is a cycle of acquiring possessions and subsequently purging possessions. Know what I mean? Maybe it’s the seasons…in the winter, you pad your nest and in the spring you clean out closets.

One of my favorite things to do is go to estate sales, garage sales and warehouses. I call it “junking.” Most of the time I don’t have anything specific in mind (you’ll only be disappointed) and often I don’t find anything at all. But there’s something interesting and sad and maybe haunting(?) about looking at other people’s stuff and trying to piece together a story.

Maybe that’s it. I like things that look like they have a story.

So this weekend my friend B and I loaded up the monsters and went to a couple of estate sales. I needed a break from painting and what is better than retail therapy?

I found a few things I didn’t know I needed until I saw them. Most found their way into my studio.

This amazing rocker will hopefully lure visitors into my studio. (Besides Ron Weasley.)

My son believes this vintage student chair was from Oregon State.

A vintage Olivetti Lettera 32 circa 1963 was a steal at ten bucks. It's the Don Draper of typewriters.

As I jockeyed the chairs around the house trying to find just the right location for them to live, I realized that none of my favorite things are new. They’re all found, gifted, thrifted or repurposed.

I like stuff that feels lived in.