Creative Dry Spell

I'm in an inspirational dry spell at the moment.  A lot of ideas are swimming around in my head, but I haven't been able to commit to any new projects that require real artistic skill.  I keep making sketches, looking at various substrates in the piles, and at the tile/glass selections on hand.  Right now, I have a large drawing of my goat, Gimli, ready to map out and make into a cartoon, and I'm in progress on an oil pastel re-creation of a Jost Ammon woodcut of a woman with a bee skep.  But, in both cases, I want to work bigger than I have been, and I haven't figured out what method to use.  Should I buy mesh to lay over the design, use the contact paper method, or transfer the design to the substrate and work directly?  I'm most comfortable with direct method, but transferring images is complicated.

In the meantime, I've finished installing my stair risers and put in a backsplash in my bathroom.  I also completed an abstract mosaic in monochromatic white.  These projects are more intuitive, less stressful, and require less effort than representational mosaic.  All projects are rewarding, and I like having more and less challenging projects going at all times, so that I can move back and forth between them.

Challenging, stressful, and utterly satisfying.

More like a puzzle, somewhat formulaic, meditative, and fun.

I don't like dry spells.  I feel unfocused.  But, I know they are important.  Creative energy needs to rest and wait sometimes.  Other things need attending, like bills and housekeeping and pet maintenance.  I really should be cleaning my studio.  I think part of my discomfort with down time is a fear that I'm tapped.  I am out of ideas.  I'll forget how to create or lose momentum.  There is also the need to keep working, keep producing, keep selling art.  If I don't, I'm just a homemaker, and that completely devastates me.  I'm not the domestic type.  Thoughts of getting real job start to plague me, and I fantasize about the notion of punching a time clock and getting a reliable paycheck.  Then I remember that my daughter would have to go to after school care, and I have no idea what we would do about her many half days, in-service days, and when she's sick.  I would have to sell my goats and our food growing efforts would be thwarted.  There would be commuting costs, frantic meals, doing laundry at midnight...  Time to get off the laptop and make some mosaic!

Pink Rhodies, glass-on-glass.

The Federal Way Senior Center commissioned a second project from me this year.  This is a glass-on-glass mosaic that will embellish the top of a new sign at their entryway.  It will be illuminated by natural light, and the design will be visible from both sides.  I delivered the finished piece on Saturday, and I'm excited to see it installed in its permanent home.

The main part of the mosaic is done using Opus Sectile, which means that the pieces are cut to fit the shape of the object they represent; i.e. each petal and leaf blade are cut as one piece, the way a stained glass artist would work.  However, stained glass would not be able to accommodate the small details, like pistils, as they would get lost within the copper and lead.  These small pieces are very hard to cut, and a ring saw was used to cut into the petals where the pistils were inlaid.  The background is done using Opus Palladium, which simply means it is random, though each piece is still hand cut to fit together, like a puzzle that hasn't been made yet.

This was a delightful little project to complete, perfect for summer.  Now, I feel the shift toward Autumn, my favorite time of year, and I'm working on painting a bench for the City of Olympia.  It has taken me several weeks for Mike and I to strip off the gum, hair (yes, wads of it), laminate, and primer paint from the slats, and then I applied new primer and a base coat of different colored enamels.  A pattern is slowly emerging, and I will soon add layers of detail to create a "magic carpet" design.  I am drawing on my experiences applying henna, studying Middle Eastern Art and Culture in college, last year's trip to Turkey, and playing with techniques in Laurel Skye's recent book on Rajasthani inspired mosaic.  As soon as my daughter returns to school in a few days, I'll be making fast progress on the final stage of that project.

Red Hot Art and Fun

Last night, my friend Gabriela and I attended the very swanky Red Hot party and auction at Tacoma's Museum of Glass.  Gabriela Cowan is half of the mother-daughter team that comprises Hexen Glass Studio in Olympia, and they create custom stained and fused glass artwork.  We each juried into this exhibit, in which all proceeds benefit the museum's education programs.  I also attended last year's event, and it has proven to be a great opportunity to network and gain exposure.

As both Gabi and I are introverted country girls who spend almost all of our time on farms and in studios, we were giddy with the excitement of dressing up and going to a fancy party.  Walking into the Museum of Glass during the exhibit is like entering a glass artist's wonderland.  The whole main space gets set up as a huge maze of every kind of glass art, nicely lit and displayed.

This is one of my favorites, blown and hand-sculpted glass by Shelley Muzylowski Allen.

