Saturday, November 29, 2008

Something Warm is Brewing

This morning I extracted the encaustic supply bins from my closet (now that's no small feat!) and embarked on a wax painting journey.

I wish I could report that my creating time was filled with inspiration and flow. I wish I could say I love the pieces I created today. I will say, though, that it was lovely to make a mess of the kitchen with art supplies and to use my powerful heat gun to burn in the wax (using that heat gun sure brings out the Athena warrior in me).

I guess it was just one of those days when the muse was sleeping off her wild partying from the night before. I kept trying to wake her up, but I heard snoring. (I don't know about you, but my muse has a bit of a snoring issue.)

In any case, I did create one piece that I am somewhat pleased with. I've titled it "Meeting at the Comb" for now:

Encaustic, 6" x 6"

It's amazing to me how pieces can evolve and change over time. Perhaps this piece above will change a bit more before it feels "done." Despite this morning's muse struggle, I must say that I have been quite prolific this fall. I suppose one morning of feeling a little lackluster is okay. After all, I do have many, many newer pieces that I am quite pleased to be matting and framing for my upcoming Art Show on December 11.

This art show is a meaningful one for me, for I am donating 50% of the proceeds from my original art, art cards, and art prints to the Kidney Cancer Association in honor of my dad who died of kidney cancer this past August. I would love to see you here, so please consider attending! There will be wine and food and art and jewelry (Kristin Stubbs, jewelry artist extraordinaire, will be joining me) and merriment and commemoration.

Click on this poster to view in a larger size:

And click here for the complete poster, which includes artist statements:

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

A Birthday Remembered

"Birthday No. 63," mixed media collage, 4" x 5"

Today my dad would have turned 63 years old. While it feels like my dad is frozen in time at 62, I like to imagine him turning 63. I like to imagine giving him another hot air balloon ride gift as we did when I was young. This time, though, I like to imagine that the balloon ride actually clears the tips of the trees and that the "champagne breakfast" consists of real champagne and some lovely pastries and fruit, instead of sparkling cider and wieners cooked over propane canisters. I like to imagine him rising higher and higher, so he can see the whole city -- lakes and parks and snaking roads. I like to imagine that he feels peace and lightness at such an altitude and that he is not scared. Not for one moment.