On the Road Again

Claudette Gamache, pastel painter, shares some her techniques with us during the MFA Weekend Seminar at Heartwood College of Art.
Photo by Bonnie Faulkner

It's amazing to see a pastel painting from the beginning (note red/orange base layer in previous photo) to the near finished creation. What a transformation!
Above: Pastel Landscape by Claudette Gamache.

Photo by Bonnie Faulkner

Back in Lubec in my own studio, I have begun encaustic painting on the surface of my "chakra pods". This six-part sculpture is far from done....Check back later on for the finished work!

While packing sake sets for a gallery, Bouli thought it might good idea to pack herself in a box.

New gallery, IRONBOUND, located at 37 Bayview Street, Camden, will be carrying my pottery work. It's an amazing two-floor space and I am excited to be on board! (due to open Spring 2012)

IRONBOUND owner, Joy Armbrust, shows off her enthusiasm for power tools and the remodeling process in her new Camden gallery. I think you can tell from this picture that she exudes much optimism, gratitude and "joy" for this new adventure.


ANNOUNCEMENT
Lubec Arts Alive
A short film by noted filmmaker Jon Wing Lum
depicting a community-inspired week of art

Mural painted during Lubec Arts Alive 2009 under the direction of Natasha Mayers, located at the Lubec Historical Society. Funded in part by a grant from the Maine Humanities Council and the Maine Arts Commission. Photo by Goodman/Van Riper Photography.

Featuring
Union of Maine Visual Artists and the People of Lubec

Tune in to watch it on ABC TV
Sunday, March 25th, 3:00 PM
Airing on WVII out of Bangor
Warner Brothers Channel 8, Dish or Satellite Channel 7
Viewing area Rockport to E. Millinocket / Oakland to Machias

This 36 minute film documents the one week residency of thirteen artists in Lubec, Maine to "art-up" the town. Artists including Robert Shetterly, Natasha Mayers, and Kenny Cole, Rose Marasco, and Richard Brown Lethem joined Lubec community members to create a history mural and installation art for businesses. Over thirty portraits of local personalities were created and oral histories documented.

"Lum's film is a poignant portrayal of artists, art making, and sense of place in a small town during the summer of 2009."

I missed a week of blogging and am now "on the road again" trying to sneak in an hour or so to get my thoughts down on paper. Well, not paper. Keyboard and screen more like it. The past two weeks have flown by with lots of excitement but at the same time, have offered me some peaceful and relaxing moments. I am attempting to bring more non-work time into my life. It is a challenge, but am learning that pacing the self will work best in the end. The rabbit and the hare, right?

This weekend I am enjoying two nights at the Samoset Resort in Rockland. Things are hopping here with the annual Fisherman's Forum. I am not here for the forum, but the lively energy is all around us. Last night Chris and I peeked our heads into the ballroom where an auction was in progress. Not the typical auction, mind you. Rain gear and lobster traps were the coveted items, complete with an auctioneer who boasted a thick downeast Maine accent!

This morning I delivered work to a new gallery that is opening later this spring. IRONBOUND, housed in a gorgeous brick building in downtown Camden, will be a primarily sculpture space. The owner, Joy Armbrust, is a real pleasure to work with. It is evident that she is passionate about art and her journey has been an interesting one for sure. I look forward to this new adventure and partnership.

Last weekend I was in Kennebunk for our MFA weekend seminar at Heartwood College of Art. These weekend residencies fill the soul. I am fortunate to move along in a pod with a group of other women artists/teachers who are passionate about art and the art process. The roundtable conversations are deep and inspiring, the food filling, and the hands-on workshops offer up lots of great techniques that can be transferred to both the studio and the classroom. I feel so incredibly honored to be in the midst of such strong and focused women.

This semester we had the privilege of learning under pastel painter Claudette Gamache. Her talent with pastels and her patient, nurturing, and intuitive teaching style made for a wonderful first-pastel experience for me. I love to draw and am quite comfortable with oil pastel, charcoal, pencil, and conte, but the color and soft powdery, lush, sticks of pigment were a new experience and I feel a bit more comfortable with the material than I did before the workshop. There is much more to the process than one would expect - but those steps that I had never seen demonstrated before made handling of the material a much more confident experience.

The next three months will go by quickly as I juggle a myriad of projects. I am in production for the spring season and preparing to have my pottery at three or four new venues this summer. Teaching at school gets wild in the spring, too. Projects' Night is just over two months away and there is lots to be accomplished in the classroom before the big student art show goes up. A new website is in the works, too, and requires a hefty amount of rewriting and photo shoots.

