Loosen Up! Workshop with Marla Baggetta

As soon as I saw the title, I knew this was the right workshop for me!  "Loosen Up!" it was called.  And it worked - at least for the duration of the weekend.  The jury's out whether or not the change will be somewhat lasting.

Marla Baggetta was brought to Richmond by the MidAtlantic Pastel Society, MAPS, a group anyone with interest may join (I highly recommend it!)  Marla was an excellent teacher - fun, enthusiastic, caring, knowledgeable, with a whole stack of interesting and challenging exercises which really got her point across.  Interestingly, she taught the very same concepts I teach in my Intro to Pastels class, but she had different exercises to get the point across, more advanced ones.

One of the first exercises we did was to draw an apple.  I have my students draw apples as well, so it's an exercise I've done probably 200 times.  It was fun to see her approach and to modify mine accordingly.  She drew her larger and used much lighter, larger strokes than I do, not necessarily rounded to show the form of the fruit. I encourage my students to use strokes that go around the apple to help give a sense of form and volume.  She also barely looked at the apple, just making up a lot of it including the light source.  It was fun watching her delight in creating.  She really loves to draw!  I loved seeing that!

I drew four apples because I wanted to keep testing myself to do something new - a new view of the apple, using completely different colors and values - anything to test myself. The first one is fairly normal. These are about 9"x 12".

   

Very frowsy edges!

The bottom of the apple. Very intense colors.
Marla suggested that I got a bit heavy-handed
with the pastel so I tried again!

The fourth and final apple, also upside
down.  (Chris thought it was a picture of
mountains and sky.) More muted colors.

My favorite exercise had us consider composition and the values found in a given composition. We were to analyze the composition and break it up into 3-5 values, then draw that thumbnail according to Carlson's Theory of Angles/Planes (The link is to Marla's video explaining the theory in more detail than I have here.) which says that the values of elements in the landscape ascend from lightest to darkest in the following order: 

1. arch of sky - lightest, source of light
2. ground plane (except water which may reflect the sky and be equally light)
3. angled planes (like mountains)
4. uprights - trees, etc.

Once we drew our thumbnail according to this theory, we were to mix up the values and draw the thumbnail three more times using different values for each portion.

Once done, we were to use different color schemes to draw the thumbnail:

1. B&W&gray
2. realistic
3. saturated (intense colors)
4. neutral
5. tints
6. shades

After this lesson, Marla showed us a composition she had created out of thin air which she has drawn hundreds upon hundreds of times using these ideas.  She did a demo to show us how she goes about using these ideas and incorporating them into a painting.  Then she challenged us to use the exact same composition and our own color/value/intensity choices to create a piece.  I did two.

 At first, I did everything in this image bright bright bright.  She came over and commented that when everything is bright, nothing is, and encouraged me to dull some portions down.  Thus the darker/duller foreground and duller sky up top.

I thought of Spring colors when creating this one. I haven't sorted out the difference between "loose" and "fast" - too much programming from my youth, I suppose, when "fast" and "loose" were synonymous for girls!  Anyway, I did both of these very very quickly. I'd like to learn to work more slowly and thoughtfully AND loosely.  I like the strokes here and the colors.  I think I could have made it a bit stronger if I'd given it more thought as I went along. I will say, though, it was very fun tumbling along around the page, throwing colors at it without a photo reference.  Very freeing!

Our next exercise was to use our own photograph, the one we had made the thumbnail for and worked with extensively.  Here's the way my thumbnail developed (we were asked to create a vertical, a horizontal, and a square thumbnail for the image, but I only did horizontal and square (the third image is for a different image I hope to work on tomorrow):

That turned into the B&W and grey images show first in this blog post.

My first attempt at drawing this image wasn't as successful as I'd hoped: (oh! It feels so vulnerable to share this and to share my efforts.  It seems so much safer to share just my final outcome after I'd done it three times!)

