The Wonder-Wand

A sketch from page 5--this little person stands on my work desk and inspires me while I work.  Maybe it should have a name...any suggestions?

“The pencil is a little wonder-wand”, begins the photo essay “Fine Lines” in the January 14, 2018 edition of The New York Times Magazine . “YES!” I exclaimed to myself as I read those words, yes, at last, here is someone else who understands the magical power of that slim wooden stick.  

Because, face it, nothing else feels the same as that sensation of pulling or pushing a pencil across paper. Nothing sounds quite the same as the whisper of this tool as it makes its mark, a whisper made huskier by a rougher textured paper, more treble if the paper is smoother.

That slight vibration in the fingers as the line appears from pencil tip, the line that follows every move of your hand, reacting to the slightest change in pressure from your fingers--so soothing, mesmerizing. And such a variety of lines! From light and fine to darkest black and thick, they express emotions without words (but they can form words to express emotions as well).

By now, you can probably see that I really like working with pencils...which is one of the reasons I’m excited about The Sketchbook Project. Briefly, I will be filling in a blank sketchbook (with lots of pencil drawings!), and then submitting it to TSP, where my sketchbook will join many others at The Brooklyn Art Library, and be available for viewing there and online.

I’ve filmed a little bit of the process so far; stay tuned for more over the next few weeks (I have to complete this by the end of March).

And thanks, Sam Anderson, for so beautifully describing our mutual love for that marvel of creating, the pencil.

DOES THIS __________ MAKE ME LOOK _________ ?

A question we never want to have to answer, whether put to us by friend, family member or random changing room person: “Does this outfit make me look fat?” Even if the truthful answer is “yes”, none of us actually want to say that.   

But a friend's comment on one of my recent Instagram posts made me wonder:

Does this painting make me look joyful?  

I had posted a series of photos as I worked on, and completed, an abstract painting. And my friend Richard wrote: “You look like you are having the time of your life!”

“Am I?” I wondered. 

Certainly the usual worries and cares of a woman with a family and a mortgage still float around me.  

But still -- “the time of my life”?  

Certainly while I was working, I was wholly focused on creating, on making marks, placing bold strokes of color, maintaining a sense of the luminous while allowing the weight of the opaque shapes to press in. In that act of creating, yes, absolutely--

I was having the time of my life.

And so the question again: “Does this painting make me look joyful?” I hope the answer is “yes”--because that is the truth.

This is how the painting began--some watercolor crayons, some collaged tissue I had previously painted with watercolor.  Wanting the luminosity of the watercolors as foundation.

Moving along, I sprayed the watercolor crayons and let the drips form interesting shapes, added acrylics and areas of graphite. 

The opaque, muted blue is helping to define my composition more; it pushes on the transparent passages, creating a level of tension.

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The final painting: "Between a Rock and a Hard Place".  The blue continues to contain the light, holding it in. Are the yellow stripes at the bottom a ladder in or an escape route out?

THANKS, ALISON!

If you are reading this blog post, you can thank Alison Kolesar. http://www.alisonkolesar.com/paintings/

Not because it is by Alison (it’s not) and not because it’s about Alison (it’s not, exactly), but because on Friday morning at 8:30 I am going to talk to her and she is going to ask me if I have written a blog post.  

And I am going to be really disappointed if I can’t tell her that, yes, I did write AND post a blog.

You see, Alison is my current accountability partner.  Each week we call and speak with one another about what we’ve accomplished the previous week in our lives as artists.  We can complain, kvetch and confess (last week, I confessed that I had not met the goal I’d set of writing a new blog post). We encourage, empathize, and egg each other on in this journey, continuing to become the artist we each hope to be.

I’ve really benefited from accountability relationships like this over the past few years. First, it was a group of five of us who met monthly in a friend’s studio.  We shared meals and wine and goals, and they inspired me as I fulfilled a massive watercolor commission.  After a year, as that group reached its logical end, another group gathered, just four of us.  We met monthly, rotating houses, sharing tea and dreams.  Among the many tangible goals they helped me reach was putting up a cohesive solo show at NIH.

