"Queen Ingrid" - mixed media on aquabord, 16" x 20". SOLD. [FLORINDA] Never wear mauve at a ball... [LUCINDA] Or pink... [STEPMOTHER] Or open your mouth... From the song "First Midnight", Into the Woods Meet Queen Ingrid, who was banished from her kingdom to the land of Textile with Tim Gunn. She is one of the characters created in a collaborative story-telling demonstration earlier this week, and she has stolen my heart. :) The village women named her and told me her story as she was emerging from the board. Magical! So now we have a journey into the woods where queens are banished to Project Runway episodes. I believe she was banished for daring to dress however she darn well pleased, and likely she is quite happy to hang out with Tim and play with fabric instead of handling the adminstrative duties of the realm. I think part of our forest adventure has got to be to come closer to who we are inside, bring that girl to the outside and then let her shine brightly even when we return to civilization (well, if we ever return. I am quite happy here in the woods). Ingrid was adopted by one of the most charming ladies in the village, someone with a twinkle in her eye and a kind word for everyone. Thank you, sweet collector! Yesterday, I was thrilled to have tea with a new friend, artist Lynda Sauls. And a kind of nudge nudge wink wink from the universe, I learned she is also a person who ventures into the woods, with a studio space in an untamed part of Florida, nestled in the Wild Flamingo nursery. Read about her journey here. And take a peek at her incredible artwork here. Now then, it's time to get back into the studio. There is a delightful girl in the forest clamoring to be painted. :)
7 Comments
"Queen Aislin Makes a Wish" - mixed media on cradled board, 9" x 12" x 1". Ready to hang. Available on Artfinder. [NARRATOR] Once upon a time In a far-off kingdom There lay a small village At the edge of the woods [CINDERELLA] I wish... A brisk Monday morning in the studio finds me wishing for a glimpse of snow. An unlikely thing here in south Florida, but a wish nonetheless. I was born in the frosty north (Minnesota) and raised in the blustery midwest (Ohio) so a winter without snow is still an odd creature to me. In the meantime, I am enjoying windows open, a little chill in the air and the option to wear long sleeves without breaking into a sweat. :) Monday also finds us peering out from the trees to see a small village at the edge of the woods. Our metaphorical village (the people we are surrounded by) has a profound impact on our experience in the forest. They are both the thing that lifts us up and also the thing that can destroy us, creatively at least. There is nothing like a sincere word of encouragement to embolden us when we're heading in a new direction. And nothing quite like a discouraging comment to stop us from taking a creative leap. Still reading the Twyla Tharp book, in which she says "what you are today and what you will be in five years depends on two things: the people you meet and the books you read." Aha! Well, books are like people to me, so I resonated with that sentence right away. And a huge factor in where I am today is the people I've met along the way. My village is extraodinary - compassionate, fierce, jubilant and fearless creative people. They stoke my creative fires and give me wings when I jump into something new. With books, I am careful to read subjects and authors which uplift, expand, delight and educate me. My brain is like a four-year-old that way - it needs some censoring of what goes in there. And with the village people, I listen to my gut and try to spend the most time with the kind, compassionate and brave among them, because my inner child is tender-hearted and easily bruised. Queen Aislin is a multi-paint over. There are two paintings underneath her, each adding to the richness of texture and a depth of meaning to her introspective gaze. One of the underpaintings is a piece on meditation and breathing; the other a piece about sisterhood and community. Unlike many of the bossy queens in my studio, this lady is soft-spoken and calm. Maybe she will have a positive influence over the others in the studio village. :)
