Gate Series

Color field painters (like me) aim to use color to evoke an emotional response from the viewer, hopefully creating a meditative or spiritual effect. 

While color is the vehicle for this series, the concept deals with being liminal. “Liminal” comes from the Latin word “limen” for “threshold.” When standing in a threshold of a doorway, we are neither here or there, not in the past and not yet arriving into the future.  We are in transition, which can also be a time of heightened creativity.  When confronted with the unknown, we have more openness to new ideas. We can have our best creative moments when we are liminal. I am using the gate motif to symbolize liminality.

A quote from the artist Robert Henri: "The object isn't to make art, it's to be in that wonderful state which makes art inevitable."

I am a bit fascinated by all the avenues our human creativity takes us, and how throwing ourselves into a liminal state can increase that creativity.

“Gold Gate” colored pencil on museum board, mounted on panel, 24 x 16 inches. Two detail images show the strokes & texture.

Angst and the Studio

I have been filled with angst ever since a convicted felon started working in an oval shaped office. It has been difficult for me to be creative in the studio when thousands of lives are being affected by despicable acts. To get myself going again, I started up from where I left off: a “portal” series. My fragile steps back into my creative space have been necessary for self-care. These pieces will, hopefully, move me forward, and help me find my creative voice again. We all need the arts. I cannot stop, even when it is difficult.

Earlier “Portal Series” pieces. Each 12 x 8 inches.

Picking up where I left off, the next “Portal Series,” each is 12 x 8 inches, colored pencil on museum board, mounted to archival panel.

Starting Fresh

A fresh start….

I have never had an “art catastrophe” happen to me. My fellow artists know what I mean. When the kiln is opened to find something exploded. When the gallery staff opens the crates of shipped glass platters to find they each shattered in half somewhere over the ocean. My catastrophe, unknown to me at the time, was when I decided to try Golden’s Waterborne Varnish with UVLS. I followed the directions. The artwork hung and dried on my studio wall for four months. When the pieces were stored in the gallery’s stash, the bubble wrap stuck to the surface leaving bubble wrap texture permanently in the surface. Pieces were ruined. The only option was to cut them up and put them in the garbage.

Now… a fresh start. Unrelated to the catastrophe, I decided to use Ampersand’s Hardboard as the backing to my next pieces. I bought myself this fancy battery powered jig saw to cut the shapes.

I use a fine gauge saw blade - so fine that sanding is not necessary. It’s kind of fun. The panels are museum grade, and I still use museum glue (neutral ph) to adhere the museum board to the panel. Then, I’m ready to choose a palette of colors and get started.

The panels max in size at 24x36 inches. This is slightly smaller than my previous max size of 32x40, but I am ready to work a little smaller. I’m still in the thinking and sketching phase. I’m almost ready to get started, and I will never use that varnish again!

Portal and Vessel

I have been thinking about the artist Richard Serra lately.  He recently passed away.  I feel a sense of loss due to being in awe of his work.  His monumental sculptures delight me with their scale, lovely curves, sense of space, and calm.  Walking through one of his installations conjures reactions in me that I can find no words to express, and yet they speak a universal language.

We all know this feeling. 

Author Patrick Bringley in “All the Beauty in the World” expresses this as, “A work of art tends to speak of things that are at once too large and too intimate to be summed up, and they speak of them by not speaking at all.”  And - “What was beautiful in the painting was not like words, it was like paint - silent, direct and concrete, resisting translation even into thought. As such, my response to the painting was trapped inside me, a bird fluttering in my chest.”

As an artist, I am in a quandary with how to instill those reactions in my viewers.  If I cannot define it with words, then how can I possibly turn around and create it?

The first time I felt I came close was with “Blue Two.”  I have actually sold two of these, and continue to delight in my own reaction when I get to see them in person from time to time.  I still react in the same manner, with no words to describe the reaction.  There is a boldness in the statement, but what is it?

“Portal and Vessel” colored pencil on museum board, 40x58 inches

This piece, “Portal and Vessel” is the same for me. It has a presence – in person. The details of strokes and color have more impact in person than from this jpeg that condenses color information.

The title refers back to this same concept of not being able to define that quality, that indescribable reaction.  The piece hopes to be both a portal while also being a vessel that contains the ingredients.

I love creating these pieces.  I wonder how many I can do before they become repetitive, and I wonder when I will finally figure out the words to describe what’s going on here.  When I do find the words, I will finally be able to write that elusive artist’s statement.

Home Ground Series

I have a book called “Home Ground” (edited by Barry Lopez). It is a compilation of words that describe our natural landscapes. Writers from across North America submitted words with their definitions and history. The result is a dictionary-like book. I decided to create a piece of art for each letter in the alphabet - the “Home Ground Series.”

Over a decade in the works, I am pleased to have it finished. Click here to see the series.

