What Is It Like To Be an Artist?

Last week, in spite of my coughing and hacking, I was interviewed by a middle school art student. She had to ask questions, visit my studio, complete a painting in "my style" and make a report on "her" artist. I really didn't feel up to it, croaking answers to her questions, but I thought back to a report my daughter had written in the fifth grade and the impact it had on her and "her artist." (She had selected my friend, Georg Shook, and declared, "After all, he is famous, Mom." Georg was genuinely pleased when she gave him a copy.) Somehow, I found the energy and made the effort to meet with Jordan.

Her questions were interesting ones but sometimes we veered away from the topic. I had forgotten that her parents had brought her in a stroller to a neighborhood party at my house; she had forgotten that she had come. Her grandmother had recently become a member of our family; we were both at the wedding. She had been to the opening or two of my latest work; I had forgotten the quiet teenager.


But this was about art and there were those questions about being an artist which needed answers. . . .

Good questions to ask any artist!
--When did you know you were an artist?
--Do you have a formal art education?
--Did your family encourage you?
--Which artists have influenced you the most?
--What are the most interesting things which have happened to you as an artist?

It was a long project and one which required time, preparation and thought. I applaud her creative and caring teacher. I thank Jordan for making me think about what it's like to be an artist.

The Moment in Time Window

"marginalia"
I was introduced to this word by the Cat Sidh blog. I immediately copied this quote:

"I think the interesting thing about marginalia is not so much the intrinsic information it contains, but the window it opens onto the moment in time when the notes were made."

. . . and placed this comment on her blog:

"A-a-ah, “marginalia.” True for literary folks, but doubly true for visual artists. It’s the one thing we forget to do when sketching. AND, one of the simplest reasons we can’t get back to ‘that moment in time’ when we are back in the studio."

It perfectly fills a little empty spot in my education.

I've always made notes, underlined and doodled in books and my sketchbooks include everything from the weather and smells to sizes of potential paintings I might make. Now I have a word for it!

I learn a lot from Shelly, but mostly she makes me wish I were younger, more irreverent, freer to explore and more creative with the information I have gathered -- especially with the stuff in the margins.

Shelley Couvrette's "Marginalia" entry, along with her other typical bloggin' may be found here: http://cat-sidh.net/blog/?m=200702&paged=4

Judy. Judy. Ju - oops, Annette.

Later today, I'll be taking a break from sorting and shifting things in the studio in preparation for moving in day over the weekend. I'll be meeting some members of my high school class ('59) for an evening of fun at the annual Cutting Horse Futurity -- an event which to some is exciting and to others is like watching the grass grow. We will be guests of a classmate who is director of the event and knowing Pete we can expect some fun. Maybe I'll make a report!



Today's photo is from the barbecue in the fall when Classes of the 50s gathered on a sun-swept hillside. Judy in the purple and gold t-shirt was a part of the committee, Judy in the purple western shirt was hostess and I have a tiny bit of purple mixed with blue in my scarf. The booklet under my arm includes my painting on the inside back cover

The three of us were friends in 8th grade and I introduced the first Judy to her future hubby in 10th grade. With the three of us there tonight, I think we will have a great time. What do you think?

Creative Seduction

Some lovely photos from Martha Marshall on her blog reminded me of an afternoon visit I made to the Castleberry Hill District in Atlanta last month. I spent all my (very short) time at the open studio of Jerry Maschinot. Photographs on this site show a little of his work.

His studio shows evidence of longevity -- leftover bits and pieces, works from old series, flotsam and jetsam from producing, showing and selling his work, a string of lights from a forgotten party, ribbons from awards both major and minor. His photographs and his pottery reflect his interest in surface and design. Both prove the technical ability which he has developed to create very personal statements. His creative energy fills the space.

I prowled around until I found some photos which struck my fancy. I selected a couple and browsed through a little more of the studio.

Then I spotted an unusual pot which I loved immediately.
No price!

I asked if it was an old series or a new direction. How could I not buy a piece which the artist had held onto for several years . . . and then decided he couldn't keep everything . . . and just put it on the shelf for an unsuspecting buyer to love?!

Aargh! I am so easily seduced by color and texture and shape. Once it was broccoli.

I think this is better.

Seeing Once More

Since I had a few requests in comments and in emails for larger images of my previous morning photos, I have reposted "Unexpected Seeing" and changed the photos to individual shots which should enlarge a little more.

Today we have RAIN! RAIN! RAIN! and no, I didn't go out to get more drippy shots. But, just in case you don't have enough fog/rain morning photos, I added these new ones from my early attempts.


We are at Moving Day minus five, so blog entries may be a little quirky this week and next. We'll see!

Condensed Art

Well, Alyson at ArtBizBlog has touched on another museum which I have recently visited -- the Columbia (SC)Museum of Art. Unlike my unhurried visit to The High Museum, this time was quick, fun, an almost "don't stop to look or we won't see it all."

