Art

Water View for a Landlocked Garden

Moving to the East Side of Providence has wonderful perks.  But like everything else in life there are trade-offs.  For avid gardner Sally Shwartz it was a challenging one.  Her previous home had a water view that was a vital element in her garden design.  Now, instead of an ever-changing palette of sky-colored moving water, her backyard ended with a poorly maintained peeling brick wall belonging to her neighbor. My 3 inch by 10 inch image of the Slocum River became the source for her daily dose of "blue." Wistfully she moved the little panel from the top of her computer to all the windows looking out on her garden. 

Out of the blue -- no pun intended -- the solution suddenly became obvious: she needed an image measured in feet not inches, and one that really lived outside. Like me, Sally likes to think outside the box, and when I proposed the idea of creating a large-scale fine art image using billboard technology she jumped on board.  Having printed several of my Art Drive fish on weather tolerant material I was confident that we could get the color and quality needed. After a lot of careful planning, measuring and tweaking the blue tones, “River View” was installed. The three panels span 9 feet and they have transformed this Providence backyard. As the light changes throughout the day, the image changes with it - sometimes reflecting real clouds from above or the green light of new leaves moving in the wind.  At 9:30 on a cloudy evening, ambient city light makes the river glow as if the moon is shining on it….

I look forward to photographing it in each season.

The last panel goes up.

 

View from the deck.

 

No more ugly brick wall from the kitchen window.

The Moment of Truth

My was tripod precariously perched along the rocky and muddy stream edge and I was so engrossed in the scene unfolding in my lens that I failed to hear the pack of dogs coming to swim.  Most of them were a bit spooked by my presence and stopped on the bridge above me, but one young pup was beside himself with excitement.  He had found the biggest "fetch" ever – the 8 foot length of bamboo that was holding my botanic still life in the current.  It was the moment of truth.  I could protect my bamboo or my tripod, but not both.   Before the pup scored a total victory, the owner came down the trail and called him away, apologizing for his dog’s lack of appreciation for fine art photography.  

Some days I come home from the woods with good images, some days there is nothing to show for my time except a good story. But whatever the outcome, time spent watching the myriad of dramas unfolding in the moving water always makes me happy.

My Garden and Brook images begin with a walk around the garden.  I snip specimens for their lines, shape and color and bring them to moving water.  Yesterday’s bouquet and the October light was so beautiful I had to stop and compose some "dry" still life images.

Images from The Garden and Brook series will be on display at several shows between now and the year's end.  Check the Exhibitions page for details.

On the Streets of Philadelphia

Philadelphia has a long and rich history of public art.  On an early morning walk in the City Center I came across this mural that was very intriguing because it seemed to have so much depth. 

When I got up close I found that the texture comes from material that appears in different places to be either woven, crumpled, stitched or sculpted.

mural closeup2.jpg
muralcloseup1

Desktop Dreaming....

For several years I have wanted to create a calendar using images that convey the quiet beauty of the South Coast.  But rather than employ a traditional design I was determined to use a panoramic format. But try as I might – I could not make it work. So I decided to let Google be in the calendar business and instead I would make a "mini art gallery" of the seasons – a little desktop gift for the imagination. Freed from the constraints of days and dates, the images invite the viewer to daydream, to find art to suit the mood of the moment – to revel in the beauty of an October sky, to feel the winter quiet of a snowy day, or the hope of a spring crocus.

The Desktop Gallery: South Coast Seasons includes 12 scenes and a unique wooden display stand made by Andrew Peppard Furniture Design.  It will be available in my studio during the Art Drive, August 8 & 9, and in my Online Store

Desktop Gallery dimensions: 9” wide, 3” deep, 4” tall.

Digital DNA for Belissima Blue

If amino acids are the building blocks of life, single images or fragments of them are the DNA of composite images.  These are the building blocks of Belissima Blue, my contribution to the 2015 Art Drive School of Bodacious Bonito.

digitalDNA.jpg

This project begins in January when our local boatyard cuts 36 fish from marine plywood. The fish are approximately 4 feet x 2.5 feet, and this year it is a bonito, a member of the tuna family.  Each of the participating Art Drive artists starts with the same wooden form and each gives their fish a truly unique, artful and often fanciful interpretation.

During this long snowy winter, my naked fish sat patiently waiting while I worked on a fine art portfolio project.  In refining a body of work, there are always good pieces that just don’t make the final cut. Some of these "rejects" became Bellisima Blue. I imagined the luscious peachy opalescent tones from my moribund nautilus project as translucent fins. I knew that close-up shell curves could be re-purposed as the dividing line between head and body,  with hosta vein patterns for sinuous scales….

For me, creating a composite image like Belissima Blue is a process of love, learning and letting-go. To get from my vague starting notions of color, shape and texture to the final product requires hours of practice, reading, and watching tutorials. Often I learn a new technique and then have to abandon that element when it doesn’t fit with the evolving “canvas.”  Those opalescent tones that so attracted me had to become more blue and less peachy for visual unity.