I like the water and sky, but the mistake I made was to try to draw the vertical trees AFTER the sky was in.  It isn't possible to get the trunks dark enough.  Marla came around and suggested I draw the tree trunks before drawing the sky then drawing the sky around the trunks and branches.  I'd thought that would look weird and not so good, but she showed me how she does it, and I can see that it works.  So here's the second attempt:

I feel like the foliage in the trees on the right is a bit heavy-handed so I decided to try it again, this time as a square composition:

I feel like I manage to convey the sense of the rising sun better in this one, and the foliage on the right is effective.  I also like the light on the road.  However, the brush on the left is too high, darn it.  I do, however, like that I used lots of colors in the brush and trees, making it much more interesting.  I will try it one more time tomorrow to see if I can nail this puppy!  I'm not sure why it matters so much to me - I guess I just want to learn how to create a scene like this.  It's difficult! I won't learn it unless I keep practicing. Stay tuned!

The third day we had the opportunity to draw some pictures on our own using the information we'd learned the previous two days.  I worked on one piece from Iceland, one from the James River. I did thumbnails of several images then chose these two as the most successful to try.  There are a couple more I hope to draw this week when I get enough time to play again.

Rounding the Bend, Hrisey

Man and Nature
Huguenot Bridge from Huguenot Flatwater

The last exercise Marla challenged us with was to take the largest piece of paper we brought with us (mine was 19"x24") and to draw a single object from around the room on it, loose, fun.  I almost got finished before the critique started!

I'm so glad I took this workshop. It was great being with a group of pastelists who are serious about their craft and already are quite skilled.  And working with Marla was a true gift. I feel like I learned a lot which I will use in my work from here on out - now, finally - maybe! - I can loosen up and let the energy I'm feeling come through more clearly!

#74 - #79 of 100 Creations in 100 Days: Working/Playing Hard with Divine Inspiration

Working/playing hard today



I feel as if I’m finally getting someplace I’ve been wanting to go for a long long time. Finally. Time makes a real difference. 

I have five small canvases I started working on before Paris. They’re all of Iceland. I painted them realistically, giving them all the tenderness I feel for the land. Recognizing what I have to give is not what Monet has to give. I don’t have those strokes. I have a tender gentle realistic stroke. 

Then I wanted to infuse the strokes with feeling, with the intensity I feel when I am there. With the light that is behind the clouds. With the energy in the ground. The pieces morphed. I had to start new ones. And/or risk a crazy change and assume I wouldn’t want to do it, wouldn’t have it available in my thoughts, if it wasn’t the right thing to do. It’s 12” of canvas. Who cares?

And magic is happening. I’m very pleased. I have decided to go to Iceland for the month of September. July is too expensive and too soon and I’m already obligated to teach then. 

Here are the pieces:

#74

Finished. I enjoyed the smoothness and subtleties of this. There are many colors in the grey, no black. And lots of colors in the white. And then I had to do this on a second canvas:

Same scene. More feeling. Disregard for visual reality. Attention to emotional reality. 

I did this image several months ago in pastel.  I'd been wanting to try it in oils to see if I could do more glazing and make the colors more luminous. It's one reason I wanted to start painting again - to try this piece again.  I'd begun it before Paris, but today, this is where I went with it...

#76  I love it. THIS is what I’ve been trying to express. THIS is what I want to say. 

This was finished. Then the others happened and I knew there was more to say here. How did I feel when I saw this scene in real life? What was going through me? I didn’t see the grey. I felt the heat, the love, the glory, the beauty. So then this happened. It may or may not be finished. 

Then there’s this which is saying what the photo says but doesn’t show what I love about it. I’m not clear what else to say here, so I’ll leave it for now. It’ll let me know.  

This one went through many iterations today.  Here's how it started:

Here are other iterations:

And the final one.  Maybe.  I'll see how it feels tomorrow.

#79

Obviously this is how I need to be living, what I need to be doing - painting all day, experimenting, listening. trying, looking, playing, delighting in color and texture and form and place. Now to figure out how to make that happen!

I hope your day is feeling equally divinely inspired. 

#72 Thingvellir Valley, a pen and ink drawing

One of the last days of my 2017 visit to Iceland, I was traveling with my dear friend Zuzana to Thingvellir, the site of Europe's first Parliament in 963. It is a broad valley in the south of Iceland with sufficient water and grassy lands for folks to gather and find what they needed to stay a while. It also has the most interesting rock faces which were formed by earthquakes and the movement of tectonic plates.  I don't know enough geology to be able to begin to explain what happened, but each time I visit there, I am enthralled by the walls of rock. They are 20'-30' tall, bereft of life other than a plant or two sometimes growing out of the crevices. They're imposing, silent witnesses to all that has happened there. Laws were created; justice was meted out - sometimes cruelly as from the hanging rock or the drowning pool; alliances were formed; couples were coupled; horses and sheep were traded. In more recent times, Icelanders have gathered there to celebrate freedom from Denmark and other important hallmarks.

