Virgo Goes Back to Basics

Last week I wrote about my desire to strip my work back to basics as my friend Beth suggested (or, as she put it, "how about just painting something you want to keep?")  I wanted to go in a new direction, but wasn't sure how to get going. Being an ex-multitasker but practical Virgo, I was also thinking about how to come up with new work for an upcoming exhibit. I cleared up my studio, (always a good first step), reminded myself that I could keep whatever I made, and began. I put all my work in process up on the wall and decided to work on each one only as long as I wanted, so that I could flit from one to another much like the hummingbirds outside in my garden. What fascinates me now, a week later, is that by giving myself permission to keep the work, a strange paradox occurred. I was able to free myself of "Ms. Practical"  and instead, a more romantic, fanciful and humorous side of me found her voice. By the end of the week, I had accomplished more in a playful way than my alter ego, Ms Practical could ever have. Here is one of the pieces that emerged: April Rose, ©Hannah Klaus Hunter, 2010

Branding My Shoes

I decided to kick off the my week of "working for keeps" by taking a risk in my art therapy practice. Recently, I had the opportunity to work with a young patient of about 13. Her nurse came up to me in the hall and lightly catching me by the arm, said "Adelle wants to paint her tennis shoes."  "Shoes hmmm?" I always enjoy a challenge like this in the midst of hospital hustle and bustle.  "What would I need to paint some tennis shoes, Converse cotton canvas to be precise?" I thought fast.

I would need:
•some acrylic paint thinned slightly in a variety of colors
•2 (at least) emesis basins (those kidney shaped bowls that are standard hospital issue.)
•several toothbrushes. Raid the supply room.
•What to do about the floor? Grab a plastic isolation gown and some medical tape. Spread it out like a tarp, and tape the arms and bottom firmly to the linoleum floor.

Adelle and I hunkered down on the floor and I experimented with my flick and spray techniques. She didn't have much experience in this area, but caught on quickly, expertly flicking the first layer of yellow drops on her orange shoes. A shy tween, she was hesitant at first, especially because our activity attracted the interest of the residents and the nurses who came in and out of her room and couldn't resist asking the obvious "What are you doing?" She smiled and flicked her toothbrush, spraying flecks of yellow. I was impressed. The shoes were looking great and with an additional layer of red and cerulean blue, they appeared as if a professional had created them. Which got me to thinking. Most likely Adelle (not her real name) had a lot more experience with Internet shopping than I and more than likely, Converse was marketing just such a shoe. I went home and checked it out on my laptop. Sure enough, there was an option to "make" your own shoe". I spent a bit of time changing the colors and patterns on my virtual shoe, but in the end, concluded that doing it in the flesh was  better.  I searched around the house, looking for a pair of my daughter's old Converse tennies to spray. Too late, I remembered that they'd gone to Goodwill in a paper sack. What to do? The answer came to me this morning from my friend and coworker Janelle (her real name) while we were sitting together. She stared down at my worn Dansko clogs (standard hospital wear) and noted the multiple flecks of white paint on one of them. "You ought to collage those" she said "you know, create your own brand." "A beautifully painted pair of clogs", definitely a keeper of an idea. I'll be painting, collaging and posting. Care to join me anyone?

Back to Basics

Have you ever had that experience where you try to sort out what part of your art is driven by the desire to "show and sell"--and what part is just you, pure and simple? (As if one could easily separate those parts.) I'm at that point in my collage work. Just for right now, I want to strip my work down to basics. I want to remove the glaze of "made for exhibition." In order to figure out a plan, I spent an hour in conversation with my friend Beth Rommel. Beth lives in Florida and we met in Alyson Stanfield's Artbiz Blastoff course where we discovered we had the right mix of things in common; two twenty something children, a certain whimsical bent in our artwork, and the same intense commitment to art that we brought to raising children. Beth, always the mistress of new ideas, came up with one that I'm going to give a trial run."How about just painting something you want to keep?" she asked. As she said this, I saw myself at eleven, crouched down on a creek bank in back of our house, digging out clay and discovering that earth clings to itself and can be shaped into vessels. It's that purity of discovery that I plan to pursue. Stay posted. Literally.

Generating Ideas

How do we come up with ideas? Where do they come from? Today our assignment in the Blog Triage class is to come up with at least 20 ideas about which we can blog. In the spirit of sharing that is the hallmark of social networking I decided to write them down here, in my blog, and share them with all of you. I have only one proviso: if you want to write about any of them yourselves, PLEASE GO AHEAD! These are ideas that I am curious about and either want to tackle, or, just as much, read someone else's take on them. And if you think about it, no two people are going to write about the same subject the same way.

So here goes. Top of my list this morning:
•1) The Middle Age Brain and Art. I just listened to Terry Gross interview Barbara Strauch on "The Surprising Strengths of the Middle Aged Brain. How does this affect art making? How many of us can relate to this?
•2) Taking an artist's retreat for a day
•3) Creating an artist's retreat for a group of like minded artists
•4) Going to an artists' retreats in the Western United States (can you sense a theme developing here?)
•5) Working green: finding and using sustainably made art supplies.
•6) Taking a tour through a local artist's studio and writing about it.
•7) Interviewing my artist friends (you know who you are!)
•8) Asking one of these same friends to interview me (I would love this because I love questions.)
•9)  Interviewing a local art therapist in private practice and looking at what an art therapist can offer an artist.
•10) How to turn your ideas for classes into a reality privately or very publicly. (Working on the latter!)
•11) Creating art programs for underserved populations.
•12) Choosing a medium I love and arranging to tour an artists' studio who works in this medium. I would love to tour a mosaic artist's space and a jeweler's (Lynn and Tracey, are you listening?).
•13) Blogging about our local open studio tour.
•14) Blogging about an exhibition in the making--I've already got mine picked: an art quilters exhibit that will open in 2011. I haven't started on my pieces yet so this makes perfect grist for the mill.
•15) My transformation this summer into a still life painter for an upcoming exhibit.
•16) What do you do when you know you need to go in a new direction, but you're not sure how to get going?
•17) New ways to incorporate art making into the fabric of your life.
•18) How to create a portable studio anywhere you go.
•19) How to incorporate my computer into my artwork without it staging a hostile takeover.
•20) How to fit art making into smaller blocks of time.
That's me in the picture above trying to figure all of this out!

Rx for Weary Artist: Art Opening

Have you ever felt after a long day of encouraging other people to make art ("yes, you can!") that all you wanted to do is go home, crawl into bed and pull the covers over your head? Um hmmm. I know you have. Yesterday, I found a different remedy. After freshening up, downing a pita pizza, I headed out with my sister to the Artery, our gem of a cooperative gallery. Our styles of approaching a gallery could not be more different. My sister loves to spend time looking at each artist's work (and at the Artery there's much to see) while I behave like a red tail hawk, ricocheting from one wall to another, looking for something that speaks to me and all the while, comparing, contrasting and commenting. Out of necessity last night I slowed down. I sipped my lemonade and I discovered a feast for the eyes. As I slowly wandered through, taking in intricate strands of wire jewelry,  a gorgeous raku amphora and the ceramic ware of someone who truly adores cats, I ran into a number of friends. What surprised me (a confirmed introvert), was how much I enjoyed these small snippets of conversation. It was as if, by slowing down, each of these meetings became its own small piece of ephemeral art. I think I'm going to try this scrip more often! Artwork by Melissa Wood, copyright, 2010