I love the tactile stuff of art-making. I spent almost 30 years messing around with the textures and colors and patterns of fabric art. And I get so excited about the feel of oil paint sliding off a brush, its luscious smell, that it's all I can do not to eat it. So I never thought I'd want to work digitally, by remote-control on a screen, unable to directly touch my picture-in-progress.
10 years ago I was still refusing to deal with computers at all. A lapsed Luddite, that's me. The first week after my computer moved in, I had nightmares about my brain rearranging itself to suit the machine. I kept trying to click on my memories in my sleep.
Times change. I've found myself experimenting in Photoshop lately. I have only rudimentary facility with it, so the process still feels clumsy. But clumsiness might be part of the fun--I don't have so many habits to streamline the raw experience of making.
I get utterly absorbed, if not obsessed. I lose awareness of time, forget to so much as take a sip of water--all the symptoms of surrender to the zone of creativity--even if it is virtual creativity.
I've used layers of sheer fabrics showing through each other. I've made works in chenille, which cuts down through many layers and shows them all. In oils I use a lot of glazes, building up an image from transparent layers of paint. But being able to decide the percentage of transparency I want in an underlayer? Yowz!
Some mysterious, dreamy images have emerged. I've been taking (even) more photos lately. It's not over....
10 years ago I was still refusing to deal with computers at all. A lapsed Luddite, that's me. The first week after my computer moved in, I had nightmares about my brain rearranging itself to suit the machine. I kept trying to click on my memories in my sleep.
Times change. I've found myself experimenting in Photoshop lately. I have only rudimentary facility with it, so the process still feels clumsy. But clumsiness might be part of the fun--I don't have so many habits to streamline the raw experience of making.
I get utterly absorbed, if not obsessed. I lose awareness of time, forget to so much as take a sip of water--all the symptoms of surrender to the zone of creativity--even if it is virtual creativity.
I've used layers of sheer fabrics showing through each other. I've made works in chenille, which cuts down through many layers and shows them all. In oils I use a lot of glazes, building up an image from transparent layers of paint. But being able to decide the percentage of transparency I want in an underlayer? Yowz!
Some mysterious, dreamy images have emerged. I've been taking (even) more photos lately. It's not over....
Still Point TurningThis one, and the one at the top, Keeping Still, both started from the same puddle that my friend had dropped a rock into.
The Pause Between End and Begin
The Pause Between End and BeginThe one above evolved from the one below. Both made largely of hay bales....but the Pause used some steam from my teakettle, too, along with the sheep.
More:
Winter Walk
Make Yourself At Home
Tunnel to the Unknown
More:
Winter Walk
Make Yourself At HomeMy current favorite:
Tunnel to the Unknown
