And now, this.

And now the restoration (really, reworking) of this piece is well underway.  I realized, while I was looking at my reference image, that I had completely screwed up the ear placement.  I'm a huge (stubborn) believer in not using a grid, so these errors of measurement and proportion definitely happen.  I know, I know, a grid would cut my time by so much....but....I feel like the challenge of eyeballing and measuring manually is so much more rewarding when you truly get it right.  So, here I am, completely repainting this face....and so absolutely happy with the outcome.  The proportions are now absolutely right.  The shading?  Better.  The ear?  Better.  Yes, the scratch is still visible....but I didn't want to use any fillers or mediums to make the loss less-visible.  Every line and crack caused by my inexperienced and uneven gesso work with an oil ground is very visible under bright lights.  This scratch should be, too.  It's all part of the piece's personal history.

And now I'm almost ready to call this piece done, again.

Soundtrack?  My happy place jams of The National (Alligator) and Father John Misty (I Love You, Honeybear).  Also, does anyone else have Adele's new song in their head on repeat?  Cause, that one too.  Sorry, Ivy Building, if you heard me belting that today......

Life's Little Surprises

There's this absolutely sublime feeling when a piece of work that has been labored on for hours upon hours is done.  Welp, take a picture, move onto the next one.  There's also a limited amount of space in one's studio to hang or nicely/safely store large paintings.  Then, there's the universe who says, well, Steph, you're renting a spot shared by 2 other artists, the building is dirty and unfinished, there's multiple machine shops in the basement, and open windows.  So, something falls, and this happens:

And then you cry.

For comparison, the earlier, finished product:

Smooth perfection, meet gash.  Trying not to loose my mind completely over this 8 inch long massacre, I remembered that I want to become an art conservator.  Isn't this the exact thing these lovely sciencartists fix?  Consulting the amazing team (that I also happen to intern for) at MACC, I looked into this nasty scratch to find out just how bad it was.  The scrape, from an unknown object, must have been sharp, and must have been at an angel-praising angle, because, would you believe it, there isn't even a dent in the canvas where the gash is.  Finding that it was simply a topical wound dried my tears.  After consolidating the flaking layers of oil paint and hard-work, my plan is to simply fill, cover, fill, cover, potentially repaint the face (EHH), cover, fill until the unsightly wound no longer exists.  And thus, my crash course into art conservation.*

And I was so proud of that ear.  

*Note, were this a piece by another artist, the covering and repainting of face aspect would absolutely not be involved.  A matching color impainted in the affected area that would be fully reversible would be the typical course of action.  

So far...

I haven't blogged since June, true.  I have been painting, though.  My current series, focusing on coping, mental/emotional conditions and fungus/growth is coming along.  For more background on the theme, please read past post here.

One of the figures I most wanted to paint was that of a mother.  Perhaps this is because, as a woman, a lot of life is focused on becoming (or not becoming) one's mother, and then becoming (or not becoming) a mother to brand new humans.  One experiences precautions to not become a mom and routines to encourage the seed to sprout.  Whether one has children or not, the majority of a woman's life is dedicated to "motherhood."

Early on in my art sponge-iness, I came across this sketch by Pablo Picasso:

I was moved.  As a teenager.  Completely and utterly touched by the body language in this mere sketch.

In regards to my newest piece in this unnamed underwater women series, I wanted to represent mothers.  As an honor, yes, but also to ask why.  As everyone has very valid opinions on this, I wanted to examine my thoughts on motherhood.  It can, to me, be a way to deal with the harshness of this life; a way to deal with the madness in our heads.  It's also a very biological thing that happens without planning (but not without action).  I've experienced being lost in the eyes of a perfect, innocent, amazing, trusting child that you love with all your heart.  You want to give them absolutely everything and more.  Even if that may mean sabotaging your life as you know it.

So, in this universe of invasive growth, lichen and fungus, this one takes the place of a child.  Where some figures are fighting, trying to escape, this one is nourishing it, calmly cherishing the company of it.

Perhaps this symbolizes resignation, perhaps it's hope of something good coming.  It may simply be nature taking it's course.  This one, more than others has been emotionally challenging to create.  I am hoping, also, that it's emotionally challenging to experience as a viewer.  Maybe more so when the intended context is understood.

Detail

And so I'm almost done with another piece.  I have a few pieces of the background to touch-up, but that's that.  I've been building and preparing 4 new canvases, so there's much more to come soon.  

The series thus far is shaping up:

Recent soundtrack:
The Beatles -- all of it.  Going back to my childhood :)
alt-J -- This is All Yours
Tame Impala -- Currents
D'Angelo and the Vanguard -- Black Messiah
Hozier (yes, still obsessed)

Decision making and keeping things exciting...

Sometimes when stuck, turn it upside down :)

2015, how'd you sneak up on me?

Welp, just realized that I haven't completed a painting in 6 months.  In the past 6 months, I've been taking chemistry and helping with friend's weddings (and decor), working (of course), working on updating my website aaaaand found much happiness in my personal life.  This shocking realization isn't one of remorse, just one of motivation.  

Yesterday, I had an incredibly successful rainy day in the studio.  Here's my latest underwater lady, in progress:

I'm currently unsure if she will remain bald or not.  The question is more why would she have hair then why wouldn't she.  I still have quite a bit to go on this one, more layers, etc, but I think I'm done with the majority of her face, which is always the toughest and most enjoyable part.

Close-Up

In studio soundtrack : The National, Ellie Goulding

Seward Winter Frolic Prep!

What are you doing next weekend?  The Seward Winter Frolic Art Crawl?  Thought as much.  Here are the details : http://sewardarts.org/  (I've even cleaned my studio for you.)

I'm in the Ivy Arts Building/Vine Arts Center 

2637 27th Ave South 

Minneapolis 55121

Suite 210 

Saturday, December 6 + 7, 12-5pm

Come and see this new work:

I don't even have a working title for this series yet, so there's no label for this lady.  But (I think) she's done (for now).  

love this ear!

Today's soundtrack was a sing-a-long spectacular:
Neko Case - Middle Cyclone
Rufus Wainwright - basically the whole catalogue

Soundtrack to Rent (yup)

Mused

I'll tell you what I like about music.  The way it slaps you in the face, kindly.  The way it inspires, gently.  The way it literally moves my hand in the right rhythm.  I can't paint without a soundtrack.  Really, to be honest, I don't like to do anything without music.  Regardless of genre (except country, never country), music enhances the experience.  The soundtrack I choose is always intentional and is generally an album at a time.  Tonight, I started with Alabama Shakes which alphabetically led to Alela Diane.  Beautiful.  Appropriate and driving yet calming.  And then this lyric slapped me in the face, gently : "I won't drag my feet in whatever dirt you track in."

This series that I'm working on is incredibly personal.  Dealing, mostly, with internal struggle, and touching on ambiguous outward pressures.  As the only internal struggle that I'm intimate with is my own, this work is becoming incredibly personal.  It's lyrics like this that then push me to paint -- to overcome.  Turning those experiences that challenge, that hurt, into a positive element.

So here's an in progress shot of a piece in this series...in which the figure is fighting.  Exhausted.  Pained.  Yet, fighting.  Not letting the dirt be dragged in.

Side note : I love painting ears.  For some reason, this has always been the easiest body part to render, simply.  A line of red.  A glob of lighter flesh.  Boom - eartime.  I have local painter Luke Hillestad to thank for that.  I once noticed an ear in his painting (actually a show at the building I have my studio in now) and it blew my freaking mind on how simple the gestures were but how real it looked.  A few strokes becomes a piece of flesh.  Magic.