Introducing... Kicky McAngrypants

I figure every crying newborn looks pretty much the same, so I'm bending my rule about No Pictures of The Boy on le blog.Aside from a little matte medium to seal the inked paper edges, this new page is done. It's about how I discovered that sticking out the lower lip when angry is something babies really do, without being coached.

You know how some people (um, me) rename people "Something McSomething"? It's a habit I picked up from my sister-in-law while she was living in L.A. So it was inevitable that The Husband and I would apply that to The Boy in the first few months of his life.

The Boy was not keen on swaddling: he had to have his arms free, and very soon he decided the legs had to be free too. So one evening, while The Husband was bouncing The Boy on his knee to calm him down, he came up with "Kicky McAngrypants."

I typed "Introducing" and "Kicky McAngrypants" in Blasphemy [hee hee... "blasphemy"] font, then did water transfers of both in different font sizes. I also gessoed, then painted the nameplate space with a cream acrylic, then adhered the water transfer with matte medium. Just for good measure, I painted a little more cream around the edges of the nickname.

Finally, the fun part: I blended it in with the patina of the nameplate by painting it with the special Michael de Meng schmutzing colors. I love it when things turn out the way they look in my head!The "Introducing" water transfer sits on top of cream acrylic paint too, because I figured it wouldn't show up very well otherwise on the purple cardstock. A little more schmutzy paint on that and the prickly cactus loteria card to tie them all together, and there we go.
I also made a mica and vellum paper sandwich, bound with wire. Someday The Boy will look at this page and not find it funny at all, of course. So this is my (ultimately futile) explanation that he was not, in fact, tortured by his parents for the sake of a picture. Geez, The Boy got nursed and a bottle right after I took the picture! What does he want, blood?

Oh, yes... of course he will.

On the street where you live

I just finished altering the second postcard I'm swapping with Tally. I'd been pressing it flat, what with all the matte medium and attachments and stuff on it, under some art books. And with This Thing Called Life taking some priority in the past couple o' weeks, I dang near forgot where I'd put it.

But then her latest postcard came in the mail, and that woke me up. Note the butterfly under wax below:
And the first one she sent (with a butterfly charm peeping through the window):She's been working on some personal changes, hence the butterflies. Which will happen, believe me. God bless her, she's got her own issues and doubts, but her drive to achieve her goals is awe-inspiring. We were talking the other day, and I reminded her it's been only about three years since I showed her the True Colors book of art journals. She'd always had an artistic side, but that really got her going.

So in the interim, she's started her own business of selling hand-made cards, then turned that into hand-designed (printed) cards that are now sold in certain Whole Foods stores. She teaches in some local art venues. Occasionally, she hosts a collaborative project. Oh, and she's had a baby during those past three years too. She's a bad mama-jama.

So this is the one Tally will get in the mail in a few days:
The "street" is a piece of this cool wax-coated, slightly translucent paper. I glued it down with matte medium, but I also had the brilliant idea to heat the wax on one side, so that it was more likely to stick. Ooh, that was fun! Pinned a transparency scrap to the cigarette card girl, then pinned them down to the card. Cut up some "houses" and connected them with fiber. I added a wash of greenish acrylic on the edges, to link it visually with the back.
This is how the back looked until this morning: mostly green paper swatches, overlaid with circular-patterned rice paper on one side and the acrylic wash. Today I added the text, starting with an excerpt from "My Fair Lady":
The maritime route lines on the map paper provided a natural space for the "My Fair Lady" lyrics:

Let the time go by
I won't care if I
Can be on the street where you live

I'd mentioned in a previous post that I wished everyone I cared about could live on the same street with me. One big honkin' street. No more flights, no drives across town, no elaborate scheduling just to see each other. Of course, it all gets complicated when I think of what that would actually be like, but the fantasy makes me very happy.

First day of class-"Family Paintover"

I was so looking forward to my first class, "Family Paintover" with Lisa Bebi. I thought this class would give me some creative ways to use my relatives' pix in my artwork. Longtime readers of le blog (um, anyone who's visited since autumn of last year) know I've been getting into the genealogy thing. I've nagged my aunt and cousin for pictures and info. So I figured, even if I don't finish the class project, the instructor will have given me really cool techniques to use.

Well, not really.

The first half of the class went pretty well. The instructor was kinda nervous, since this is her first year teaching at Artfest. So I cut her some slack for going a little overlong on telling us about her published art and gallery shows. She also mentioned that she was taking Vicodin for a knee problem. But Julie was in my class too, so I figured we'd have lots to talk about once we were done.

