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Posts from the ‘imagination’ Category

Blogsence*

Romp, ©2013, H. Hunter, 19" x 18," Quilted cotton cloth

Romp, ©2013, H. Hunter, 19″ x 18,” Quilted cotton cloth

My apologies to any of you who may receive this twice. I was editing on 2 computers and accidentally pressed “Publish” before I was done. Here’s to “blogsence”!

I went over to my friend’s house Saturday for some studio time–playtime really. As we talked and caught up, she said that she hadn’t received any of my posts for a while and thought that perhaps there was something wrong with the delivery system.

“Um, well, no, not exactly. Its just that I haven’t been writing them.” As I was leaving later that afternoon, my friend pointed out her calendar to me. I thought she might want to show me an amazing picture. What she pointed to was a series of red dots, extending from the end of April and into the beginning of May.

Pictures that she’s sold? I wondered. No, it turned out that these were days that she planned to keep free with no obligations. That explains my blogsence* perfectly. I was taking time to catch up with myself around the edges of work and family.

I also threw myself into an exciting online quilting class with Lisa Call: “Cutting and Piecing Without a Ruler,”

I loved it from start to finish. Lisa’s critiques were supportive, and gave me great ideas about how I could build upon what I had learned in class.

Although we pieced a number of projects in class, I didn’t quilt them, that is, I didn’t add batting and backing and stitch the whole sandwich together. In fact, I’ve rarely stitched a quilt sandwich and am reluctant to do so.

Gathering courage in hand, I put together a kind of sampler piece that I could practice on. I read various instructions, gazed through books with images of completed quilts and began.

After quilting the first few sections, I was convinced that I would never do anything like this again. Eventually, I got a rhythm going and it was fun, and the action of pushing the fabric through the machine, turning it at regular intervals and watching the pattern emerge was soothing.

By the time I finished, I was ready to begin again (this reminds me of when I gave birth to my first child and was so thrilled by meeting him, I was ready to do it all over again…no, I know it’s a stretch to compare childbirth to quilting, but it was pretty cool.)

I decided to take detail shots of the piece above and divide it into roughly 4 sections, exploring the possibilities inherent in each one. So that’s what I’m doing. My iron is ready: full steam ahead!

Romp, detail

Romp, detail

*Blogsence: Absence from blogs and blog writing

Staying Open…in the Studio

Mending Wall 6, ©2012, 38" x 12," Paper, fabric, watercolor on panel

Mending Wall 6, ©2012, 38″ x 12,” Paper, fabric, watercolor on panel

When I began this piece, I wanted to find a new way to work with triptychs. My love for the magical number 3 and Amish quilts stimulated the idea of a 3 panel piece using a traditional 9 patch block worked out in paper instead of fabric.

I extended the idea of the botanical blocks from previous pieces, but combined them with pieces of children’s school work. I combed the streets around my house for fallen pieces of paper and other wrinkled script that caught my eye.

The piece was created block by block, assembled, and then reworked so that the blocks harmonized.

As I stare at it now, several months later, I’m struck by the contrast between the squares containing children’s numbers, letters, drawings, and the more adept collage squares.

It reminds me of trying to balance the improvisational demands of practicing art therapy in a busy urban hospital with my more considered collage work in the studio.

I also thought about the concept of “blending” in the Japanese martial art, Aikido. The Japanese character ai, or, harmony, can be thought of as blending energies or forces. The principle of harmony is to avoid conflict by transforming the energy of opposition into a new form of resolution. That’s what I’m working towards.

With this in mind, I’ve made a big decision. I backed out of our city’s Open Studio.

Recently, two close family members were diagnosed with serious autoimmune disorders. There have been a lot of doctor’s appointments and shifting of priorities, and for now, I need to keep my concerns closer to home.

It’s funny; in encircling my wagons, I’ve actually spent more time in the studio and without the concerns of showing it, I’ve had more energy to explore new directions in my work.

Initially I was very sad; about the huge changes that illness can bring and the loss of opportunity. But for a long time, I’ve wanted to learn new techniques, take classes in art and design, without the concurrent pressure to produce for shows. If what they say is true, that when one door closes,  a new window opens, I think I’ve found that opening.