Continental Divide: Triple Divide Peak

I have had this theme brewing in my mind for quite a while. Some of my pieces are inspired by the book “Home Ground,” a compilation of words that describe our natural landscape. Each time I cross the continental divide I am reminded of how much I am a speck on the landscape, and the water beneath my feet will flow to either of two oceans. There are just a few places on our planet where “triple divide peaks” send water off to three oceans. One can be found in Montana, inside Glacier National Park. As intrigued as I am by this, I stumbled with imagery representing the concept. This aerial view is an effort. I don’t think I have “hit the nail on the head,” and perhaps will try again. For now, this is it.

A short (1:15) video on creating this piece

“Continental Divide: Triple Divide Peak” light-fast colored pencil on museum board, 39x31

Hundredth Meridian

Map makers will mark the Hundredth Meridian as running through the Dakotas, Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas.  When explorer John Wesley Powell came along, he observed this was roughly the line between arid land to the west and fertile farm land to the east.  Today, this organic line of annual rainfall has shifted to the east and now lies at about the 98th longitude line - another indicator of climate change.  This drawing has a shifting divide in the middle to represent arid and fertile landscapes.  

“Hundredth Meridian” colored pencil on museum board, 40 x 28 inches

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Three Tulips

There was a garden themed gallery show coming up. I wondered how could I submit something to this show when I don’t do representational work? Giving it some thought, I remembered how inspired I get from the petals of fresh tulips in the spring. Their colors are so rich and welcoming. I decided I could represent that feeling of awe for their color. Can you see how this is three tulips, sharing a vase, and I am not paying attention to the stems, vase or surroundings?

“Three Tulips” colored pencil on museum board, 40 x 30 inches

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Water Pocket Fold

I first saw the water pocket fold from an airplane. I didn’t know what it was. I saw a large gash, in the Earth. It stretched a long way. Mystified as to what it was, I used my phone to take a photo - knowing it would show me the location where the photo was taken.

Back at home, I looked up the location and learned it was Capitol Reef National Park - a 100 mile long fold in the Earth’s crust. This is where the Earth’s plates collide. One goes under, the other folds over, creating a pocket.

Another year later I was seeing Capitol Reef Park by foot. It is a fascinating place to visit. It is impressive from the air and very fun to visit by foot. This piece has sold.

“WaterPocket Fold” 40 x 20 inches, colored pencil on museum board.

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Fissure

As we go about our day-to-day lives, it is easy to forget we are standing on the crust above molten lava.  Years ago, I hiked through lava tubes at Mt. St. Helens.  I thought it was interesting to learn how the tubes were formed by molten lava flowing down hill with the outer crust cooling first, creating a tunnel. Those tubes blew up when the mountain exploded in 1980.   When I visited an active volcano, I felt nervous.  The sights, the smells, the ground rumbling and the sounds got mixed with the hope to get out of there alive.  This piece represents our Earth’s drama. This piece has sold.

“Fissure” colored pencil on museum board, 39 by 29 inches

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This piece has sold.

Shadows Through the Plum Tree

My work uses the emotive quality of color to represent the feeling of a landscape.  Lately I have been intrigued by shadows cast by moonlight or sunlight through deciduous trees.  It is a way of showing a tree without actually showing the tree.  In this case, I am seeing the effects of bright high noon sunlight filtering through my plum tree.  The leaves are illuminated, changing from burgundy to red and orange.

“Shadows Through the Plum Tree”

colored pencil on paper, 40 inches high by 30 inches wide

Dreamscape

There are places in Washington State where we rise up over the summit of the Cascades and can see the expanse of the eastern slopes of the mountain range.  It seems we can see as far as Nebraska, but we can’t of course.  There is the sky above and rolling hills below. The horizon is veiled in haze.  Some hills are patterned with farm land full of wheat.  One of these vistas can be found just east of Chelan, crossing the Columbia River and driving up the steep hills to Mansfield.  Another vista point is near Yakima, and another is at Steptoe Butte.  From these places we can see the dreamscape of lazy blue skies and quilted landscape.

“Steptoe Butte” colored pencil on museum board, 39 x 84 inches

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Windows - on being Liminal

These are windows - abstracted. Each window has its own point of view. A few years back I did a series of pieces on being “liminal.” This new piece is a “throwback” to that series, inspired by some current events.

The word “liminal” comes from the Latin root, limen, which means “threshold.” The liminal space is the “crossing over” space – a space where you have left something behind, yet you are not yet fully in something else. It's a transition space.  There is a theory that our best creativity comes through when we are liminal. Great growth occurs. In this case, windows are used as a symbol of liminality instead of a doorway. This piece has sold.

“Windows” 18 inches by 40 inches, colored pencil on paper

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Cadence

These two images look similar, but have different sources of inspiration. The short video below will tell their stories.

“Shadows Dance” 40x18 inches, colored pencil on paper. Haiku: Bright morning sunlight / Wood blinds clatter in the breeze / Shadows dance on wall. (This piece has sold.)

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“Nature’s Cadence” 40x18 inches, colored pencil on paper. Haiku: Rhythmic rolling waves / Corrugated cumulus / Crinkled sand ridges

Midnight Shadows on the Wall

The outdoor lights shine through the window, casting shadows on the wall. This shadow changes, depending on the season. Now days, there are leaves on the trees which move in the night breeze. As I fall asleep, I can watch the shadows dance. It is a calming way to fall asleep.