First up was painting the background, using a bright color under a darker color. Then we used stamps, doodles and whatever else we wanted to partly reveal the first layer of color. (My throat is a little sensitive, so I wore a paint mask while I worked.)
Next, we sealed photocopies of the relative(s) in question with matte medium (so that the colors to be added don't sink into the photocopy paper). I used one of my mom in 1965, one of her father and uncles from the early 20th century, and one of her as a baby.
Finally, we carefully glued them down to the background. Julie made this useful suggestion: Don't put the whole image down at once. Glue a small area down, smooth out bubbles, then glue some more down and smooth out bubbles until you're done.

We took a break for lunch... and in the second half of class, things started to go downhill.

The instructor began by trying to do a quick overview of what was next. First, she began explaining one way to bring color to the people images, and how to marry that paint job with the background paint. Fine, but then she said, "wait, let me show you the 15-minute version I did for such-and-such publication." Okay... we'll go with that.

And as she demonstrated, the instructor veered back to the more complicated version. Then she tacked back to the simpler technique! Back and forth, back and forth. Maybe it was the Vicodin she mentioned earlier that messed with her focus. I don't know.

Finally, the instructor told us to bring up our paintings if we needed help. Which is fine -- but it wasn't fine that she ended up finishing most of the paintings herself, instead of giving suggestions. It was as if her brain had clicked over from teaching-mode to studio-mode.

So I got frustrated... I tried to fight it, but my brain tends to shut down to anything else when that happens. I ended up having to leave the classroom with one of my seatmates, DD Wigley, who talked me down outside.

Julie, on the other hand, has done some similar paintover techniques, and she was working busily. So I said to myself, fuck it. I'm just going to do what Julie's doing. Here's the first result.
I painted over my mom's skin and the other images with a thin wash of Yellow Oxide by Golden, everything except her eyes, hair and dress. (Painting over the black would only make it pop out more, and the goal was to have that recede a bit.) Then I used a heavier coat of the Quinacridone Crimson of the background color, and finally some Nickel Azo Gold to tone things down a little. While it was wet, it kinda looked a mess, but when it dried the color around my mom's face looked softer, like an encaustic (beeswax) piece. That looked roughly like the "simpler" technique the instructor was trying to get across.
The second one turned out better. Here, I decided to go whole hog and paint my mom's skin, hair and clothing with more visible layers of paint. I don't have much experience with acrylics yet, but I tried to mix a color that was close to her skin tone. (The other students were using a pre-mixed "flesh" color. You know, because all human flesh is pink. Or darker pink.)

Then I painted her dress her favorite color, yellow, but it was too close to her skin tone, so I painted it blue, and did the socks in a lighter blue. Her hair is a mix of black, Nickel Azo Gold, and brown. This one looks a bit like the instructor's more "complicated" technique.
The brothers were difficult, because like many African Americans, their skin hues vary wildly within the family. I still need to figure out how to reduce the blackface effect I created on the brothers in the back row, but the seated brothers, who were paler, turned out a bit better.

I wasn't the only one unhappy with the class: that night, I talked to three or four other students who were pretty ticked off as well. And you can see the difference between the student work...and the instructor finished work.
Interestingly enough, my new friend Morag Campbell took the same class in Paris -- and said it turned out fabulously. But not here, man. Let's face it: If you have to do the work for the student, you haven't really taught them how to replicate the technique.

A couple of days later, I ran into the instructor, who had heard that I was very unhappy with the class. She told me she thought my work turned out very well, and that she'd be happy to help me fix anything I didn't like about it.

But I was just so mentally fried by that time that anything she said would've gone in one ear and out the other. I did tell her what confused me. I also pointed out that I would hardly have been insulted had she taught us the simplest version only. She apologized, and said if I email her later she'd still love to help. But you know... I'm done. Maybe I'll noodle with the pieces later, but for now, I'm done.

As a student, I need the instructor to teach me one technique, with no distractions, until I've gotten a chance to do the basics. Add on the options later. It reminds me of what I yell at other drivers when they're weaving on the road in front of me: Pick a lane and stick with it.

Tomorrow's post : fun at the famed Artfest bonfire that night.

"One time, at art camp..."

I'm back -- and crammed to the gills full of Artfest fun and wisdom! Prepare to be inundated for the next week or so. There's just so much to show and tell.The ferry trip and drive through the Olympic Peninsula was pleasant and uneventful. I meant to stop in at the "festal virgins fountain" (aka the Haller fountain) but once I saw the "Welcome to Port Townsend" sign, I couldn't stop until I got to Fort Worden.
My home for the next half-week: dorm 202, front view.
I was on the second floor.
Uh-huh. All the way up there, and no elevators (this was built waaaaay before disabled-access laws, plus it's a former Army barracks.) In spite of having brought way too much stuff, I managed to get it all settled in the right room.
The fantastic four:Cheryl, Liesel, Layla and me.

