A Rainy Day
September 8, 2010 by Janice · 1 Comment
Pencil, 80lb Paper, Janice Cartier, September 2010
Color Pencil, 80lb Paper, Janice Cartier, September 2010
Rain bands from Hermine are kicking up outdoors, heavy puddle splashing drops are what I hear. And waves of wind, gentle ( from my perspective) but enough to still be a tropical storm. It’s the bands. The rhythm and the time of year.
Kind of cozy. And more familiar. Actually soothing to my bones. A cradle rocking.
I have something for such a rainy day. These color blocks are coming out to play. The light is dark outside. The clouds are dense.
So I am going to play indoors.
Make these a little bigger.
And bring…
my empty vacant mind…
to the steady rhythms that I hear…
And the tones and colors in the boxes,
As I see if they will scale.
I think it sounds like a lovely way to spend…
And indoor cozy day.
Unleashing
Color bands and rhythms of my own.
Yes,
The artist smiles..
And listens.
Very important to listen
In private studio
How ’s your Wednesday going?
Brown
May 28, 2010 by Janice · Leave a Comment
Watercolor, 300lb. D'Arches Paper, Janice Cartier, 2010
Not oil saturated brown here, but clear sepia brown. Consider this a minor victory.
Seriously.
And next to it, a lovely red hued brown, a central upright branch. And over by the greens…a more yellow hued brown.
So far, it’s still clear and resilient and bright in this painting.
These are first layers and may stand as they are. Or I may deepen them.
Out of these depths, colors will dance.
There’s a kinetic quality in the wetlands that absolutely vibrates when you’re in them. I know, from a distance wetlands look rather tame. Low country. Flat. So what.
Hah.
Ask me about canopies sometime.
Calder birds in flight, some poised before a strike, Miro sharks in the water circling rich hunting grounds. In the wet sands at low tide? Clams snapping, and oysters filtering currents as they flow by. Pops and squirts. Open and close.
Dragonflies hum, in their two week span of life.
Racoons scurry.
Grasses flit, and flirt.
Shrimp swim.
So in this brown, this sepia mink,
I like it better rich and clean.
Motions are unimpeded.
Hearts beat strong and steady and dance to an eternal tune.
The colors, the shapes to come …
Need fertile ground.
Brown.
I like it better clean.
And rich.
And vibrant.
And loved.
I am off to paint some more…but later? I propose we raise a Naughty beverage or two to those guys on the front lines. My boots are embarrassingly clean.
More Paint
May 12, 2010 by Janice · 1 Comment
Watercolor, 300lb D'Arches Paper, Janice Cartier, May 2010
The sky in the puddles is starting to show and so far no oil spill creeping in. There’s more clean fresh good paint pouring on to this piece. Sky puddles, muddy waters and greens. And bits of rhythm keeping orange. And so far, intuition is keeping the dark, dark ooze out.
But I have to say, I expect somewhere there will be a stick or shadow, or tiny tip of black (which I never, or so rarely as to be the same as never, use ) hidden somewhere in the layers.
But I like the vibrancy so far. I want to bring that along as far as I can. Keep it pure.
Then maybe a hint of encroachment.
Maybe.
Because this is about source. And sources.
We tend those well, right? We nurture and replenish and filter to keep those flowing and pure right?
Perhaps, encroachment is an entirely different piece. Perhaps I’ll let the brush and pigment lead. Let it tell me.
So more paint. Intuitive paint. No judgement just yet… but I did notice a different dark in the brown down by the green leaves.
Funny that. Now I ‘m intrigued.
What? You thought I was in charge of this?
The artist smiles…as Fats Waller said, “One never knows do one?”
Sometimes I get a surprise.
Open and flowing in private studio…that’s just how it is.
More paint. Let’s just let more paint flow.
What about you? Do you allow your work to morph on its own? Do you leave space for that?
The Truly Creative Mind
September 16, 2009 by Janice · 10 Comments
The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: a human creature born abnormally sensitive. To him a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create , create, so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.~ Pearl S. Buck
I had copied that out some weeks ago. Put it aside. Then this past weekend as I was organizing some papers, I came across it again, and put it to the forefront of all my papers. Pulled it out so I could see it frequently.
Because it is true, but mostly I did it so I wouldn’t feel so awkward. So different. I am not surrounded by other artists at the moment. And I am compelled to just make marks…and to write words, certain words and certain recurring marks but without whole form yet. Still raw process. Awkward.