Tons of tourists go there because it is relatively close to Reykjavik and is part of the "Golden Circle" trio of sites: Thingvellir, Geysir, and Gullfoss (a waterfall). It is where the European and North American continents meet - you can even scuba dive at Silfra, the rift between the continents. There's a place you can touch both continents at once! The water is so clear there, it's disconcerting even to experienced divers.  And cold!  The water that feeds it is glacial, so you have to wear the right diving suit, etc., to have that experience!

When I go to Thingvellir, I tune in to a most remarkable energy that makes me feel really good. It emanates from the ground and swoops through me. I gather inspiration and a feeling that all is right with the world from it. I visit there each time I am in Iceland to experience the energy and even chose to stay on the lake one year for 18 days to have more time there.

The picture I created here is from a part of Thingvellir National Park where there aren't so many tourists. The rift valley seems to extend forever, and I can well imagine horsemen arriving from the North for the annual gathering at Thingvellir. I'm guessing it looks very much now like it did over 1000 years ago.

#72 Thingvellir Valley
pen and ink
11"x8"

My impetus for creating that picture was Paul Landacre's woodcuts. I saw them on Pinterest and wanted to try to create something similar. In drawing my piece, I learned just how difficult it is to simplify the landscape as beautifully as Landacre did. I plan to keep trying, but my marks became much more detailed, not as general. I really like his work and want to learn what I can from it. I find it very helpful to try to copy art by artists I admire - I learn a lot from their style and methods of working and eventually incorporate it into my own work, or at least have a sense of their strokes in my own fingers as I work.

Monterey Hills
by Paul Landacre
woodcut

Walk in the Woods (#51)

Walking along the snowy road, I notice a child's playground with a zipline beckoning. I overcome my shyness and the voices telling me I'll look dumb - it's for kids - what if I fall - what will people think - is it allowed - I don't really want to - what if? - I climb onto the wobbly seat, secure my camera in my pocket, back up to get placed right, and let myself go. I can't stop - I shriek with delight from the fun of it. I stop safely and pull the seat back to the start. Again. Again. I feel the cold air rush into my squinched eyes as my body rushes uncontrolled, uncontrollable through space.

Finally, unsated but full of joy, I get off the seat, adjust my snow pants, and walk on. There's a bright wide, well-trodden road, but of course I choose the narrow path that enters the woods and contains a hint of mystery. The Icelandic woods with their young fir trees and little undergrowth feel so different from the patch of woods by my house with its 100-year-old oaks, towering birches, scraggly holly trees and abundant blueberries, creeping cedar, and ferns underneath. Our woods are a virtual jungle with ticks, opossums, raccoons, mice, chimpmunks, deer, stray cats, hawks, crows, and owls populating the land as the swaying giants menacingly threaten to fall on our home yet again.

I feel safer in the sturdy Iceland woods where trees are no taller than houses and underbrush is soft fallen fir needles. I know they need trees and are re-planting their land, but I most love the vastness their absence provides.

In the woods, I walk on soft muffled paths. I come upon a clearing where someone has built a gazebo and a swing, so inviting, so friendly.


Too chilly to swing, I continue on, meeting no one, until my yearning to see the sky overcomes my need to be cossetted in this dark quiet space. I climb a bright hill to a point where a large wooden creature greets me. I stand nose to nose, examining the grains of wood in its massive eyes. I ask it to share its wisdom which I absorb wordlessly.

Satisfied, I notice a clearing on the next hill and tromp through the ankle-deep snow to reach it.
















Poles of varying heights rise from the ground, apparently with purpose. I walk among them, count, mentally measure, and decide it's an Icelandic Stonehenge - sundial, season-marker, year-tally-er. I photograph it with the sun shining through it and striking it. I calculate the time: 11:30 or thereabouts. There's no daylight savings time in Iceland so no chance it's an hour later or earlier.