I am in the process of researching the factory industry in Lubec and find myself enthralled by all the old photos and the images of huge buildings and a bustling downtown. These factories, for the most part, do not exist anymore. Barely any evidence other than remnant foundations or photos. I am creating an installation sculpture based on the factories, planned to show in June 2012. It will be months of work for about three weeks of display, but I am excited since this will be my first installation-type piece. I have been thinking about it for the past few months and the physical part of the project is just beginning. I have easily a couple hundred hours of work ahead of me and know the clock is ticking. I still am trying to get my head around the "how-to". There is some compromise between what I would like to do and what is feasible. But, this is a beginning, and in every new process, I learn a bit more to take to the next project. I have always had some sort of connection to buildings and feel incredibly sad when I see a building heading toward its demise. I am in a way sensing the pain and loss of our community for these buildings that once existed. Not only was a means of employment and stability lost, but also a sense of identity. My installation sculpture will touch on just one tiny detail in a two-hundred year history.

Tonight we wine and dine Mom amidst birthday cheer. I am not even sure how old she is. We kind of lose track of the numbers as we get older. I am expecting lots of laughter tonight and some majorly satisfied salivary glands. Soon Chris and I trek back to Lubec to sequester ourselves into our respective creative spaces. The cats will no doubt be bent out of shape over our two night disappearance. Hopefully some tuna and catnip will remedy the situation in a timely manner.

A New Semester Begins at Heartwood College of Art

Below is a recent piece that I finished, a three dimensional model for an installation
about military recruitment.

Let's Make a Deal
Shanna Wheelock, 2011
3D model for installation, 36" x 24" x 12"
Wood, ceramic, fabric, paper, acrylic paint, found object

Let's Make a Deal

(front side, view from top)

Let's Make a Deal: Curtain #1

Let's Make a Deal: Curtain #2

Let's Make a Deal: Curtain #3

Let's Make a Deal
(backside, view from top)

This week marks the beginning of my fifth semester in the Heartwood College of Art MFA program. I have spent the past couple weeks working out some new ideas and soon I will be able to step into the studio to begin the physical manifestation of my visualizations. It's kinda funny how the process works. Two weeks ago I felt solid about my plan, but then my mentors chimed in with their thoughts and it gets me to rethinking everything. Ultimately, the decision becomes my own, but there's just enough of a curve ball to make me doubt, then eventually come to a space where I once again feel comfortable with my (sometimes altered) direction. The thing about direction, though, is that it can change in a flash. Sometimes we choose this way or that, and sometimes we are veered by another force. Much of life is a combination of both.

Joining the program at Heartwood has had profound effects on my thinking and actions as an artist, teacher, and human being. A program such as this is NOT your typical educational experience where you step into a classroom, listen to a lecture, take notes, then recall facts for an exam. It is unfortunate that much of education is that way. Instead, with the MFA program at Heartwood, we are forced to think and create our own path. We have mentors who guide us in the process, who provide an immense amount of feedback, and offer an objective eye. It's easy, as the artist, to be too attached to your work and idea that you can forget that other eyes see and interpret your work in different ways. Art is, after all, a powerful form of communication, and we all know how lines of communication can get tangled!

So, I am beginning a new semester and am eager to jump into the materials. I have two spaces in which I do most of my creating - one being the dark 'neath earth dingy, clay-dust clad cave where I sit at the wheel or sculpt with clay. The other space, in much contrast, is part of my home - a favorite nook with a futon where I can get warm and cozy while I sketch, research, and write. I hop between the various spaces depending on which part of the process is on tap for the moment. The past few days I have spent time reorganizing my spaces, clearing out the supply closet, and taking inventory, all the while allowing the art images to flow through my mind. I have a couple of sculptural goals this spring, one being to create an installation piece for an upcoming show in June, and the other to work with a specific color. Color. Such a simple concept, right? Well, color is what I would consider one of my personal areas of struggle. I am very much comfortable with form, which makes sense since I am a sculptor. It will be interesting to see the path my work takes this semester. It's always a surprise for me. No matter how attached I feel to a plan, inevitably, things change along the way.

I will still continue to hone my skills as a juggler in the circus of life. Yep. Multitasking at its finest. I am bumping up production with my pottery and setting new goals, balancing my sculptor and potter self with my teacher self, all the while continuing to teach art in public school.

One of the major pluses about the MFA program at Heartwood is that it is both part-time and low residency. It's not an online course even though I use email for some correspondence between campus meetings. Rather, it is a program where we meet on campus twice a semester for intensive seminar weekends and presentation critiques. The schedule was specifically created for people just like me, who might be teaching or working some other job. Luckily most students in my pod are teachers and we not only support each other in our teaching roles, but we work on a similar timeline. It's perfect for the self-motivated working artist who needs flexibility in scheduling. Two courses a semester is half a full time MFA program so it takes a bit longer to get my MFA, but I couldn't imagine trying to handle a full time program on top of my other work commitments.

Speaking of commitments, I am continuing my work with Lubec Arts Alive and we are getting ready to begin planning for this next summer's event. Some of our committee members (well, more than half!) are in other locations for the winter months so it will be a gentle re-entry into community planning mode until everyone is back in town and on board. Time to get the binder organized and go over last years event to see what goals should be set for future, and check in on the financials. I love community organizing - but absolutely hate fundraising. Luckily - our community has been very generous with supporting artistic endeavors - both financially and with volunteering. Thank you!!!!!