Still, this type of partnership is more than just checking off a to-do list.  When I try to describe what these relationships have meant, I am tongue-tied (if you can be tongue-tied on a computer); so I turn to the thesaurus, and that’s where I find all the words--literally, ALL the words under “encourage”: applaud, comfort, console, energize, galvanize, gladden, goad, just to list a few. I think the best description is “spiritually support”.

So, many thanks to past partners (in alphabetical order): Joyce, Kris, Lane, Leigh, Lori, Lynn, Mary.  

And now, on to working with Alison, which looks to be the most rigorous collaboration yet (weekly meetings! no wine!) After over 30 years of friendship,we’ve just begun this new phase. I’m looking forward to it!

"Syncopation" -- the solo show

Will I sound like a beauty show contestant if I say that I’m so honored and excited to have a solo show at 1st Stage? Well, if it does, so be it.  I am!  So here is what that really means:

A vibrant theater in a intimate setting, 1st Stage uses a portion of its space as an art gallery.  Art show dates coordinate with the theater productions.  “Syncopation”, will hang during the run of “My Name is Asher Lev” (adapted from one of my favorite novels by Chaim Potok)

To see “Syncopation”, you may:

1.    Come to the opening reception on November 19, from 5 to 7 pm.   I’ll be there and would love to talk with you about the art! No ticket required.

2.    Attend a performance of “My Name is Asher Lev”, described as “a humorous and compelling journey of a young Jewish painter torn between his Hassidic upbringing and his desperate need to fulfill his artistic promise…” (1st Stage).  You will have time to enjoy the art show at the same time.

3.    Make an appointment to stop by between 10:30 and 6:00 on a weekday by calling (703-854-1856) or emailing (emilywall@1ststagetysons.org) ahead of time. The staff would be happy to have you visit!

The theater is located off of Spring Hill Road in a sort-of-warehouse area called the Spring Hill Business Center that includes Dogtopia, a doggy day care.  While there is a sign for 1st Stage on Spring Hill Rd, along with those of number of other businesses, the theater itself is not visible from the street.  Drive into the parking lot; the theater is just beyond Dogtopia.

Hope you take the opportunity to enjoy the show!

THE CROWN -- BECAUSE I DESERVE IT

The Bestseller

My children have taught me so much over the years.  This time, I’m following in my middle daughter’s footsteps and crowning myself Queen.

On the first morning of her final year in preschool, Gillian got to choose her “sign” for the year, a shape that would be written on all her papers and embellish her cubby bag and everything else for that school year.  She chose a crown.  When I picked her up that morning, the conversation went like this:

Me [enthusiastic mommy voice]: What sign did you choose?

Gillian [insouciant, offhand]: The crown.

Me: Oh--you wanted to be the princess!

Gillian [with a look of tolerant disdain and tone of great condescension worthy of a member of the nobility or a teenager]: Princess?! No! I’m the Queen.

Now it is my turn to be the Queen--Queen of Procrastination, that is.  

I have been working on re-doing my website for months now.  Which actually means my friend Jodi Kolker Ferrier did a great job of setting up the new site and populating it with some of my work, and that I have not been working on it, but only thinking about working on it.

Now, today, finally, I have put a number of hours into really beginning to get it back into shape.  I’ve re-posted a number of blogs, and now I’m actually writing a new blog post, which hasn’t happened for...um...OVER A YEAR.

See?  I deserve that crown.

And the way I’m overcoming the procrastination is by following in that same daughter’s footsteps again, by heading out of the house to do the work.  She tended to head towards Starbucks; I’m finding my place at the local library.

As a way of thanking her for modeling good behavior to her mom, I’m posting this painting of her.