I am truly considering submitting some work to some of my writer friends too. Words. Not pictures. Just to see what they would say. Awkward. I never do that. My writer friends are all quite successful. Beseiged you can imagine, by queries. They write best sellers. Yeah. My little paragraphs pale. But I still do them. And I actually quite like it. Who knew?
I have been asked to do a book several times, one with words and pictures, but it never gelled for me, I never quite knew the organizing factor for it and life interrupted in huge ways. I haven’t known ( still don’t really ) the how of it. Only what I would hope the tone to be.
How can you sell someone on tone?
A book about nothing.
And everything.
Just tones and what happens inside.
The marks though, the urge to make marks and the urge to make prose poems to go with them is staying with me. To work a pictorial series and a word series hand in hand. Accessing story that way? Making something that seems true and real.
Like some kind of musical score.
I like that.
But I am not a composer.
Not a trained writer either.
I am a painter.
But I know about tone and intention.
And color and marks.
And sometimes the words go together nicely.
In rhythms.
Hm.
It’s the how of it that’s confusing. But there’s a really strong desire to make something of meaning.
And there’s my love of books.
So I look at her words and mine. Again and again. And ponder which friend I might impose upon…
awkward.
Embarrassing. Intimidating…
But…
The artist smiles.
What’s the worst that could happen?
AND how come this is scarier to me than a force five hurricane?
And did you count how many times I used the word awkward?
Sheesh.
Somedays are just…
awkward…
on the precipice.
Letting Go
April 8, 2009 by Janice · 11 Comments
To get to another shore you have to let go of the one you are on. I am really not sure what the next piece is. But I am excited about it. Really. I have no idea, except that it is about migration, travel, and letting go.
Welcome to process between the signposts.
Yesterday as I was working, tracing some thoughts, the drawing for another painting planted itself clearly in front of me. It is the pencil drawing in the photo. It has notes attached to it that tell me I want to explore the lines intensely, tonally. Become absorbed in them. Give myself over. And when I am done, cut it up. Yes. You heard me, cut it up, an exquisite drawing or painting. 16 equal parts and then place them at random. Like a puzzle of itself. The graph paper for the plan is just under the drawing you see. And there’s a blue post-it too with some brilliant notes on it about this becoming an abstract piece on raw canvas. Unstretched canvas. Very refined lines on a raw edgy ground. I did this drawing some time ago. And put it aside.
It’s been there waiting for me.
And now when I am listening to jazz about “across the tracks blues” and working on the Chaos series, it plops itself right down in front of me . “NOW. Trust me. Now.”, it seems to say.
So I pulled out a brush and some subtle color and some handmade paper from Thailand. NOT watercolor paper again. It’s a paper that Kiki Smith uses. I have so far used it for drawings of shells. But there’s something I want to try. This seems like the time to do it. The pencil drawing was planned before the storm. The graph is recent. And this seeming randomness, well that is the hand of John Scott gently putting this here, now. There is something I haven’t discovered yet. There is something of trains and travel and letting go that I need to know in this.
And there are necessary lines.
Really. I picked up the brush and the lines flowed. Not perfect, not fussy, just the ones that have to come out of me. The necessary lines. And they felt good. I just let go and did it. The brush fairly floated, or it floated in some places. The paper responds quite differently than “normal” paper. And in those places it did not float, where the resistance was, I went back to the well and added a bit more water and wash.
Hm, this feels very, very good. Breathe. Flow. Let go.
The best, most relaxed simple lines and washes. First washes, first lines. And then the next step came to mind. It requires another different paper and maybe some pencil lines. Hm, or maybe ink. Or maybe both. Not sure. I’ll try them all. See what needs to be there.
Letting go to get where I want to go. This feels very right. As a friend recently said, just commit and jump in. So that’s what we ‘re doing.
And by we I mean you, too…Hah, you think I ‘m jumping alone? Got a project that’s been niggling at you? Why not experiment?
When the Little Buddha Comes Out
April 3, 2009 by Janice · 10 Comments
At a crossroads. When the little Buddha comes out (yes that little red one there) we, and by we I mean I, but you’re here too, so WE are at a crossroads. I wasn’t exactly aware that that is when I would put him in photos in my starter blog, but this morning I reached for him and then the aha struck. So read “homo viator at crossroads” when you see him. Sometimes signposts are clear. Sometimes we haven’t a clue. Sometimes I grab the little Buddha and look at his silent smile.