Opening a Studio

Mending Wall 5, ©2012, 12" x 12," Watercolor, fabric, paper on panel

Mending Wall 5, ©2012, 12″ x 12,” Watercolor, fabric, paper on panel

I recently googled the history of Open Studios and discovered that the open studios, called salons, were started by a certain Madame De Scudéry in Paris. It was a place where intellectuals, writers and artists gathered for discussions.

More recent open studios, the article said, focus on the creative act of making and sharing. And while that definition applies to studios where people are making art in a common space, I like it: a place that focuses on making and sharing.

And that’s exactly what I’m going to do April 12 and 13th, when along with 23 other artists, I’m going to be part of an open studio tour sponsored by our local Davis, CA gallery, the Artery.

I’m taking on the challenge because for a long time, I’ve really wanted to share my artwork in an intimate space; it’s intimate work and the more impersonal walls of a gallery don’t always do it justice. It looks good in a gallery, but in the home, it looks great.

When one of my friends pitched the idea to me, I bit.

I also decided to extend the open studio into my blog and for the next several posts, I’ll introduce you to some of the work I’ll be sharing in April.

The piece above is part of a series I worked on over the last summer. It’s called Mending Wall, after a poem by Robert Frost.

Before I built a wall I’d ask

What I was walling in or out

And to whom I was like to give offense

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

That wants it down.

In the series, I explore how I put up walls with people, when I take them down and under what conditions. Walls are needed in life; the trick is to figure out what to do when.

The process of putting the text and image together was not unlike building a wall. I used watercolor paintings of jade plants, which I had cut into squarish “stones” and blocks of text from some papers I’d found at my father’s: 50 year old documents from his career as an English professor.

Lest I sound like I’m still in an English lit. class, I have to tell you that when I made the collage, none of this was conscious. I was spurred on by sensation and under the spell of memory.

Pocket Change Unfolds

Several days ago, I found a rather large white box in the mail. It was bulging at the seams and when I opened it, out poured a tantalizing array of envelopes covered with stamps from far away lands. Artist Trading Cards for the 6 Degrees of Creativity Pocket Change swap!

Cards from Australia by Jade Herriman

Cards from Australia by Jade Herriman

I invited my sister Amelia over to help with the swap; why not spread the fun? An amazing afternoon unfolded as we carefully unpacked the cards and laid them out on the tables, marveling as each envelope revealed new treasure.

ATx.PC3

Pocket Change cards laid out and ready to be find their way to new homes.

Oh my gosh, how we were going to choose which cards went where? Amelia took on wrapping the cards; that meant I was going to do the selection. I decided “intuitive” was the way to go. Once I stopped worrying (and honestly there wasn’t much of that), the cards seemed to sort themselves.

Cards on envelopes, ready to wrap up and send...

Cards on envelopes, ready to wrap and send…

During the time that the cards were laid out, there was an air of expectation and exuberance in the studio, but most of all,  all of the love and caring that had gone into this awesome effort.

A selection of cards headed to Canada

4 cards headed to Canada

There was no way I could have anticipated the sheer creative goodness shining forth. Thank you so much to Beth Rommel for gathering  envelopes from every corner of the world and creating parcels for Gretchen and I to sort and swap. (The three of us each sorted about 50 packages!) Thank you also to Gretchen Miller without whom, 6 Degrees of Creativity  and Pocket Change would not exist. And thank you especially to every artist and agent of change who participated–I look forward to hearing your stories.

ATx.PC9

Artist Trading cards sharing heart and inspiration…you can see part of Sara Roizen’s card in the background, Susanna Suchak and Leighanne Schneider’s tucked in the middle and Judy Shintani’s in the foreground.

The Power of Inventory

Polihali Beach, ©2007, 9" x 12," handmade paper and raffia

Polihali Beach, ©2007, H. Hunter, 9″ x 12,” handmade paper and raffia

This past week I’ve been looking for the origins of my own artwork so I can create a database, in other words, I’m doing an inventory.

The word “inventory” is close to invention, don’t you think? One dictionary says that it comes “from the Latin inventus, pp. of invenire “to find” (see invention).”  I’ve tried to do this “finding” in the past and always abandoned the effort, overwhelmed by what feels like the task of herding cats.