ART + HEALING

Devotion

[First published in January 2016]

Art is linked- whether it is in creating or experiencing it—with healing.  Experts tell us it’s true; perhaps you have experienced it.  I certainly have.

I’ve had the rather dubious privilege of spending time at several of the country’s leading medical establishments, caring for family members receiving treatment.  I say “dubious”, since I would rather that the family member not need the treatment; I say “privilege”, because the care they received has been excellent. 

At Duke Medical, the gentle sway of a Calder mobile reminded me that great strength can be disguised in something that appears delicate, and I found hope for the future of my dear mother-in-law.  I lost myself in landscapes while I waited for news from the operating room.  At the Mayo Clinic, my loved one and I reveled in the whimsy of gigantic Chilouly glass sculptures and Wharhol prints.  The art brought joy and respite from the grey, sterile world of testing and waiting.

Now it’s my turn to provide the art—and hopefully, some healing as well.

From now through March 4, 2016, I have eight paintings hanging in the West Alcove Gallery of the Hatfield Building at the National Institutes of Health.  

I’ll be writing more about the pieces in the future.  For now, though, I’ll close by stating my hope that these pieces will soothe and bind up wounded souls as thoroughly as the hospitals’ doctors and nurses care for physical ailments.

ART AND SOUL

My Cup Runneth Over

[First published August 2016]

Growing up, our dining room was always crowded—with people (remember, I am the fifth of six children), with furniture, with china, with pictures on the walls. And it was used.  We ate there daily; my memory is full of long dinners with family and friends, laughter, good food (I have never, ever eaten a better lemon meringue pie than my mother’s), even boredom.  Yes, boredom—so many long, grown-up conversations. 

I took it all for granted. 

But I took in more than I realized.  Among the pictures on the wall was a watercolor of a boat harbor.  I studied that on evenings of seemingly endless adult talk.

On hot summertime mornings at my grandmother’s dining room table, I stared at an oil painting she had done.  While shoveling spoonsful of Cream of Wheat into my mouth, my eyes consumed that impressionistic image of people promenading along a cliff walk. Its bright strokes of color and interlocked shapes penetrated deeply into my mind. I close my eyes and it is there still, along with her bustling care for me.

Early in their marriage, my eldest sister and her husband bought a glorious abstract painting that has held pride of place in each of their homes over the years.  And in each of their homes, family has gathered to laugh and share and eat and love one another, while that painting has blazed down with all its brilliance on us.

And so I realize this vital link in my life, in my growing up, in my becoming who I am—this conjunction of art with family and food.  It is a combination of spaces filled with the bounty of love, and lemon meringue pie, and the beauty of art.  My body was fed well—just as important, perhaps more important, my heart and my soul were fed as well.

GET READY, GET SET

Forbidden?

[First published March 2016]

Brushes? Check.  Paint? Check. Paper? Check? Dropclothes? Check.  Empty yogurt containers? Check. Paper towels, sponges, pencils? Check, check, check.  Brushes?! You already asked – CHECK!

I’m getting ready to go paint, as you might be able to tell.  Thing is, this time I will be painting in front of a number of people, about 200 women (well, maybe even more…) at The Falls Church Anglican’s annual Women’s Retreat in Annapolis, Maryland.

This is the second year that I’ve been asked to do this—I paint while our speaker is speaking, and while our worship band is playing.  I stand to one side of the speaker, and another artist (and dear friend!), Joyce McCarten, stands to the other side.  I paint in watercolor, she paints in acrylic. 

“Why do we do this?”, Joyce and I laughingly ask one another. 

But we know the answer well, though it is sometimes difficult to put a left-brained explanation on a right-brained experience.  It is because, as we paint and create, we worship our Lord in a way that is unique and uniquely beautiful.  As we create, we come closer to our Creator.  A simple explanation; a profoundly moving experience.

So, do I have all my equipment?  I sure hope so!  And, along with all the paint, brushes, paper, and pencils, I’m bringing my heart to worship.