So I went to stand in line to register, and enter my "Dryad and Child" into the gallery. I think it was only about a half-hour after the Artfest office opened, but it was crammed with people dying to get the party started. Like Maya and Cindy.
Surprise -- I had a hard time focusing on the task at hand, so Cindy pointed out what I needed to pick up and look through. See those big-ass name buttons? Those are actually lifesavers -- your brain quickly becomes too crammed full of techniques and new info to remember people's names.

I found some mint fudge in my welcome pack, so that also helped me keep going. Then I met two more new friends, Amy Lee and Janine.
We took in the sights...... until dinnertime, when I met Julie for the first time in real life!
She's on the left, talking to Tiphoni, one of the instructors and Teesha's daughter.

The food was great, and then the frenzy continued -- this time with trades. (These are optional little gifts given as a little "nice to meet you." They can be anything you want, like artist trading cards or charms.) I didn't even have to get out of my seat! A lot of people were so excited, they finished dinner and began going from table to table, offering to trade.
Afterwards, we all went to the first-day meeting, where Teesha and Tracy introduced our instructors. Then we were free to go to the Art Asylum, which is a room where you can journal...or make something from the donated odds and ends.I was way too wired to focus that much, but I did show people the artist book I began at Art & Soul last October.

Day two of Artfest is coming... gotta continue my re-entry into the rest of my life.

Happy fifth anniversary, sweetie

Don't stand too close. It'll take a chunk outta ya.
I might've mentioned in an earlier post that I make art for The Husband each year for our anniversary. It's our fifth, so the traditional gift is made of wood. But really, who wants a wooden gift that hasn't been altered? Then, under the influence of Jane Wynn's Altered Curiosities, I realized I had the foundation of this anniversary's gift.

The Husband and I share a love of Terry Pratchett's Discworld. One of the recurring "characters" is The Luggage, as described on Wikipedia:

It is a large chest made of sapient pearwood (a magical, intelligent plant which is nearly extinct, impervious to magic, and only grows in a few places outside the Agatean Empire, generally on sites of very old magic). It can produce hundreds of little legs protruding from its underside and can move very fast if the need arises. It has been described as "half suitcase, half homicidal maniac."

So I started with a balsa wood box I'd gotten for another project. I painted it with bronze paint, then patina.
I cut "teeth" into the top and bottom, then painted the teeth off-white, then added more patina over the tooth paint. (Really should've cut them before I painted the box, but I was so excited about trying the patina!)

Oh, and then the Dremel cutting wheel comes out! Oh, yeah. There is nothing like the smell of friction-melted, amputated toy soldier legs.
Except for friction-melted, amputated fake Barbie legs, of course.

And you can add McDonald's action figurine legs for variety. I attached them with epoxy putty from the hardware store.
Again, try not to jump the gun with the paint... like I did... again. You'll need to attach one row of legs, then paint, then attach another row. Otherwise you'll need a really skinny paintbrush to get around the corners to paint everything.
I lined the inside with a textured red paper, and then collaged the tags.
The Husband immediately put it up on the mantle. He knew what I was making, but he still liked the way it came out. Oh, but you have to see the art he made for me!

I don't have issues. I have a subscription.

I have a good reason for the carnage below, but just looking at the picture, it occurs to me that someone might think I have anger issues.I do have to admit there's a twisted pleasure in cutting through plastic figurines. (Did you know the friction of the Dremel cutting wheel heats up the plastic? Keep this in mind when you're pulling off the scrap bits.)

The legs are now attached to a body, of sorts. I can't say much else, because The Husband reads my blog and it's a piece I'm making for him. He's probably figured out what I'm making, even now, 'cause he's one of those disturbingly smart people.

On to my other issues. No more carnage, I promise.

I thought I finished my artist book. But I couldn't keep my hands off the cover, so I gave in. I added Golden regular molding paste and acrylic paint, the last of my copper mesh pockets, and some scrapbook stencil letters. The paint mixture I just kind of eyeballed; I used eggshell white, plus Golden yellow oxide and nickel azo gold, with a drop of brown to make it earthier. I washed the edges with Michael de Meng's secret recipe grungy color.

The pocket was partly covered with a plastic lace doily and brushed with patina. You can still see a little of the scallop-y pattern, even though the copper is folded.