With our glasses of wine, we perused the art, commenting on how important it is to get out of our comfort zones once in a while, and to look at art made by other people.  I enjoy eavesdropping on people as they look at my work.  Whether they like it or hate it, I find it interesting to hear their perspectives.  In this case, I overheard rave reviews, and watched as the bidding sheet quickly filled up!  Here's the piece they won:

Gabi's fused glass cityscape also received many bids, and it looked great.
I can't find a digital image of her piece, but here is one that is similar:

We were both invited to give an interview for a live webcast, and I agreed.  Always nervous when put on the spot, I don't remember much of what I said.  I was completely hypnotized by the tall, gorgeous woman interviewing me.

After the silent auction, we were called in for dinner.  After a week of eating without groceries, it was great to be served a delicious meal, but the very best part (possibly the best part of the whole evening) was the chocolate wine they served with dessert!  Chocolate Wine...I didn't even know such a thing existed!  It was absolutely divine, especially paired with a dark chocolate truffle.  What a treat, and what a fun night.  I'm so glad I was able to share the experience with a good friend.

Hair

Over this past winter, I began a series of mosaic panels around a "hair" theme, mainly based on an image in my mind of an exhibit consisting of multiple pieces, all with the same basic design of a long, undulating shape with a woman's face, but all done with different colors and andamento.  I bounced my idea off of Mike, who felt it would be a good practice for me to repeat the same design over and over, and to create a collection that could be presented as a real body of work.

I began with some long wedi scraps I had lying around, cutting them to the shape I had in my mind.  The first was purple, and very rudimentary, though I did practice using a more classical style of setting my tesserae by cutting all of my glass shards into little squares, which I found tedious.  Also, this piece is ungrouted, which is sort of the trendy way to work in Mosaic-land, but I rarely feel comfortable with my own work ungrouted.

In the meantime, I felt the need to go back to my persistent interest in mythology and culture to explore stories like Rapunzel while trying to understand why we put so much emphasis on hair.  I mean, why do we save locks of hair as mementos?  Why do women have to cover their heads in certain religions?  Why does our hairstyle tell the world so much about our identities?  Why wasn't I allowed to cut my hair until 7th grade?  Why does our hair even grow the way it does, on our heads, and continuously?

I've been keeping a sketch journal and reading whenever I find time, making notes, drawings, and writing about my own personal hair story.  It is pretty fascinating (to me.)  Here's a bit of trivia for you: The ancient sun gods were depicted as an orb with golden rays (sometimes interpreted as shining hair) emerging, which evolved into the halo as a symbol of divinity, which turned into a crown worn by royalty to indicate their divine right to the throne.

I've been working hard to stick to this theme, but I'm aching to make something different.  I keep small, simple projects going on the side as an outlet for my need for change.  The hair series keeps evolving, and while I've stuck with the theme, it won't be a room full of the same image over and over.  I just can't do it. Now, my symbolism has turned personal, and the mosaic on my easel deals more with my childhood, in which hair played a significant role.

Also, some upcoming exhibits required submissions, and I feel this work is my best foot forward, so they may start getting distributed to various shows, if I'm accepted.  Even if they are not accepted, I will not be in a position to reject potential buyers, and I've had inquiries.  So, my vision of a traveling Hair exhibit is slowly fading.

This one is titled "Growing" which is what it is really all about.

The vulnerability of putting work in galleries

This is an example of art that doesn't look nice in peoples' homes.

I have been selling my work for almost 20 years, beginning with naive oil pastel paintings, then ceramic figurines and wire jewelry, handmade cards, and eventually, the work I do now.

As an artist, you dream of galleries coming to you, begging to represent you and your brilliant work. But, for most of us, it is a very different experience. We venture out into the art world without maps, having no idea where to go or how to talk about our work. I still don't have a map, but I thought I would write about a few lessons I've learned.

The first time I approached a gallery (unannounced), I brought a few examples of my weird oil pastels of stylized naked women, sometimes depicting my young feminist idealogy. The owner bluntly informed me that my work was not a good fit for the gallery. She said, "Our clients like to buy things that will look nice in their homes." I quickly shuffled out with my invisible tail between my legs. However, I sucked up my pride, went to another shop (not gallery) and found the owner happy to accept my linocut-printed cards on consignment. The lesson: Don't expect to be accepted by the first gallery you approach. Prepare for rejection and know that your work may fit in certain venues, but not others.