Tropical Reverie, ©2010, H. Hunter, fabric, 9" x 12," paper on paper

Tropical Reverie, ©2010, H. Hunter, fabric, 9″ x 12,” paper on paper

I tried to keep an open mind though, even as I asked myself  “when did I create this picture? And what was I thinking about anyway?” I must have wondered about all this in less than a whisper,  because my husband abruptly asked, “why are you doing this?”

Good question–one that deserves an answer.

As each year collects itself like a growing season, bringing in a harvest, artwork accumulates. The more it piles up, the less I remember about its origins. So, I realized, in an odd way, I was rewriting my own history as an artist.

In Spite Of, ©2009, 12" x 12" x 2," paper, fabric, foil on panel

In Spite Of, ©2009, H. Hunter, 12″ x 12″ x 2,” paper, fabric, foil on panel

It was a surprising thought, one that buoyed me up and reminded me of something else my husband had said earlier: “You’re sewing yourself into the universe everyday. Otherwise you won’t feel a part of it and you’ll be out of it, ill at ease and maybe even dis-eased.”

A wise person, my husband. I thought he’d nailed it.

Since then, what began as something of a forced march has turned into a wonderful wild scavenger hunt–one requiring the detective skills of a Sherlock Holmes as clues pop up in the oddest places; a misplaced file, photographs hidden in plain sight on i-photo or a picture hanging in the corner of our meti-dia-beading (short for meditation, dining and beading) room.

It may take me another two months to complete this, but at the end, I imagine that I’ll have a good list of “what is found”–from Medieval Latin inventorium–and the pictures to prove it.

Mending Wall 6, detail, ©2012, H. Hunter, 12" x 38," watercolor, paper on panel

Mending Wall 6, detail, ©2012, H. Hunter, 12″ x 38,” watercolor, paper on panel

Mending Walls and Making Change

ATCs on parade

ATCs on parade

At some point in their studies, art therapy students discover the “media continuum.” On this continuum, media are placed along along an invisible line moving from point A to point B line according their degree of safety and control.

A lead pencil at one end of the continuum offers a feeling of familiarity and control–and on the the opposite end spectrum, oil paint offers an unwieldy challenge. If you don’t watch out, you might find your client who has difficulty with impulse control spraying the paint all over your office walls.

The key is to match the both the media and the intervention to the needs of the client. To non-art therapists, this might sound theoretical and over cautious.

It’s not. In my very first art therapy bereavement group many years ago,  an angry adolescent punched a hole in the wall of the hospital in which I was working; his reaction to my misdiagnosis of media and intervention. I hadn’t read the signals and had asked the group to attempt something that put this young man face to face with his grief far too early in his grieving process.

If I hadn’t been convinced about the medium continuum before, if my teachers’ stories seemed only to be tall tales, I became  a convert and I’ve employed it ever since.

I use the same principle in my own art. When I’m feeling stretched thin, I stick with materials over which I have more control. When I’m feeling expansive, my work and my materials grow too.

Right now, I’m in the process of sanding the panel edges of my “Mending Wall” series. I love this series, but I don’t like finish work. It feels like all the fun and discovery is over and I’m doing the visual equivalent of balancing a checkbook.

Mending Wall 1,© 2012, H. Hunter, 12" x 12," paper, watercolor on panel

Mending Wall 1,© 2012, H. Hunter, 12″ x 12,” paper, watercolor on panel

Recently, I decided to intersperse the task of sanding with our 6 Degrees of Creativity “Pocket Change” project. My deal for myself is: finish one sanded panel–make one artist trading card.

I’ve arranged the artist trading cards, in various stages of completion, at a discreet distance from where I sand. I can see them while I work, their bright colors shining, offering the possibility of almost instant gratification.

Mending Wall 1, edges sanded and stained

Mending Wall 1, edges sanded and stained

I’m beginning to love sanding. By creating a new rhythm: hard medium/easy medium/hard medium, I’m finding patience and sanding is leading to new ideas for my next series. I love the smooth, variegated surface of the wood.

Meanwhile, artist trading cards gather at the end of the table, ready to be mailed off for Beth Rommel, collector and distributor for our Pocket Change project.  Gretchen Miller, Beth and I have concocted this project to focus on the power of creating change through making something small (in the form of artist trading cards) and through engaging in simple acts of creative kindness.