I begin to feel hungry so I turn away from the sundial and head elsewhere.















My wanderings lead me to a fallow field and a fence, easily breechable. A greenhouse complex is on the other side, huge hoses, dried decaying plant matter, steamy but empty greenhouses. I worry I'll be chased away, but I see no one as I traipse along the gravel paths over pipes and hoses, around piles and barrels, until I find the forest path again.

I hear before I see toddlers playing in another playground as their parents chat. I walk by, head ducked, wanting to be invisible. Please don't interrupt my solitude, my communion with Nature, my attempts to find the glorious.

The snow plow is hard at work when I return to my car but has thankfully left me space to leave. I pull out of the lot and consider where to turn - down the lane towards the greenhouses or back to the road from whence I came? I am filled with gratitude to have such a choice - no obligations calling me back, just freedom giving me any option I could dream up.

I feel a faint whiff of the grief and loneliness of the night before. It drifts across my consciousness like a cloud on a breezy day. As it disperses, I am surprised to notice that in its wake is joy. Freedom. Solidity. Courage. Contentment. Choice.

Once on the road, I turn away from town, ready to explore, trusting that all I need to know will be revealed.

And Life Flows In (#50)

Continued from the previous blog...

Awakening from the deep sleep that exhausted grief confers, I blew my nose to loosen the snot from tears still stuck. I got up to pee. The studio was lit by the skylights, dim in the mid morning late winter light. Curious, I returned to the scene of my pain. I touched the rough weave of the sofa - had I truly despaired so thoroughly just hours before?

I ran my fingers along the edge of my pastel paintings, wiped the dust on my pajama bottoms.

The kitchen beckoned. I couldn't stand the sound of the blender for a smoothie - I craved stillness where my Self could reverberate in the emptiness left after the feelings finally escaped.

Slowly I cut a slice of bread off the loaf. Waited, still, while it toasted. Took it out gingerly, not wanting the excess heat to burn my fingers. Butter, jam. A hard boiled egg's jiggle against the pan was too much activity so I settled for just bread and water.

The sounds of studded tires on icy cobblestone road accompanied by the Cathedral's quarter hourly chimes stirred me up too much.

I dressed warmly and drove to the forest outside of town. I parked in a small lot that had been plowed and took my camera for companionship. It was a bright blue sky day with fresh snow glaring all around. The crunch of icy snow underfoot made me watch my step when I wasn't awakening to the beauty all around me. As I awoke to the trees, the sky, the snow, the freshness, my emptiness was filling with life.

To be continued...

The Terrifying Force of Loneliness (#49)

(Continued from the previous post)

I found myself on the sofa in the residency, keening from the force of a lifetime of fear of loneliness hitting me full force.

I can still hear my voice, deep profundo roars from the bottom of my belly exploding up my windpipe, pouring out of my mouth.

I can feel the astonishment at its force and strength.

I can feel my concern that others might hear, but I couldn't care - who can stop a tidal wave with concern for the impoliteness of the wave?

I crashed against the sofa.

I rose and, like a drunk, tried to find solid support.

I fell, inconsolable, back onto the sofa.

Gulps and gasps for breath as sobs rose from my gut.

Squeezed shut eyes pouring tears. I wiped them off with my sleeve.

The ache, the utter destitution of knowing I am alone. ALONE.  There is no one to save me. No one to rescue me. No one to take care of me. I am alone on this Earth. Just me. I am responsible for me. It is no one else's job.

The agony crescendoed as my hopes and dreams crashed with life-threatening force on the rocks of reality.

No one to count on. Alone. All alone.

Friends, yes. Children, yes. Mother, yes. Husband, yes. But truly, fundamentally, existentially and forever alone.



Spent, my tears abated. I hiccupped as the awareness sank in - no one will ever meet my needs. That job is mine alone. No one will ever hold me to their breast and comfort me entirely. There is no magic bullet. No spouse will ever make me feel the love I've craved my entire life. It is mine and mine alone to do. I am alone.

