Art Show at Gospel Flat Farms!
Hi Folks,
I wanted to share news of an Art Show that I will be putting together for this coming June. I am thrilled to be sharing work at Gospel Flat Farms in Bolinas, Ca. I will be hosting an opening featuring live music by Artist and Magical Human, Vanwah and Special Guests.
Hope to see you there!
Open Studios Art Tour 2014
I am participating in the Open Studios Art Tour in Santa Cruz County this coming October. I will be sharing drawings, woodcut prints, and mixed media works on paper. I will be participating alongside artist and maker Vincent Waring over at the Big Yellow House. We hope to see you there!
October 11th & 12th
October 18th & 19th
11:00am-5:00pm
Unraveling Material
During one of the first afternoons I was with my weaving teacher, Ann Dizikes, I payed close attention to the way her hands were motioning incredibly fine fibers across her warp.
We took a pause together, thinking about what project would be best for me to learn from next. Ann had a thought, and stepped out for a moment, returning with a rag rug that she had made many years ago. I was struck by the beauty that the repetition of the fibers creates, with its slight variations in color bringing subtle shifts to the harmonious pattern.
Ann originally made this rag rug over twenty years ago, weaving it together using a cotton warp, and a weft made of old cotton curtains that used to hang in her mother's kitchen window in England, as well as an old pair of jeans. I was inspired seeing this small rug, as I had just moved into a new space and was in need of a mat for outside of my shower. I was astounded when Ann took a pair of scissors and began cutting across the warp, beginning to unravel the materials. She explained that the warp had begun to come undone, and without clinging to it, or grieving over this change, she began gently cutting and winding a small ball of material as she liberated the weft from the cotton warp. She then instructed me to continue the work of winding a ball with the remnants to make use of the material in a new rag rug.
I learned how to weave a small rug together by taking this one apart.
(Acid) Oil or Fat + (Base) Lye = (Salt) Soap
This soap has been curing for eight weeks now– and as the chemical reaction occurs between the acid and the base, a lovely salt is formed. As this happens, the space it is curing within takes on a particular scent– that of saponification!
The color and scent of the soaps are also informed by the different herbs in use. The herbs are either made into a tea, infused into the oil, and/or are added in to the soap mixture when it has reached trace. In some cases, I have added essential oils– though most of the time what you smell is just what it is– soap.
Soap and Ground
I recently went on a week-long camping trip to Sage Hill and Red Rock. I took soap with me– though I am not exactly sure why. When I placed the box of soap down, it felt nice to see the resemblance it had to the ground.
Soap casts shadows, just as boulders do.
>> Tincture Pressing
I spent most of yesterday pressing tinctures. It is an amazing thing to have a taste of the tincture once it has been pressed, because the grain alcohol so strongly contains and embodies the inherent qualities of the plant. The differences in the plants and their essential qualities come through very strongly.
Once the herbs have been pressed, and the liquid has been extracted, I love looking to see what layered textures are compressed and left behind.
Mountain / Rock / Sand / Dirt / Dust
I recently went on a trip with my partner– We motioned through an “easy grade” in Mt. Tamalpais, walked and swam in Bolinas, hiked along the Estero trail in and around Inverness and Point Reyes. I loved to watch my partner’s stride, though admittedly I was also fixated on the plants and rocks surrounding us. Whole composite mountains, with rock-full amounts of compressed earth being released by the forces of weather, movement, and wind. Everywhere we went, I was drawn to collect small amounts of rock or soil.
I was inspired by that hour when the light feels weightless, and the shadows are very strong.
Shadows grow taller, rocks get smaller.
Then I noticed I was holding a soft mountain.
Tracking
A while ago I studied with an amazing couple that taught me about quietly listening to land. I learned to study different cues in the surrounding landscape including impressions/prints in soil, soft sediment, animal remnants and fecal matter. Lots of time has gone by since I have last seen them, though I think of them often.
The other day, I hand-made a small batch of paper using some archival scraps that I had left over from an earlier print project. I laid the wet, newly formed sheets outside on my wooden deck to dry in the sun.
I let it lay, and the next morning I was surprised and happy to find some evidence of the mischief that takes place right off of my deck. At night, I hear the coyotes gather and howl. I hear the waves roll and beat against the heavy rocks of the shore. I hear the salty wind rustle the wild nettles, and shake the pollen loose from the old willows. But here, so close to the glass of my bedroom door, I heard no local sound-- this being treads gently.
There is no anxiety in this stance. Just a small animal standing still, taking notice.
Saltillo, and Teaching Myself to Tile
The studio space has been emptied and stripped bare.
I have pulled up the dirty carpet, unhinged the mold-covered door with the boarded up windows, capped the disconnected electric wires, patched the holes in the wall, reapplied and sealed the drywall tape.
I washed the walls, swept the floors, and smudged.
When it was time, I cut down and secured cement board to the (wavering) plywood foundation.
The real inspiration came in when I came across these beautiful tiles at the Habitat for Humanity Re-Store. Though they were an investment, I was satisfied knowing I was working with a material infused with so much integrity. After hauling them up the coast in my old Volvo, I stacked the tiles up and began washing them clean.
After washing the tiles, I re-stacked them closer to my studio along my wobbly work table. Feeling nourished by the soft red of these tiles, I began to wonder of the place that these tiles originated. Wanderlust began!
A friend generously let me borrow his tile saw, and with it, I cut down the red clay tiles to fit along the edges of the studio.
A thick clay sediment settled at the bottom of the water tray just under the blade. Everything about this material feels healing to my hands.
I study my saw edges in the sunlight, thinking of the mountains and waterways that this clay originated from. In holding the organically shaped tiles, I feel a connection to the land, and to the maker. I imagine the geologic processes that have informed this clay, made it this lovely hue. I think of the hands that gathered this material and brought these round-edged tiles to form. Impressions of animal paws run across the surface of the tiles, inspiring me with their familiarity and simultaneous wildness. I feel connection to all that accompanied this mineral.
I feel the warmth of the dry clay tile. Quickly it turns dark and heavy when wet, and quickly, too, the water evaporates and the tile returns to its lightened state.
I mix up my quick-set concrete, and use my trowel to create peaks and valleys to touch the variable arches of these tiles. I rock each tile in place, until I feel secure footing under my hands.
The light pours in, and the tiles begin to set.