Sunday, February 28, 2010

Sunday, February 14, 2010

The Art Studio

I've been out of my art studio for around five months. The storefront I've been using as my workshop became ground zero for a long overdue construction project that was supposed to take a month. But old buildings are unpredictable and this one goes back to the 1890s. 
Once upon a time it was a brakeman's station for the trolleys that rolled down California Street. Now it is born again as an art studio.
The time away was awkward at first since it's been my habit to go there to make art. What I discovered is that the art studio is anywhere and everywhere. It's in the back of the truck and basement. It's in the attic and the dining room. It's in the backpack and anywhere outdoors. The art studio is wherever there is enthusiasm to create.
With that in mind, I intend to re-enter my old space with new vision, embrace uncertainty and see each day as another day in paradox.

Monday, February 8, 2010

A Shaft of Sunlight

I tend to start my sketch with something pleasing that catches my eye. Often it's a familiar shape, object or thing. My daily ritual takes place in the same spot at the same time lately and this morning I was greeted by a shaft of sunlight resting on my table. It wasn't there when I first sat down. But as I uncapped my pen it boldly appeared as if asking to be drawn. It's a trick request. The best way to draw light is not to draw light at all. Instead I sketched the welcoming committee of fruit that was illuminated by this radiant parade. Sunlight seems to bring out the best in everything. It certainly lifts my spirit and I'm grateful. I'm grateful for the warm bath of light I sit in as I sketch, the edible bounty it creates and for giving me a map to find beauty where I may not have seen it before.   

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

The White Tablecloth

I've been musing about the split-perspective. I seldom see it in paintings, but when I do it can be mesmerizing. The idea of dividing the picture plane into two different sections is playful. It's another puzzle. The areas can relate or not. There are no rules, but sufficient contrast is ideal. Busy and calm. Far and close. Inside and outside. I'm starting to see an emerging metaphor here for how I want to live my year. Here and there. On land and under water. Urban and remote. Perhaps my life will begin to imitate my art as I create more of these split-perspectives. I'd like that.