And Being Pushed by my Distress (#48)

(Continued from the previous post)

Several years ago, coincident with my love affair with Iceland, I went through a very challenging time personally.  I became anxious and depressed when I wasn't able to affect changes in my environment which I desperately wanted to. I am such a "can-do" type person, when I feel thwarted, I rail against it. I crash my head into brick walls trying to knock them down. I attempt in every way possible to get rid of the barriers I perceive are standing in my way.  

This particular barrier was intractable, unmoveable, unchangeable by any force I could muster. My depression and sense of impotence was total. I railed against it. I lashed out. I cried and wailed and keened. Nothing.

Finally I stopped.

I surrendered.

I accepted that I was powerless and was trying to solve issues that weren't mine to solve. I went to Iceland to escape the pain and to live into my joy. The second part worked. The first part didn't.  I confronted the devastation of my belief I could do anything I set my mind to if I just worked hard enough. I went into my deepest fears.  I felt feelings I'd avoided my entire life. I entered the ocean of my agony without a life vest and let myself drown in the feelings I could no longer hold at bay.

The sounds of my agony must still be reverberating off the walls of the studio I was in. 

(to be continued...)

Akureyri 2017
Searching for Something

Following my Bliss (#47)

Sometimes I feel like I know what I'm doing.  I have a strong sense of direction in my life or in my art.  I love that feeling.  I wake up in the morning clear-headed, excited to begin the day, looking forward with anticipation to the loveliness lined up before me.

Bathed in Light,
oil on canvas
24"x30", $950
one of the Beyond Barbie Beauties

When I was in the midst of creating the paintings and performances for Beyond Barbie, my mind was alive with plans, ideas, the beauty of my models, meetings with other creatives, time in the studio, and more. I worked so hard and so relentlessly, I gave myself a six-month headache - literally - I leaned over the computer in ways that caused muscle tension that caused excruciating headaches.  I didn't understand much about moderation or that the headaches were caused by my actions, so I just plowed on through without stopping.  Those months and years were filled with exhilaration and pain and wonder and joy and excitement.  My dad died during that time, and I was hit with a load-of-brick depression I had trouble excavating myself out from under. But I persevered because I had a vision and was fueled by that vision to complete it.

A set of four images painted during this time,
after my father died, in response to his death and
events surrounding it.
titles (from Top L, clockwise): Grief,
Compassion,  Pleasure, Presence
oil paintings on canvas, framed as one piece
$2400

Beyond Barbie was a great time. A wonderful experience. I'd do it over again in a heartbeat if the opportunity presented itself - though I would learn how to treat my precious body with greater respect so I wouldn't have to contend with the headaches.

Since then (2011-13), I've had a few other projects which lit me up and turned me on. The major ones had to do with Iceland.  

Anyone who knows me at all knows I fell in love with that country while on a 3-day stopover on my way back from Europe in 2015. Since then, I've been back 4 times, leading tours of friends and their friends twice. I've lived in artist residencies and a cottage on the lake, I've traveled solo, with strangers, with my children and my husband. However I get there, and whatever I do there, it is my happy place. I thrive under the majestic blue sky with pure white clouds, on the volcanic, beautiful vast ground where my eyes see nothing but beauty.  I began painting landscapes because of Iceland. There was more beauty than I could contain inside myself so I had to express it through art. I want that beauty around me all the time. 

To be continued...

Midsummer Meadow
pastel
36"x30"
$1250
created after my first trip to Iceland.

Catching up on Creations

I've been quite delinquent in posting here the last few weeks!  I went out of town for a weekend and lost track of posting...

That doesn't mean, however, that I haven't been creating! I'll post a series of entries over the next few days highlighting the creations I've made since Feb 5 when I last posted.  This challenge hasn't turned out how I expected it to, but it's still working its magic for me.  I assumed I'd ceate a substantial pastel painting a day and would post that, telling the story of the scene from Iceland or the James River in each post.

Instead, I've gotten curious!  I have let myself wander and discover and try things out.  I've drawn and painted and collaged and tried new things I'd never done before.  I've worked with landscapes, as I expected to do, but I've also returned to the human figure - to female nudes, the first imagery I created way back when!

Having this goal of 100 Creations in 100 Days serves to get me into the studio when I might otherwise decide I don't have time since I only have 2 hours.  It's easier to watch a TV show or two.