A couple of years later, I had apprenticed with a ceramic artist, and had a box of ceramic figurines. I was still heavily influenced by the women's movement, but these were more celebratory. Having moved to Albuquerque, I took them to the local women's bookstore, where the owner took them all and gave me a sound lecture about pricing. She pointed out that, by pricing my work so low, I was not only paying myself poorly, but also underpricing other artists. We put fair prices on the work, and they all sold. The lesson: Compare your prices to others in your market. We all need a fair wage.

Around that same time, I was making wire and bead jewelry. I took my collection to a really cool gift shop in Madrid, NM (one of my favorite places.) The owner was very kind to discuss pricing with me, and she accepted my work on commission, and it sold well. I continued to supply her with jewelry until I moved back to WA 8 months later. After a while, I couldn't reach the shop or owner. A friend went to the shop for me to find that it had closed. I was never paid for the items I left there. The lesson: Be cautious about leaving your work where you can't monitor the sales. Make sure you have a written contract with items and prices listed for your records.

For many years after that, I only sold at a cooperative gallery in Seattle and at independent shows that I arranged at cafes. If you are just starting out, this is a very good option for getting your work seen. Look for cafes and restaurants that have rotating art shows and ask for an appointment with the curator. Take photos of your work and remember that your art is going to represent the business while it is hanging. Choose businesses that are more likely to accept your work. Don't take edgy art to a conservative tea shop, for instance. The disadvantage is that you are responsible for all promotion and sales. But most cafes don't take a commission, so it gives the artist a great way to sell art at low risk. Some will even allow you to hold an opening party, which is a great opportunity to network.

After working in mosaic for a few years, I heard about a gallery in Seaside that specializes in mosaic. My husband was leading a field trip there, so he took one of my mosaics to the gallery. This was my first time putting work in a real gallery, and the owner was kind enough to alter my mosaic to make it gallery-ready. She removed the eye-hooks I had screwed into the top and replaced them with d-rings on the back. Then she painted over the mess of grout I had left on the back. The piece sold fairly quickly, and I received a check in the mail. The lesson: Always use d-rings and woven wire for 2-D artwork. Make sure it looks neat and tidy on all sides (even the back.)
Additionally:
-Be prepared to set your pricing. It helps to go in with a price in mind, and negotiate from there. Most galleries take 50%, so know how little you are willing to accept. If you know you can sell something for more than you will get from the gallery, it may not be worth it. On the other hand, selling at a gallery looks good on a resume, you reach a new audience, the gallery promotes you and takes care of taxes, and your work will look much nicer than it will on the wall of a cafe.
-Be professional. (Do as I say; not as I do.) I tend to talk too much out of nervousness, openly express my insecurities, and sometimes realize my work isn't ready to hang. Just recently, on one of those days where I was one step behind all day, I took work to a gallery without any d-rings attached. I had my screw-gun with me and ran (literally) to a hardware store, the second one I had gone to that didn't carry d-rings. I bought some drawer-pulls that resembled d-rings and tried to attach them back at the gallery. They broke. I did all of this with the gallery owner tending her customers around me. I am still working through my shame.

I hope some budding artist stumbles across this and learns from my mistakes. Good luck!

General update on homestead and business

I've written a few entries about our efforts to grow our own food and to engage in the Slow Food movement. (Confession: Until this year, I thought Slow Food meant taking your time eating.) It was more challenging with Mike's mom visiting over the holidays. This is the woman who has refused to drink our organic milk in the past because she thinks extra chemicals and hormones MUST be added for health purposes. We generally take her to the grocery store on the way home from the airport to make sure she has food that she likes. So, for the first time in months, we ate salad with our meals.

It's one thing to live with unusual food choices as a family, but it is another when we have visitors who aren't used to eating pumpkin three times a day. And I felt fine about adding some out-of-season ingredients during the holidays.

Besides, it is getting harder lately to put tasty meals together with the food we have available. On Christmas Eve, which is also my dad's birthday, I made a special dinner of Buffalo roast (grown about a mile and a half away), salad, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie (our pumpkin).

Unfortunately, I used many of our frozen veggies to make a big soup, but it turned out awful. Even I couldn't eat it. What a waste of hard-earned food! Overall, we are getting about one egg per day, we still have a lot of chicken and some vegetables in our garage freezer, and there are a few loaves of zucchini bread left. I just harvested the last of our carrots yesterday. Every morning, I make Mike a smoothie from our carrots, chard and blueberries. I add strawberries, bananas, protein powder and juice from the store. As winter progresses, we are buying more and more food ingredients, but trying to pay attention to where they come from and choosing organic.