BelissimaBlueInGarden.jpg

But here she is! – happily swimming in my garden until she starts her summer rounds visiting the Rhode Island Botanic Center and Westport River Winery.  All the details about the 2015 Bodacious Bonitos will be posted on the Art Drive website in June, including where they will be and how you can have one of your very own!

Meet "Lost in Reflections"

Not every winter flounder likes to bury itself in the sand.  Some get adventurous.  This one, like many guys, refused to ask for directions and found himself upstream in Destruction Brook where he got lost in the reflections. 

LostInReflections

 I first caught sight of him while studying ripple geometry last fall and over the early spring he became my "Flippin' Founder."  Kidding aside, since becoming a member of the Art Drive I have started to see fish shapes, scales and fin patterns everywhere.

Long ago I knew that this ripple would be a fin, and the image below would become a scale.

Of course there was a steep learning curve from imagination to execution- but what fun along the way!

The Garden and the Brook

The spring has been long and cool, giving me time to get ready for summer art shows.  I hope you will mark your calendar for the 2014 Art Drive on August 9th and 10th.  There will be new contemplative landscape imagery as well as work from a project I began last October.  Called the Garden and the Brook, it is an on-going study of natural forms found both in the botany of my garden and in the water world of streams, ponds and tidal flows.

As I try to shape this project with words, not images, it occurs to me how much Garden and the Brook reflects my life-long journey of learning to see.  Although I grew up along the ocean, it wasn’t until I became a river rafter in my thirties that I first heard the expression, “read the water.”  In the whitewater rafting world, reading water is how you chart a course through rapids. It is how you follow the “tongue” into the current, avoid standing waves and other obstacles, and catch the eddy when you want, rather than the eddy catching you. Decades later, along the gentle flow of an autumn stream, I found myself plotting courses for sticks and leaves through “rapids” created by elevation drops measured in inches rather than feet.  Here I was, once again reading the water.  But for the first time, I realized that the shapes and curves created by fluid dynamics and ripple geometry have their counterparts not only in the great rivers of the West, but also in my garden.  This is not a particularly original insight. But back when I learned to read water I knew nothing of gardening and, to me, botany was only a lab course. I never would have made the connection, never would have seen it.  At that point in my life I had no idea that “painting with plants” was something that would become such a great source of pleasure and inspiration. 

Today I am filled with gratitude for this gift of time to discover and see the world anew.

Here is a sneak peak of the Garden and the Brook.

 

 

Dartmouth Diebenkorn

A new landing for boats is under construction on the northside of the harbor here in town.  A rusty collection of steel plates have created a cofferdam-a dry area for construction of the dock supports.   The industrial feel is a bit jarring in the bucolic landscape of river and marsh.

Cofferdam before the sun hits.

Cofferdam before the sun hits.

But when the early morning light bounces of the plates into dead calm water the rusty reflections create an abstract art show that reminds me of Diebenkorn's Ocean Park Series.

Dartmouth Diebenkorn 1

Dartmouth Diebenkorn 1

Baskets - Form and Function

Last week my friend took us on a tour of the contemporary art galleries in Santa Fe's Railyard District. This area was formerly the blighted remains of the Atchison-Topeka and Santa Fe railroad yards.   After years of planning and community input a plan was created in 2000 to breathe new life into this neighborhood.  Today, the Railyard is a vibrant and lively neighborhood of parks, open space, art galleries, retail, and public service buildings that honor the railroad's industrial past. 

One of our first gallery stops was the TAI Gallery where works by Japanese bamboo artists were on display.  While some looked like baskets one could possibly use but wouldn't dare, other creations were strictly sculptures made from traditional bamboo basket-making materials.

The following Saturday I wandered through the Railyard again, this time stopping in the Fleamarket and the Artisan's Market where I met Ericka Eckerstrand, a totally different kind of basket-maker.  Eckerstrand has created a whole line of bags, baskets, and home accessories using vinyl outdoor fabric.   Her sturdy, flexible and waterproof baskets are artful and extremely functional.  The inspiration came to her while working in a shop that makes custom awnings.  As someone who has spent hours wandering the aisles of hardware stores looking for non-traditional uses of materials - sheetrock lathing for bird armatures, for example - her creativity just tickles my fancy. Not to mention the fact that her baskets are far more affordable than the lovely Japanese ones above.

Take a look and click on the pictures to visit Eckerstrand's  website.

Folding Baskets

Folding Baskets

Sleeves

Sleeves

Swatches of vinyl fabrics

Swatches of vinyl fabrics

Ben Ham

Looking through the tourist info about Charleston I saw an article about a gallery that had just opened and decided this was the one place I didn’t want to miss -- and boy was I glad.  I knew nothing about Ben Hamm until I read the article.  