A few of my friends have decided to set a goal of getting into their studios for an hour a day for 100 days and they are meeting with success as well.  It's fun hearing their excitement at building up a daily practice, and it's validating to hear their challenges as they certainly echo my own.

Have you ever set a goal like this for yourself? How did you fare? Would you do it again? What might you hope to get out of it?  I'd love to hear your experiences.

In the studio on a warm winter day with our cat Nube checking out the goings ons outside.

#31 of 100 Creations in 100 Days, Half Moon Rising

In Akureyri in 2017, the days could be achingly beautiful as on this day when the moon was rising gently over the stark white mountain across the fjord from the city.

During most days at some point, I left my cozy apartment/studio and walked past the art museum, the hotel, across the main street, past the photography store and tourist center.  I waited patiently for the red-heart-shaped traffic light to turn green then crossed the busy thoroughfare to the walkway by the fjord where the whale-watching ships waited for the tourists. I watched, astonished, as joggers dodged the ice, and wondered if I would ever attend an event at Hof, the cultural center standing sentinel over the shoreline.

I went to the water to drink in the beauty.  In my apartment, there were no windows framing the beautiful sites, only the grey snow-covered parking lot.  The sounds I could hear were studded tires racing down and grinding up the cobblestoned hill accompanied by the quarter-hour bells from the cathedral above me.  I went to the water to watch the ducks dive for sustenance, to hear the waves lap and the gulls caw, to have my ears and eyes filled with nature instead of assaulted by the sounds of man counting time or hurrying from place to place.

Half Moon Rising
pastel painting
18"x24"
$550 until 2/6, then $750

#19 of 100 Creations in 100 Days: Dettifoss Waterfall

When Chris and I were in Iceland in October, we decided to drive to Dettifoss Waterfall because it reportedly has the greatest volume of any waterfall in Europe, 500 cubic metres of water per second plunges over the edge. Sure enough, it was deafening and impressive!

The drive to Dettifoss on icy roads

The drive to the site was long and arduous as the roads were icy, and it was beginning to get towards sundown. I wasn't sure we'd make it with enough daylight to see the place!  Chris was concerned we would have to walk some distance to get to where we could see the falls - I didn't think that was the case because most tourist sites make it easy for tourists to get to the good places!  I was wrong!  

Me, happy in my crampons!

When we got there, the parking lot was emptying out.  We headed to the trail.  Immediately I began slipping and sliding even though I had my great hiking boots on.  I asked people coming off the trail what it was like and how far it was to the waterfall - treacherous the whole way and over 1/4 mile.  Oops!  Thank goodness I had my crampons in the car and Chris was generous enough to go get them for me because I was slipping every step of the way - I don't know what kept him upright - great balance, perhaps?  He had no crampons at that point.  

My glorious crampons!  Like bears'
teeth. A wonderful invention!

Once I had my fabulous crampons on, I could walk over the ice beautifully!  They have teeth like a bear trap so they dug into the ice with every step and kept me from falling really well.  Note:  if you decide to go to Iceland in the winter, get/take crampons!  

The "trail" to Dettifoss

The walk was still arduous.  The trail wasn't clear and obvious - rather, we could tell where people had gone before because the snow was better packed down and in some places there were ropes showing us where not to go.  The terrain was rocky, full of ancient rhyolite volcanic boulders and debris.

Once we got to the waterfall, I was disappointingly underwhelmed.  It was, to be sure, massive - and LOUD!  So much water!  Therefore impressive.  But not beautiful.  There wasn't much light and the water appeared very muddy, not the fabulous white of other falls I'd seen.  Perhaps it was so turgid, it was grey and brown instead of white - I don't know.  Or perhaps I was tired and couldn't see the beauty. A friend of mine posted a beautiful picture of it from a different observation point from the summer and it looked gorgeous, so clearly it has a lot to offer which I didn't see this time around!

Dettifoss Waterfall (for scale, note the size of the posts and ropes of the trail markers)

And here's the artwork I created in response to our trip to Dettifoss.  The CitruSolve papers provided the perfect texture for me to express the flow of the water and the challenge of walking on the ice and the challenging rhyolite rocks.  The image of the falls themselves is from a postcard I bought in the area.  It gives a better sense of the actual color of the water than my picture since there wasn't much light left when we were there!

#19 Response to Dettifoss