An abandoned bunny joined our family two days ago. His name is Uncle Wiggily, and he was left behind when a family moved from their home. Anouk has been begging for a bunny for years, so she's thrilled. We are still figuring out where he will live, but so far, he's settling in fine.

As for my business, I took a break from mosaic during the past couple of weeks, mainly because my studio was in a state of complete chaos, and I didn't have time to clean it. In the evenings, I worked in the house on fabric experiments and some projects for us that I had been putting off. Now I'm preparing to start 3 new commissions and creating new art panels for galleries and a recycled art festival in March.

I've had many ideas over the past few months that I haven't had time to realize, so I expected to get out there and whip out some of those. However, I find myself making something totally new and different. Suddenly, I'm working small and abstract, piecing together little bits of glass into inset rectangles on drawer faces. I have this nagging feeling that I'm wasting time, while I'm doing it, like I should be working off of the sketches in my notebooks, concocting masterpieces. Last night, I realized that I have something to learn from these little, simple mosaics, and I need to follow that urge. It could be as simple as a need to play, and to let go of the pressure to make something grand and impressive. Besides, these small pieces will provide some items that I can sell in a lower price range.

It's a new year and everyone seems to be looking toward spring. Bulbs are already coming up in the garden, and by the end of the month some of the trees will have small buds on them. I have a sense of a new beginning for me as well, with ideas brewing, new projects, and many goals to work on.

Tile scraps:

The top photo is just part of a collection of ceramic castaways that my artist-friend Loralin Toney just gave me. A treasure! For years, she has made and sold beautiful flower lamps that she made of clay (I have several in my house), but her creative passion has found a new direction. I have some ideas for these....

Below that is just one of many piles of discarded tile, waiting for the right project.

What is a Cosmic Blue Monkey?

People are often amused by my business name: Cosmic Blue Monkey Designs. The question is often asked, "Why?" So here it is in a nutshell...

Years ago, I had a close friend who loved to explore all things metaphysical. She was well versed in Numerology, could tell me what was going on in my life based on my muscle tension and facial blemishes, studied Aryuveda, and delved into Mayan Astrology. Apparently, the Mayans had their own complex system of astrology, each of us has a "signature" and this tells you something about your purpose in life. A signature is a combination of 3 elements, so each person is something like a "White Magnetic Dog" (that's my husband) or a "Yellow Spectral Warrior" (my daughter.) When my friend informed me that I am a Blue Cosmic Monkey, I was thrilled! How fun is that? And it felt just right.

Each part of the signature tells me something about my life's motivation. The color is my "source of power" and Blue means Transformation, intuition, energy, vision, magic, healing. The middle word is a "tone" which determines my function, and Cosmic is this: The patience of a tree. You are a great listener. Able to see above the fray of dramas, transcending argument & offering calm, objective advice. And the last word is your "tribe," which tells you your "archetypal essence." Monkey is Play, Illusion, Magic, Artistic Trickster. There's more to it, but that is the simple explanation.

However, I prefer the cadence of Cosmic Blue Monkey, so I use that for my business name. You can find your Mayan signature here: http://www.galactichardwarestore.com/calculator/mayan_calculator.php It is fun to play with.

It's November.

As I type, a pot of pumpkin is brewing on the stove. Usually, I pop them in the oven for an hour or so, then remove the guts and peel. I can then cut up the soft flesh and turn it into a puree with my Vitamix. Unfortunately, the consistency is way different from the canned pumpkin I buy at the store, so my pie takes longer to cook and is not very firm. I asked Mike to help me carve one up last night (it takes some strength!) and we cut it into pieces to get it ready to boil. I am hoping that I can puree the boiled flesh and get a thicker consistency that will work better with my recipes.

This weekend, friends will be coming over for a "Pumpkin Celebration" where we will all share pumpkin-oriented dishes and recipes. I'm hoping this will help stave off pumpkin overload, which is already setting in.

While we are having a remarkably mild Fall so far, it is always colder in my studio than it is outside, and I'm finding it more and more difficult to get an early start each day. My toes and fingers get chilled out there, and cold fingers are clumsy. My work suffers. I have a propane heater out there, but it smells awful and gives me a headache, so I try to work in the cold unless temps are really low.