Lucy's Mamma had an appointment nearby, so I took Lucy to her first museum. We saw the pictures of babies in some beautiful paintings and, like Alyson, paused a long time before the Botticelli. We saw a photography show with pictures of a baby from a father's point of view. We saw Frank Lloyd Wright's furniture, but did not take time to read the words -- Lucy liked the interesting lamps. We saw some sculpture -- Lucy blew a kiss to a sculpture of a sad man -- and slabs of glass and antique silver tea sets. We stopped near a window for a snack, examined the elevator buttons and learned about the water fountain. Also, like Alyson, we were distracted by a group of volunteers in a sunlit gallery who were making table decorations for an evening event -- flowers and sparklies.

We were there about an hour and our stroller hardly stopped rolling. I noticed things I had not seen before as I 'curated' a show of things I thought a 16 month old would enjoy. In the past, I would have spent my one hour really looking at a few things, but this was a great way to revisit a familiar place.

I hope Lucy and I get to go again. Maybe they will let us have tea with one of their 'good' ones.

High Art

Yesterday, Alyson Stanfield wrote in her ArtBiz Blog at http://www.artbizblog.com/2007/01/in_atlanta.html about visiting the High Museum of Art in Atlanta. She mentioned that it was her third visit to a museum which had been designed by Richard Meier; she did not mention the 2005 addition by Renzo Piano which more than doubled the size of the Museum and added more space for exhibitions and visitor amenities. She mentioned the exhibition by Morris Louis and Elsworth Kelly and described being in the room with Louis's veils as a sense "--simultaneously--of being at the bottom of a canyon, at the foot of waterfalls, or in a room full of Medieval tapestries;" she did not mention the much touted LouvreAtlanta Exhibition. Did she choose not to mention the soaring architecture or the block-buster exhibition because she was unimpressed? I wonder.

In October, I wrote about my visit with my daughter to The High and LouvreAtlanta. http://bushstrokes.blogspot.com/2006/10/enlightening-conversation.html
I wrote that I was disappointed in the exhibition from the Louvre and the adjacent collections while my daughter simply enjoyed the opportunity to see the sketches, paintings and sculptures. I wonder if I should have done as Alyson did and simply not mentioned it.

However. I promised to return for a more thorough viewing. I did. And I approached it with fresher eyes. Alone and with a full day to browse. I started once again with the 30 or so busts; I am still in awe. I viewed all the art from the Louvre, spending a good bit of time with each piece and even listening to ALL the audio explanations. I enjoyed a number of small pieces, but I am still underwhelmed

I wandered through the gift shop and through several floors of the permanent collections. I stopped to visit the 'Hiney' Gallery (my name for a restroom where the black marble floors are so shiny there are clear reflections of bottoms in the stalls.) As I lunched on a lovely mushroom bisque and a veggie wrap in the ground floor café, I thought about what I might see next. Then, I decided to save the other exhibitions for another day.

Unexpected Seeing

In November, around the time of my birthday, daughter Susan gave me a lovely new digital camera which has so many things to learn and I have been so excited to have a new toy.

So I planned an early morning trip to catch the sunrise among the peach groves of South Carolina.I drove about 30 miles and spent my time photographing . . . a rain-soaked countryside. Oh, well.











I left home early on another day and made the drive under a beautiful morning sky. Nearing my destination, I realized that visibility was decreasing and, when I arrived at the peach groves, I was dismayed to discover them socked in with fog. Strike two on photographing the perfect sunrise.

So much for getting out the door at 'O dark thirty!' (which in case you don't know is pretty early.)

Since those two disappointing mornings, I have played with these images which fill my camera -- editing, deleting, cropping.

I have discovered that I didn't need a perfect sunrise to capture the mystery of the morning.

I just needed to be ready to see the unexpected.

Message from the UPS guy

Last week, I heard the sound of a horn and looked out to see a UPS truck. I went out to see what was being delivered. Hum. Apparently, nothing! The driver was just sitting there. He shouted out the door, "Unless you want to be a redneck, you can take your decorations down now!" It's one of the fun things of living in an urban neighborhood -- people notice stuff!

I explained that son-in-law was not able to be home at Christmas, that he would not be home next year, and that everything was left up until he could be home to celebrate "Christmas." The guy in the brown suit, acting like the guy in the red suit, said, "Well, in that case, you can leave everything up as long as you'd like."

Today, we'll do a little present opening and have a special family dinner. Lucy will get to show her daddy where she hung her stocking and introduce him to her nutcracker friends who line the stairs.

Tomorrow, I will pack everything away and begin to look at some goals and ideas which might get me in the studio.

And I'm sure the UPS guy will continue to keep an eye out for us through this next long year.

Making Space

"Ex-c-cuse Me! I'm moving to Puddin's House."

We are rearranging space to make room for Lucy and her Mamma to come and live with us while her Daddy is in Afghanistan. Since there will be another little one in June, we decided that three of our downstairs rooms -- the office/guest room, the den, and my studio -- would be the best space for them.

It is strange to pack away the space I claimed when I moved in this house 15 years ago:
--"my studio" even when I have had secondary studios in other places;
--"my studio" even when I have not painted for a while (as most of last year);
--"my studio" even when I tackled projects other than painting.

I hope to carve out some space to paint in an upstairs workroom or on a nearby porch and will find a place to write in my sitting room. But, in this new arrangement, I suspect it will not be a matter of making space; I suspect it will be a matter of making time.