The stencil letters used to be shiny, but I let them sit in a paper bowl with patina solution until I got some corrosion. Ooh, you should've seen it -- the solution wasn't doing much of anything at first, but eventually the stencil surfaces started to bubble and fizz, and when I picked up the bowl, it was warm! Hoo boy. The reaction stopped when I popped the letters into clean water. Let's just call that my contribution to global warming.

Next, I cut down some bookmarks, then stamped and wrote the lyrics of "Someday" on them.
On the back, a favorite stamp of a sketch by da Vinci: it's Cleopatra. (You can see her just a little bit through the copper mesh, if you go back to the previous photo.)
And on the front, the lyrics. I decided to add Alice only because I thought to have her looking at the earth above and behind her. If she'd just been looking at the lyrics, that would've been a little too precious. I like the stamping because each figure is looking off and away to a world that no longer exists.

I finished off the inner covers with a mottled green paper, which worked especially well for the back cover and last page. It makes the letters and gate on the patina'd copper stand out better. The book is now sitting in a box a friend gave me. The box will make a convenient traveling case, since I'm going to bring it to Artfest and show the result to LK Ludwig, in whose class I began this project.

If you're going to Artfest, ask me to show you the book!

"An artist never really finishes his work, he merely abandons it." -- Paul Valéry

I think I'm done with both my artist book (from Art & Soul Portland) and my Artfest assemblage. I took up Jen Worden's challenge this week, being already in that frame of mind. But you never know... I may succumb to messing around with one or the other...

Here is the finishing touch to the heart in the Artfest assemblage, before and after:
And the last pages in the artist book I started in LK Ludwig's class last October. I'm having trouble posting the photos (THANKS, BLOGGER) again. To see the pages from start to finish, go to my Flickr.

As soon as BLOGGER GETS ITS ACT TOGETHER, I'll post the pages here too. Sorry for the hassle.

New Flickr pix

Finally got around to downloading some more pix into my Flickr. Go see.

Surfacing

I missed you too. So much that I got off my behind and took pictures to share. That's my dad and me at our first LA beach trip, after my family moved from the East Coast. Love the 70's square Afro my dad's sporting? Of course you do.

Right after I decompressed from Art & Soul Portland, I made some progress on the Illuminated Vision artist book I started in LK Ludwig's class. You'll remember my "poem" was the song Someday by Sugar Ray. These are the hard pages I was approaching with a bit of anticipation and hesitation. They're the ones inspired by these verses:

Just close your eyes and I'll take you there
This place is warm, without a care
We'll take a swim in the deep blue sea
I go to leave but you reach for me
Thoughtful of me to close my eyes in that picture, 25 years before the song hit the radio. (Damn! 25 years?!) And yes, the shore of Santa Monica was quite warm that day, in English or in Greek.
I knew these foreign-language flash cards would come in handy... snapped them up at Vendor Night.
Wasn't sure if I should make a transfer of the image of my father and me. The original is not as sharp as a digital photo would be, and the transfer would only be less distinct. But then I thought, it's kind of appropriate that the image is reversed and difficult to see, what with this being so far in the past. And the viewer's memory of the clearer image should hold, as long as the transfer is on the next page. So, before...
... and after.
Also highlighted each head in the transfer, and finally got to use another one of those sacred hearts I picked up I don't know when.

More later on the craft fair production, and Thanksgiving with half of the in-laws.

Motoring along

That's G The Husband and C The Boy (ha ha... "See" the boy...) in the window of an altered book. I made it for Father's Day last year, as a late entry in a tradition The Husband and I started soon after we got married. The rest of the pictures are at Flickr.

Usually, I give G handmade art on our anniversary, but that year he was sick as a dog. No, his dog has never been that sick, and not in that way. Suffice it to say that it was a recurring illness that started out as a cyst and ended up requiring intravenous antibiotics. I'd show you pictures, but there are laws against that sort of thing.

All I did at this time was take C to day care, go to work, pick C up from day care, feed them both, and crash. I mention this to say that I was terrified I was going to end up as a widow with a small child, a thousand miles away from my nearest relatives, in a house I couldn't afford on my own.

The illness eventually cleared up, but I still have G's big frickin' medicine bottles as proof that it happened. And they will become art, oh yes they will... yessss. And there was no way I'd be able to make any art for the anniversary, but The Husband said, "well, Father's Day is coming up. You could make me something for that." Voila -- my first completed altered book. Later, G's brother-in-law, who is the creative director for a poker website and knows design, paged through the book. And he really liked it, even though he's a "civilian" who'd never seen altered art before.

Now all I have to do is figure out how to add that cool moving-collage-linky-bit that I've seen other people do with their Flickr links.
After work.
I said, after work.
Really, I'm going now. Geez, you don't have to push.