I'm about halfway done with the project I'm working on for an Olympia Pediatric clinic. My friend Heather Taylor-Zimmerman is painting extensive, amazing murals on the ceilings and walls of the clinic, depicting jungles and oceans. Feltmaker Janice Arnold is making vines, animals and clouds that will be integrated into the space. I am creating glass-on-glass mosaic panes for the entryway and vines that will decorate pillars on the exterior. The idea is to make it a fun place for patients to go and to offset the anxiety kids feel when going to the doctor. It is going to be fantastic. One thing that amazes me is to visit the clinic and see how much Heather has accomplished with paint compared to my own progress in the studio. Mosaic is just incredibly painstaking.

In the meantime, I have holiday bazaars scheduled in Olympia in early December, so I'm working in the evenings to make inventory for those. Lately, it has been harder than ever to keep up my stamina. I've been exhausted, and all I want to do is relax and read or take a bath. But, I feel that I must keep making things every spare minute because we are counting on that income. Last night, I was cutting out stockings while making dinner, and we couldn't eat at the table because it is covered with fabric pieces.

Also, I am trying to get my books in order and apply for public art projects and keep marketing myself so that I have another commission after this one is finished. It usually takes most of a workday just to submit for a call for art, and I have only had success one time (in 2007 for a $600 stipend.) I know that I need to hire a photographer and spend a day going around to all of my former job sites to photograph the work in context and with that professional touch. When I finally do this, I might have a real shot at a modest public art project, but it is expensive.

I have found this to be the busiest time of year for me. I seem to get commissions in the Fall, at the same time that I need to build a stash of holiday stuff to sell. I should be posting items on Etsy, but that is yet more time photographing, formatting, and typing descriptions. I need an assistant!

I think my pumpkin is burning...

Introduction

I've been keeping an online journal through my yahoo account, and it was mainly intended to keep non-local friends and family updated, since we live so far out of the way. Eventually, it became more of a place to share my efforts at creating a sustainable life in the country, and running a home-based art business. Yahoo recently made a change, and I don't care for it. So here I am.

My husband and I bought 5 acres in the country near Olympia, WA in 2002. We couldn't afford anything close to town and wanted enough space to grow our own food and own goats. This property had a 1970 mobile home and outbuildings, a mix of forest, pasture, and wetland with a 30-foot waterfall dropping down to a little creek, and the surroundings are beautiful. It's all farms and State forest.

That fall, I became pregnant. I thought I would keep my part-time job at The Evergreen State College and that my life wouldn't change all that much. We had my daughter in the mobile home, in a birthing tub with midwives and two great friends present. It soon became clear that a return to work would not be easy. We don't have any family or friends nearby, and I could not imagine dropping my baby off at a daycare. Besides, we couldn't afford it. My husband is a teacher, and we have been scraping by until recently. I tried to take her to work, nursing her in a sling during staff meetings, pacing with her when she cried, struggling to get her to sleep (which she never did.)

When a question came up about the college budget and my position, I left. I tried to find other work at first, and did work as a Visitation Supervisor, which is a flexible job. But it was incredibly hard to find places to leave my baby at different times and different days each week, and after expenses, I found I earned about $300 per month. It wasn't worth it.

Around the same time, I was asked to to my first mosaic installation for a restaurant in Olympia. And not long after that, I was chosen by a jury to be the featured artist for Olympia's Spring ArtsWalk. I had also signed up for a business workshop offered through Enterprise 4 Equity, which is a non-profit that helps low income people create an effective business plan. Things came together, and I began working full-time as an artist.

So we have a small "hobby farm" in the country where we are learning to grow our own food. We raise chickens for eggs and turkeys for meat. We have five Nigerian Dwarf Goats that we have tried to milk, but have given up. They are sweet and they eat our weeds. We also have 2 cats, 3 dogs and a ferret. The goal for this year is to learn to preserve the food we harvest. In the past, we have just frozen what we could.

I just completed my largest commission yet, for an elementary school in Seattle. It took me 9 months, and I really got sick of doing it, but I was very happy the other day to receive payment for the job. I'm making just enough for us to do extra things, and for my daughter to take gymnastics and swim classes.

My work has an environmental focus, so I sell mainly at recycled art fairs. I use mostly salvaged materials. My reputation and skill has been steadily growing, though I am always aware that I have far to go. I now teach workshops, which brings in additional extra money now and then.

I will continue to write about being a mosaic artist, the environment, and the experience of trying to live sustainably by using less energy, growing our food, and finding innovative ways to reduce and reuse.