“Midnight Shadows” 19 x 50 inches, Light fast colored pencil on paper

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Horizon

We are all tired by the pandemic, riots, politics, and the disruption of our daily lives. In the studio, I needed to breathe some new life into my art. Fifty inch wide paper seemed to be the thing to do. For subject matter: “Horizon” We need a little hope. A good horizon can give us hope.

These are 50 inches wide and 19 inches tall, colored pencil on paper. You will see these are two variations on the same composition. It is fun to see them together. Compare them. See how the organic and straight lines in each composition are telling the same story. I found I enjoyed working in this elongated size and plan to do more.

“Blue Horizon” 22 by 52 inches, colored pencil on paper (This piece has sold.)

“Horizon in Orange” 22 by 52 inches, colored pencil on paper

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Tribute

All creative juices stopped flowing with the onset of Covid19.  With our new “stay at home” orders, I was not gaining inspiration from nature as I normally would do.  I felt lost in the studio; uninspired and perhaps a bit depressed by the world around me. And then I came across a quote by Georgia O’Keeffe I had seen years ago: “I found that I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn’t say any other way - things that I had no words for.”  I have always felt the same. I decided to trust those shapes in my mind, and perhaps during this time of isolation, I could put something down on paper; make some marks and rekindle my voice.

At the same time, the Women Painters of Washington is organizing a show to mark the organization’s 90th year anniversary.  We are to pay tribute to the past 90 years of women’s history.

This piece is the “sister” piece to one I posted earlier titled “Those Who Came Before Me.” This one, titled “Tribute,” is a continuation of that theme. I feel gratitude towards women artists who came before me (Georgia O’Keeffe, Helen Frankenthaler, Emily Mason and Joan Konkel). 

The gentle curves in this piece are found in several places in my life: sailboat sails, bird’s wings, tulip petals, etc. These gentle curves seem to be a part of the “saying things with color and shapes that I couldn’t say any other way.”  The color palette is calming and hopeful.

38x30 inches, light-fast colored pencil on museum board

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Those Who Came Before Me

Materials: Light-fast (non-fading) colored pencil on Museum Board (archival mat board) mounted with more mat board, backing, and a frame for hanging. All materials are archival.

38 inches high by 30 inches wide (This piece has sold.)

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I belong to the “Women Painters of Washington” which is celebrating its 90th year in 2020.  This piece is a reflection on all that has transpired over the organization’s 90-year history.

I have been influenced by many women artists who have paved the way and inspired me. The most famous would be Georgia O’Keeffe for her abstractions and Helen Frankenthaler for her color field paintings. I am also inspired by Emily Mason’s use of color and Joan Konkel’s inventive use of materials. There are many others.

This piece “rolls it all into one” for me.  Various parts of the composition pay tribute to those who came before me. I am indebted to their strong voices and tenacity.

Steppe

This series was inspired by the plateau ranges of eastern Washington Sate. I have an affinity for those open spaces. Sometimes there is a haze in the air that eliminates a definite horizon line. Everything can be a little “fuzzy.” As you can see, this series has fragmented horizon lines representing the landscape.

“Terrain” Colored pencil on paper, 22 x 30 inches Inspired by the extremes in Washington State’s landscapes.

“Rimland” Colored pencil on paper, 18 x 24 inches Inspired by the high plateaus of eastern Washington State.

colored pencil on paper, 32 x 40 inches

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Blue Two

The story of this piece really begins at Leo Adams’ house in Yakima, Washington. I need to pay tribute. Leo Adams lives a rich life as an artist, and he inspires artists in his community. I am one of them. I belong to the organization Northwest Designer Craftsmen, and Leo has graciously opened his home to our group several times. I always leave inspired and impressed. Marquand Books published a book about Leo and his unique home called “Leo Adams Art Home.” Read about Leo here.

On a recent visit I was taken by a piece in his home. It looked like a two-panel Rothko painting. Upon inspection I realized it was two pieces of sheet metal with their own long untold history of paint and rust. I was immediately inspired with a vision in my mind of a two-panel piece with shaped edges. I couldn’t wait to get back to my studio. I needed to experiment. I opted to draw on museum board - a type of mat board that is thick and archival.

My first version was a prototype. I had to figure out some problematic material issues. My friend Deborah has that one hanging in her house. This one is “Blue Two” because it is the second piece after learning from the first.

This is drawn on 4-ply museum board, but it still was not thick enough. After trimming the edges into the desired shape, I used museum glue to adhere another 4-ply sheet of museum board to the back. After trimming those edges to match, I painted the edges to match the piece. Then, they each were mounted for hanging. I had fun figuring out how to create this vision into reality, and it has started me on a new direction in my work.

I fully attribute my inspiration to Leo Adams. As a person, he is inspiring. He has influenced many people in his life. He has no idea how many - including me.

(This piece has sold.)
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“Blue Two” Colored pencil on museum board, two panels. Overall size 60 inches wide by 40 inches tall

“Leo Adams Art Home” was published by Marquand Books