"Queen of Arts" - mixed media on aquabord, 18" x 24". Ready to frame, or can be leaned on a shelf. Available on Artfinder. The beginning of the second week of this challenge finds me hanging out with royalty. These bossy queens are quite demanding of my studio time, but they are excellent conversationalists. And this particular queen is most at home in the forest with her paintbrushes ready. You've changed. You're thriving. There's something about the woods. Not just Surviving. You're blossoming in the woods. from the song "It Takes Two", Into the Woods I realize this month's journey into the woods is metaphorical, but there is something about daily imagining a forest adventure that is giving me a real mental boost. In the studio, it is truly now a woodland setting, with a dozen forested pieces in progress. And I feel more adventurous outside of the studio, too. Yesterday, my husband and I set out for a gastronomical adventure at Chillbar in Hollywood, FL. I am not brave when it comes to food - too many sensitivities and allergies. But this day felt different, so off we went. It was a cross between a Jimmy Buffet song and a visit to crunchy granola-ville. When the hostess came out in a tiara, dress and chuck taylor's with lacey socks, I knew we were at the right place. So yeah yeah, the food was great and the ambiance was fun. But what made me truly smile was when one of the owners (at least, I think he was?) assumed we were regulars, because we seemed like "Okomos". Now I had never heard that term before, so had to look it up. OKOMO: "A person that is beautiful inside and out. Someone you can always rely on for a good laugh and to talk about everything..." Only one week into our woodland adventure and I've already been transformed into an Okomo! Now I am off to find a tiara so maybe the bossy queens in the studio will give me a little more respect. :)
"Moonlight Magic" - mixed media on canvas paper, 9" x 12". Ready to frame. Available on Artfinder. When you're way up high And you look below At the world you left And the things you know, Little more than a glance Is enough to show you Just how small you are. from the song "Giants in the Sky", Into the Woods Here we are, deep in the woods, tra-la-la-ing along our merry way, when giants appear in the sky. Giants in the form of airport shootings just minutes away from home. Giants in the form of advancing illness and shrinking medical options for someone I love. Giants stomping around up there, causing chaos in the forest and shaking our trees. Well, giants are going to happen. They are just a part of the journey, right? But what do we do when there are giants? Years ago, I would throw on my sneakers and go for a long run to shake off the giants. When I could no longer run, I would grab the dogs and go for a long hike, leaving the giants behind. When there were no more dogs, I would get on my bike and head out for a hard ride. There is a recurring theme here for me - physicality is my natural response to giants. And though it doesn't change what giants do (really, those guys are impossible!), it does improve how I feel. Truly, that is the only thing I have any serious influence over. But I didn't always know that. There was a time, back in the day, when giants would make me want to grab a sword, climb up the beanstalk and kick some giant butt! I have bloodied my knuckles on more giant ankles than I can count, and never won a battle. Funny how I have to get so old to realize how small I am, how little I know, and how tiny my determination is when pitted against a giant. So today I will grab a hat and some garden gloves, head out into the yard and pick a fight with some serious weeds. It might not prevent airport shootings or cure fatal diseases, but it will clear the path for me to continue the journey past the giants into the woods.
Scratching - like removing the surface of a lottery ticket, she says, to see if you've won. It's what you do when you go on an artist date seeking inspiration at a museum or botanical gardens. You are scratching when you are enchanted by the coffee-table books and art magazines at Barnes & Noble. Scratching happens when you are people-watching at the airport and see a girl, a darling girl, in a fancy dress with lacy socks and red, curly hair and can't forget her sweet rosey cheeks or the tilt of her head. Small things, little things, tiny things that get stuck in your head and maybe later in your sketchbook and somehow become the tiny spark of light for a bigger project or a new series or theme. I am scratching when I mine the lyrics of Into the Woods for little ideas that might resonate (and there are so many gems in song lyrics). My favorite form of scratching is to collect names from nametags in restaurants and stores. Unusual names. Names that become characters in a painting just because there was something about that particular name that sparked an idea. My journal should be called a Scratch Book intead. Filled with scribbled thoughts, sketches, phrases, taped in pieces of paper. None of them worth diddly by themselves, and some of them really not good at all. But Tharp says, "Scratching is not about control and repose. It's about unleashing furious mindless energy and watching it bounce off everything in your path...Let it be awful and awkward and wrong." Just let the ideas flow. Beans? These must be the witch's beans! We'll take them with us. Today, dear reader, I give you beans. What you do with them, well, that's where the fun begins!