Doesn’t everyone?
Because I did not sleep last night. Oh, maybe for a couple of hours, but not much. I did not paint yesterday. Oh, I worked a bit, but not much. I researched some ideas and watched a performance by Wynton Marsalis and the Lincoln Center Jazz group. Several times. And I puzzled while I enjoyed it so, right down to my bones.
That song.
And everything it brings to me. It has me mesmerized. It is speaking to me so strongly that I know I have to listen. It’s a blend of warmth and cool. Of blues and sheer strength of harmony, resilience, and trains. Trains? I. Had. To listen. To that song. It came to me in sheer randomness. And again I say, or did it?
Could I base a painting on a song? I’ve done that before, but not in the way this is coming to me. I have just three spots on the current piece to finish up. That song is not about this piece.
So what’s it doing here?
And then I got an unexpected email last night. One that is a personal challenge. The reason I couldn’t sleep. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, just a very very difficult thing. We can be as brave as we want, but pain still hurts. Even if it leads to something better. Finding a way to deal and live with that anyway, that’s the trick isn’t it? Not letting it lead.
So the little Buddha is out. The orange and color that surrounds him up there is a comfort to me. And a message. Just as is that song…so I think today. I will just listen. Trains and jazz and me? What’s it saying? Well, I suspect there is a wetland in it somewhere. Wanna bet?
So far that little Buddha is not talking.
What about you, do you have some kind of touchstones that you gravitate to when you’re standing at a crossroads? When you have to dig down deep? Some little thing that when you hold it, steadies you or just feels good to the touch?
And could you please pass me an extra Naughty Margarita? And get one for yourself. WE have earned it don’t you think? Have a great weekend everybody.
Fascinating Rhythms
March 30, 2009 by Janice · 4 Comments
We live in interesting times. Fascinating rhythms, just when we could have gotten real boring. As some things deconstruct on their own, others, we could actually take down ourselves. There’s real opportunity to put something else, or many something elses in their place.
Of course there always has been that opportunity. And some people do that all the time. It’s “how they roll”, as the saying goes.
Fascinating or no, artists tend to like rhythms and routines. Structure. We like to have the essentials of daily living down to a recognizable pattern. Surprising? Here’s why we do. It affords more latitude, more ”what if” attitude in the studio. Gives us that window of percolation that we have to have.
Why do you think I always come back to this Organizing Monday post on , um , Mondays? Strength of discipline. Sure. Organized brain. Sure. Tidy little work life? LOL…….
Okay…still chuckling.
It’s so my little artistic brain and heart won’t entirely explode and run off the tracks.
I am actually known for being organized among my colleagues. And in Santa Fe a whole new set of people/artists got to see me be prolific because of it. But right this minute. I NEED, not want, NEED this ritual of Mondays to keep my right brain from scampering away and leaving the left one in the dirt.
It has some textures, some lines, some experiments it wants to make. It has seen a window or two and is , oops just let me grab it…just a sec. And it wants to chuck all the very practical and income earning things the left brain is pointing to and just run free. Dance over paper and canvas.. construct even…tie paper in knots and paint it? What? Story board abstract little films? Who let it out again?
Here’s the real dirt…I have been looking around for awhile, and seeing the most amazing things. I put them all in to sift and filter a bit, stuff the ideas, the what if’s in a drawer or a notebook. Well, now some of them are patting out a rhythm. Calling out to me. Yes I know I set this up, asked for it. But I have fiscal goals too. I have to restore my income, find new collectors, new galleries. You know, earn a living?
So Mondays, are like deciding the difference between need and want. Sometimes they are remarkably similar. Sometimes one is the change that brings the other. Now figuring out which is which, there’s the trick. But my plan has room for both. So the plan is addressed on Mondays…but that right brain has already found a loophole. Its wriggle room/spot in the plan.
See I don’t forget you buddy, it’s right there see? And won’t that be fun. Listen. That rhythm you hear, well that’s my right brain tapping out anticipation.
Do you have a way that you channel yourself? Allow for the innovation to work right along with what you’re working on? I guess I am asking if you have scheduled innovation time in your plan? And if you don’t, why not?