Ben Ham Gallery, 416 King Street, Charleston, SC

Ben Ham Gallery, 416 King Street, Charleston, SC

Everything about the gallery space is simple and elemental. Scrubbed brick walls and gray fabric backdrops are nothing new in the gallery world.  But here, each backdrop was mounted on richly stained 4x4 columns that complemented the color of the olive wood frames used throughout.  The images on display were all large prints in sepia or black and white.  Hamm, like Ansel Adams, uses an 8x10 view camera, and develops his negatives in the darkroom.  But he then scans the negative and prints it digitally, allowing him to make huge prints up to 74 inches wide on fine art papers that show the detail and drama in ways that Ansel Adams could not do.  These images took my breath away.  The composition, the way he sees line, texture and form in the natural world is one that I aspire to.  It was exhilarating!

Low Country by Ben Hamm

Low Country by Ben Hamm

Ham's work is only sold as numbered, framed fine art pieces that start at $1800 so the only thing I could consider was his $75 book.  After hemming and hawing, I left without it, but inspired nonetheless.

The next morning while I was out wandering around Charleston, I thought about going back to buy it, but went back to the hotel instead.  There sitting on the bed was a beautifully wrapped copy of Ham’s book. David went back to the gallery and bought the book for me as a birthday present, making the curator promise not to sell me a copy if I should return on my own.  

A wonderful epilog indeed.

MOMA Moments

It still takes me aback, how many people are snapping photos in museums. Recently  at the Sargent Watercolor Exhibit at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts there was a woman religiously taking a photo of every painting with her ipad.   She appeared to be on a mission to photograph all 90+ paintings in the show.  It struck me as almost tragic that  while she was so busy concentrating on framing images with her ipad, she never directly experienced Sargent's rich, lush colors, marks or textures. 

But earlier this week, I confess I fell prey to the impulse to whip out my iphone camera in the Museum of Modert Art in New York.  No, I wasn't photographing the art hanging on the wall - just this priceless Frida moment:

Where is your eyebrow pencil when you need it?

Where is your eyebrow pencil when you need it?

And then there was this view across the atrium of a staircase - framed like a painting, an abstract still life.  God...I love my iphone....

MOMA_Stairs2_2044.jpg

Grassiela Gigantus 2.0

It was three years ago this November that I bought my first digital SLR and made a commitment to seriously reenter the world of photography.  What spurred me to finally plunk down the big bucks for the camera, extra lens and all the requisite doodads was Grassiela.  She is not a graceful muse with a lovely Spanish lilt to her voice, or even a photographer.  Grassiela is an obsession, a six-foot hummingbird.  

It all started with a trip to the DeCordova Museum Sculpture Garden. Up 25 feet in the trees was a school of 3-foot long metal fish, swimming in a circle.  These fish took up residence in my imagination and would not leave.

"I have tall trees in my yard," I said to myself.  "They need some creatures. How had I not noticed this before?"  The fact that I had never made a piece of sculpture in my life was totally irrelevant.  I bought a bag of pipe cleaners and started thinking about armatures.

Seedheads

Seedheads

And then I broke my foot in several places. So I spent a good part of the summer, watching hummingbirds flit about and through the ornamental grasses around my deck.  When the seed heads on the miscanthus emerge, their soft forms hold delicate patterns of maroon, grey and brown tones that make me think of gorgeously rich Italian wool suiting fabric.  This is what I wanted on my bird, on my obsession.  I wanted her clothed in beautiful warm tones of autumn grass.

 

So I began gathering grasses of many types, colors and textures and letting them dry.  A cardboard prototype was created and after many hours of cruising the aisles at Home Depot I decided to build the armature out of sheet rock lathing.  It is sturdy, flexible and cheap.  My smart husband made me buy a good pair of gloves and wire cutters and I was off and running. 

Cars were banished from the garage, which became my studio.  With all of my old rock and roll albums playing loudly on my iPod, I was in a state of complete happiness with a look David coined as Debby Demento. Each day I was figuring out how to solve new problems.  And each day, my grasses continued their natural progression from smooth sweet patterns to wild "poofiness" so they could fly away.  But I was not deterred. Thousands of feet of fishing line later; we hoisted her in the trees.  And while she didn't look much like my original idea, I was proud of my first attempt.

In the intervening years, I did the research I should have done and learned how to dry grasses so they maintain their soft shape and part of their lovely color patterns.  I learned how to use floral dyes so I could create a ruby throat of miscanthus.  This November, Grassiela 2.0 took flight.  She has a warm brown undercoat of burlap and her color and texture more closely approximate my dream.  The top and underside of the wings have different patterns and textures that utilize the seed heads and the stalks and there is still much to learn.

Ruby Throat

Ruby Throat

But what does this all have to do with photography?  How did a giant grass hummingbird propel me into photography? At different points in time cameras had been an important part of my life and work.  But they were always tools used for documenting. Photography was an adjunct to storytelling, a journalist's tool. Grassiela was strictly a creative impulse, about making art, something I had never done outside of a required school project.  Once she took flight I knew I could pick up a camera again and use it to make something very different.  Grassiela gave me the courage to believe that with time, patience, practice and study I could learn to make art with a camera.

Grassiela Gigantus 2.0

Grassiela Gigantus 2.0