"Ellen Carries The Lantern" - mixed media on aquabord, 11" x 14". Ready to frame, or can be leaned on a shelf. Available on Artfinder. Into the woods, It's time to go, It may be all In vain, you/I know. Into the woods- But even so, I have to take the journey. January. Resolutions, goals, plans, dreams. Excitement! Energy! Enthusiasm! Fear (we already tackled that). Self-doubt. What if it's the wrong plan? What if it doesn't work out? What if I do this and that and the other thing and never reach the goal? Yep, these thoughts get in the way of doing anything at all sometimes. But here's the thing - it really doesn't matter if we reach the goal (get to grandmother's house) when heading into the woods. It may, indeed, all be in vain with respect to the actual goal. But I guarantee, if I make the effort, spend the time, walk the path determindly, I will arrive somewhere. And it might be somewhere even better. I looked over my plans for last year recently. I didn't reach some goals I set. I totally failed at some others. But I did do a whole heap load of things I never thought possible, never even imagined, because those things happened to be along the path I was taking. For example, I never thought there would be a collaborative book published along the way. Blue Wild was just a glimmer on the far horizon. And yet it happened. I never imagined spending a month living in magical Listowel, Ireland. But I did. And two of my pieces ended up in a national magazine last year. WHAT? That was unexpected and delightful. The journey is the goal. Where we end up, well, that's the mystery and delight. I suppose what I'm saying is: grab your lantern and put your feet on the path. I know it's dark. And sometimes scary. And hard. But let's go anyway. :)
There are games we prefer to play each year (25 Words or Less, Cards Against Humanity, Balderdash) and there is always a new game under the tree from Santa. This year, the new game was Exploding Kittens. Yep, that's right. Kittens that explode. It is as irreverent as Cards Against Humanity but more silly, more ridiculous and more likely to be repeated for days afterward. My husband and I are still calling "NOPE" on anything we don't want to do. My son is infatuated with a card featuring a cartoon baby owl smoking crack. Oh yes. It's that kind of a game. I know you're curious... satisfy your need to know by watching this video. What on earth does this have to do with Into the Woods, you might be wondering? Look at her... There are bugs on her dugs. There are flies in her eyes. There's a lump on her rump Big enough to be a hump- Well, let's just say there is mischief, limerick and malarkey, especially when you go into the woods.
"Sassy Squared" - mixed media on gallery-wrapped canvas, 18" x 24". Private commission. Yesterday I wondered what might be lurking in the woods...and thanks to a couple of mischievious girls, I found the first fierce beastie almost immediately. I met these two charming kiddos at ArtServe last month, and found them completely irresistible. They saw adventure around every corner! A conference room table and chairs became a jungle gym. An umbrella became a magical tool which both had to hold simultaneously to keep things fair. In the way of little innocents, these girls were head over heels for their friendship even though they had just met. I couldn't help but follow them down the path into the winter woods, where they were completely fearless and tamed the wild bear in seconds. The way is clear, The light is good, I have no fear, Nor no one should. The woods are just trees, The trees are just wood. No need to be afraid there A sassy duo worthy of the song lyrics. When we're very young, we're afraid of many things - the dark, monsters, strangers, asparagus. But when we get old, we're afraid of things we never worried about as very young kids - what others might think of us or whether or not we look silly, and it gets in the way of our ability to play. These two lovelies reminded me of the pure joy of being immersed in your imagination, and in the comfort of someone who really gets you. In all honesty, this piece took much more than one day to create, but I saved the finishing touches for this month. I was a bit sad to be done, as these two brightened my studio and kept me smiling for days on end. I will add them to my joy pockets. :) Already, this journey into the woods is proving to be a delightful adventure
And before we've stepped foot into the woods, we've put a monkey on our backs with our own thoughts. Well, at least that's how my brain often works. One of the gifts I received this Christmas is a book by the choreographer Twyla Tharp called The Creative Habit. I'm a few chapters in, and truly impressed by her creative discipline, which begins with understanding her own thoughts about everything. Including fear. Our ability to grow is directly proportional to our ability to entertain the uncomfortable. Are you uncomfortable reading that sentence? I was for a second. But if I think about all discomfort using the exercise metaphor (using muscles causes discomfort which then causes stronger better bigger muscles) then I begin to see the uncomfortable as a launch pad for something great! Just changing the thought around the thing makes it less of one thing (fear) and more of another (challenge), and then I no longer hesitate. Today's piece is an abstract inspired by the little things growing in the forest...lichens, mosses, algae. And like our budding ability to embrace the uncomfortable, they play a mighty role in the world.
|
AuthorLola Jovan |