You get the picture–help yourself, help others–it’s not too late to join us! The deadline is tomorrow,  Tuesday, January 15. For more information on the exchange, click here.

photo-2 2

I also invite to share stories about your own media continuum experiences–whether you called it that–or maybe just “those darn pastels!”

Pocket Change: Or, Small (Creative) Acts Create Meaningful Change

“Even after they are cut down, a sprout may be taken from them and planted in another place,
and they begin to grow again.” —Mishna

Pocket Change, Badge created by Gretchen Miller

Pocket Change, Badge created by Gretchen Miller

Like a lot of people I know, I’ve been searching for meaning among the rubble of recent events; both inside our country and out of it.

Though it is easier but necessary, to critique what is going wrong in our schools, our homes, and our countries, I wanted to stretch a little and find a project which contributes to the good in a small but meaningful way.

It began with an idea from my friend, Beth Rommel, who wanted  begin the new year with something positive, something with art, something with others.

In collaboration with Gretchen Miller and myself, we concocted Pocket Change, hosted by 6 Degrees of Creativity.

Pocket Change’s intention is to focus on the concept of creating change through making something small (in the form of artist trading cards) to exchange with one another, as well as to encourage simple acts of creative kindness with others.

I decided to try out making a few of the cards. They were fun to create–simple, without encumbrance. They remind me of mandarin oranges. You pick one up, peel it and pop it whole, or in a few sections, into your mouth and suck out the sweetness.

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Teach, ©2013, 2.5″ x 3.5,” Collage

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Blossom, ©2013, 2.5″ x 3.5,” Collage

photoPocket Change is all about how simple and small acts can create and instill kindness, gratitude, and change.  Think about the power of your mini artworks as a means to express and share a positive image, message, or intention with others (and the world!) that can make a difference, bring hope, or inspiration.

-Gretchen Miller

It reminds me of the Mindful Studio Practice that I offered as part of 6 Degrees of Creativity 2. The beauty of making artist trading cards is the opportunity for quiet moments in which your imagination can stretch.

But wait, there’s more: the added bonus of sending these miniatures off so that someone else will benefit from your practice.

Please join us for some pocket size creative goodness and kindness to share with one another and others!  The deadline to sign up for the ATC exchange is January 15.  Learn more about the exchange details and how to get involved on the 6 Degrees of Creativity blog.

Good News: Art Therapy and Healthcare just published!

Holding up my copy of Art Therapy and Healthcare for close inspection!

Lately, my mind has been wandering; wondering what it would be like to attend my 40th high school reunion, and whether it would be fun or feel like torture. Meanwhile our fall Young Adult Bereavement Art Group (YABAG) was advancing in fits and starts and now has finally fallen into a rhythm, much as leaves progress into their rich autumn colors.

Sometimes it takes a while for a group to coalesce, like the leaves of particular trees turning at different times. In a group where participants have suffered devastating loss (all loss is devastating, but some circumstances can bring additional trauma to the bereaved), people need time to make sense of their lives going forward.

My colleague and I wondered what was going on; perhaps it was how we were leading the group, but we reminded ourselves we’d done this many times before with the same curriculum and it had worked.

As if to remind us of this, two thick cardboard envelopes arrived in the campus mail, one addressed to me and the other to my colleague. I can’t tell you if he ripped his envelope open, but had I been there when they arrived, I would have!

Checking out our chapter on “YABAG.”

Inside the brown husk of wrapper lay the fruit of our labors for the last year; a copy of Cathy Malchiodi’s edited and recently published book: Art Therapy and Healthcare, containing our chapter on the young adult bereavement art group. When I saw the cover, a richly colored oil pastel nautilus drawn by Cathy, I felt such a swelling of pride; as if some unspoken, barely imagined dream had come to pass.

I’ve had a chance to cozy up with it and I’m looking forward to reading through the many chapters written by art therapists across the country and world. I’m reminded of a colored construction paper banner that hung in my public library as a child. The letters read: “Come, journey with a book.” I know I will.

Take 2: Palliative Care and Paper Swaps (The Whole Story)

Paper Offering for Missouri Artist, Alies

Our pediatric department is beginning a pediatric palliative care team and as we lay the groundwork, we’re introducing the idea of integrative therapies to our pediatricians.

