I am developing a relationship with line. I’ve been working on this for a long time. I used to be free with my use of line, I was fearless. Somewhere along the way I started hating my lines. I didn’t want any to show in the final piece. I would cover everything up. Most of the time leaving a muddy mess. I’ve been working on restraint. I make a mark and leave it. I work on several at a time, going back and forth between them responding to the marks I’ve made. Yesterday I had two sessions in my studio. I was about to clean the kitchen while the babies took their nap. But I got the urge to go throw some paint around. I started with ink, drawing with my bamboo pen. Ink on my fingers. Adding watercolor, collage, and acrylic. I stand back to look. The work I’m doing excites me. Maybe I’ve gone too far already though. No time to sit and mull, I hear Jack and Fiona on the monitor, nap time is over. We eat our Burmese chicken soup with noodles and egg for lunch. It’s enough for all three of us. I clean the kitchen, scrubbing every inch of counter, trying to get rid of clutter. We take Billy for a stroller walk, it’s still humid. I’m sweating. Ramona is here now. I hand over Jack and Fiona. I’ve got more chores to do. I tackle my closet, it’s been weighing on me for a while now. I work for two hours cleaning, purging, and going to the bank. I have a little time left to work in my studio. I go in, it’s quiet. I put away the pieces from earlier. I prepare my paper. I decide to start with watercolor. Black, I use a small brush. I sweep the brush across the paper making imagery that comes from deep inside. I like what is happening. “USE RESTRAINT.” I say. “Trust yourself.” I say. I add collage, acrylic, and ink. “Why isn’t my mom here?” I ask. She would understand what I’m doing. We could talk about it, talk about painting, use of line and mixed media. We could talk about abstract art and go see shows. I can only speak to her this way. I can imagine what she’d say, what she’d like. It’s impossible to work in my studio without these thoughts. I’ve drank my whole French press of coffee again today. I think I might bring the babies into the studio to paint today. I’m really tired though, I woke up at 3 am with violent allergies. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I feel like the purging helped my work yesterday.
Tag: art
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I’m gonna be in my studio by 1:00. I need to go to tap plastic, the art store, and the grocery store. Bettina and Janie are coming over at 4. I’ll get the plexi glass first. “Hi I’d like a piece of 18×24 1/16” plexi.” His name tag says “In Training.” I need something off the rolls in the back too. I show him, he seems nervous and excited to be helping one of his first customers. He pulls out the plastic and I get 4 feet. He only charges me for one foot, I tell him he missed a couple of feet, he adds two more. I shouldn’t have said anything, but I still got one foot free. At the art store I get some more Lenox 100, Ingres, soft gel gloss, I get a feeling of excitement and possibilities, and fluid titanium white. Its hot today and my girlfriends are coming over so I put on a new little sun dress and pinned one side of my hair back. I feel sexy for a 43 year old housewife mom. I bring my items to the counter. I ask the staff “why is rives printmaking paper so expensive now?” The guy behind the counter say “This is why” and pulls up his sleeve and flexes his bicep muscle. I don’t get it, then he says “the French don’t like us.” Strange. Next stop Whole Foods. I try to hurry but get lost in choice. I want to get appetizers for my friends, fruit for the babies. I need to hurry, I need to get into my studio. I drop my box of strawberries putting my groceries on the belt. Shit, I just pick them up. The girl asks if I want new ones, I say no, I wash them anyhow. I get home, put the groceries away and make it to my studio by 1:30. I have 2 hours. I tear my paper, the Ingres feels really nice, it’s beautiful. I wet the paper, I think about when Joab and I made our collaborative glue and gold piece at Cal State Hayward. We would pour glue and powdered gold and silver I would get from Amsterdam Art. It turned into a huge monster of a sculpture. I start with watercolor, I pour out all the tubes and pick sepia. I take a paint brush, one of the last ones that’s not hard and ruined. I start to put marks on the paper, the paint stains beautifully, I am taken back to the series of watercolors I made right after my mom died. Figures start to emerge, I feel uncomfortable. I’m not ready to go back to figurative work yet. I work with line and a bamboo pen. I finally get the technique and can’t believe it took so many years. A nice light touch creates a nice line. I emerge into the creative process, adding paint, collage, layers. I’m afraid to look at the time. I’m scared it’s later than I want it to be. I get some I really like and another pile of rejects. I look at the time. It’s 3:30. Shit. I’m bummed, but excited to see my friends and drink some wine. I clean up, take one last look. What am I going to do with all these paintings? I have so many, I’m making some new ones I really like. I can’t get anything else framed. I have a shit load of great pieces framed. I need to line up a show. But what about the framing part? I’m leaving now, I’m leaving my studio and these thoughts for the night.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 