It’s not a new idea. My colleague Kathy Lorenzato, a music therapist, has been teaching and practicing Reiki, a hands-on healing technique, for over 10 years, and I have joined her for the last 4 years. As far as integrative therapies go inside the hospital, at the moment, we’re it.

With this in mind, the two of us were invited to speak to our pediatric physicians on staff about art therapy, music therapy and Reiki. I made a PowerPoint to explain the use of art in palliative care and put together a resource list on other integrative therapies.

It sounds simple on the surface, but as my husband noted, trying to explain the value of therapies whose effects cannot be quantified, to a group of science oriented folks, made me more than a bit nervous.

That’s where my own art therapy came into play. Over the last couple of weeks, I participated in a Paper Swap organized by Gretchen Miller of 6 Degrees 2. I mailed my offering to an artist living in Missouri and looked forward to receiving an envelope of my own in return.

Days passed while I worked on the PowerPoint and my anxiety rose accordingly. Raised in a family with a healthy number of doctors, I’ve had some run ins with scientific minds and I’ve always felt myself lacking. Although art therapy requires a certain amount of intellectual engagement, I depend more heavily on my intuition, letting passion do the heavy lifting.

One day last week at the peak of my fear, a large padded envelope arrived, postmarked Australia. I opened it carefully and sifted through the contents; feathery tissue, textured rice papers, leaves of patterned scrapbooking pages and a packet of gaily colored buttons.

A tantalizing package from Beth in Australia

I considered the colors and shapes sitting on my lap and something shifted internally. As I touched the papers, taking in the colors, patterns and textures,  my fear eased. I realized that “right here, right now” on my couch I was experiencing the tangible results of art therapy.

I went into the presentation 2 days later with an insight. Rather than seeing the doctors as a group of individuals whose opinions I wanted to change, I saw an opportunity to heal the split between my own thinking and feeling, between the intellectual and the artistic.

I stood on the podium, praying the memory stick and my own memory would work. As I looked at the slide of a patient’s artwork projected behind me, I remembered the joy I felt working with him–but I also remembered the research, the effort that others had gone to, in order to document the effectiveness of art therapy. Research that is necessary for art therapy to be accepted into the treatment team’s fold.

The presentation went well. The physicians were attentive, and even better, I felt the old split inside me being carefully drawn back together. When our talk ended, we gave a Reiki demonstration. Up there on the dais, Kathy, one of the pediatric residents, our Child Psychiatrist and I offered Reiki treatments to four doctors who came forward. I felt the tide beginning to turn.

21 Days

Pt. Reyes, ©2012, H. Hunter, 8″ x 8,” Collage,

I’ve been having a lot of fun lately with 6 Degrees 2, an on-line workshop. I’m one of the instructors for this nourishing soup of activities and I’m also a student. As soon as the class descriptions were posted, I promptly signed up for the other 5 workshops.

But I decided to begin with my own: Still Point in a Changing World: Creating a Mindful Studio Practice. (Or, 21 Days, 21 Lesssons.)

When I initially conceived of the course, I thought about the many times I’ve heard an artist sigh and wish that s)he spent more time in the studio. From my own struggles with this predicament, I knew there must be a way and I pondered how to come up with internal bearings, a means to orient participants, over and over toward their work space. Perhaps even to a place of stillness where they might find their heart’s desire.

Little did I know that I was drawing my own map. When I wrote out the course, I was feeling lost and stuck in a barren landscape. Try as I might, I could not get a new series going. Small starts led nowhere or into cul-de-sacs.

In order to build a structure for the class,  I paired a poem or quote for each day with a corresponding directive for artwork. Each person can choose whatever they want from that combination and take off from there.

As I make my way through “21 Days,” my 21 have expanded into many more. I begin with one simple watercolor and then let the guidelines for that day govern the fate of the rest. I’ve been hovering between Days 9 and 13 for sometime and the collages I’m tackling are captivating me.

Constant slow movement teaches us to keep working

Like a small creek that stays clear,

That doesn’t stagnate, but finds a way

Through numerous details, deliberately.

–Rumi

I began the course myself to test the prompts I’d written. I didn’t assume that following them would lead me in my own new direction. I’m profoundly grateful to Gretchen Miller for inviting me to take part in this workshop and I’m moved by the power that connecting with like-minded individuals has to provoke change.

So, I’m curious. Have you taken up a new direction this summer? I’d love to hear about it.