It's a quiet Sunday morning so far. Mom has been visiting us here downeast. We've enjoyed a relaxed schedule and time to talk. Meals have been a notch above the typical food prep in our kitchen, and that has been quite enjoyable. (see pic below). Today she heads back home to central Maine - where life moves at a different pace with lots of traffic, strip malls, hordes of people, and appointments. Winter in Lubec is a whole different experience. Hopefully she heads home feeling well-rested and rejuvenated. Me, I'll snuggle into that futon for a reading and sketch session then head down into my cave to see what kind of earthly mess I can get myself into.

Link to Cobscook Pottery on Facebook - become a fan!

link to: Bouli's Fan Page on Facebook

Many years off and on as a vegetarian I have succumbed to culinary pleasures recently that include four legged, winged, and finned beings. The guilt was particularly piqued two nights ago when talking to the little lobster before she met her unfortunate demise. While I felt a certain degree of guilt before, during, and after consuming the sweet crustacean, Bouli did not exhibit one iota of remorse. Turns out she quite enjoys lobster and makes no apologies for it.

And - for you poetry buffs out there..some links about my husband's writing.....

link to Bangor Daily article
http://bangordailynews.com/2012/01/03/living/lubec-poet-wins-national-competition/

link to chapbook:
http://themedullareview.com/Chris_Crittenden_Chap.html

Lastly, a link to an interview with Chris that was recorded and archived last summer by Jane Crown's Poetry Radio. Ecellent interview. takes about 15-20 minute before the conversation gets rolling with some excellent poetically philosophical banter...it's an hour long....but well worth the listen.
http://www.janecrown.com/show_download_page.html

Heartwood College of Art and Colored Porcelain

Colored Porcelain, fired pieces
by artist Karen Orsillo

Karen Orsillo demonstrates the "scallop pattern" technique

My first colored porcelain piece in greenware form
Colors will intensify when fired (see Karen's examples at top of page)

Colored porcelain slab vessel in greenware stage
by Shanna Wheelock


I've been a student in the MFA program at Heartwood College of Art for almost a year and a half. The low-residency, part-time masters program is a unique educational opportunity in Maine. I had been searching for such a program for several years, one that would feed my soul as an artist and a teacher while allowing me to continue to live and work in my own little nook downeast. The program is perfect for educators and I feel fortunate to be in a pod with my art-teaching colleagues, though the program is equally satisfying for those who are not teachers. It is not an online program, rather "low-residency" which means that the time we spend on campus is consolidated into short but intensive weekends. I carry a two-class load and am generally on campus two weekends a semester: one three-day "weekend seminar" and an end-of-semester one-day presentation. In between weekend meetings, I keep in constant contact with my mentors and advisers. This allows students to work toward their degree while keeping up with their normal workplace responsibilities in their hometowns. At Heartwood, MFA candidates hail from all over the country. Some fly-in for their weekend intensives, others endure the lengthy hours-long drive like me. But it's all worth it.

I had looked into the popular MFA programs at Portland School of Art and Vermont College of Fine Arts. These programs both proved to be prohibitive for me for two reasons: cost and time required on campus. Even though they are both low-residency models, and excellent programs, they moved along at a full-time rate and required more than I could offer while working full-time. At my first art teaching job in central Maine, teachers were required by contract to have their Masters degree within five years. At that time I worried because no program existed that fit my specialty area and needs. Those programs would have required me to miss several weeks of work each year. Heartwood College of Art really did tap into the the needs of the working artist, creating a program that filled a niche for art teachers, at a reasonable per-credit hour cost. If this program had existed when I was first teaching, I would have hopped on board immediately.

Heartwood College of Art is a small school in comparison to the bigger city art colleges, but that has proved perfect for me. Set in beautiful Kennebunk, Heartwood plays host to a myriad of professional art studio spaces: ceramics, painting, drawing, fiber arts, sculpture, metals, printmaking, photography, etc. The staff is incredibly personable and working closely with professors and advisers, I feel validated in who I am as an artist. With pods, I have had the opportunity to build close relationships with my peers, mentors, and advisers, and that understanding of one another allows for open dialogues that nurture each student along his or her personal learning path. The way we learn and are treated is an excellent model for how I, as a teacher, choose to work with my own students.

I read an article earlier today in an online science digest about happiness and success. It stated that spirituality is more important than religion in the development of these two things in a child. It did not specify specific spiritual paths, but rather the qualities that accompany a spiritual path - specifically the building of self-esteem through self-awareness. I have always stated that the most important work that I do as a teacher, the greatest gift I try to bestow upon my students, is a sense of self-esteem through the success and enjoyment that they encounter while creating works of art.

It is so refreshing to be part of a masters program where this is happening to me as well. Being a student again gives me new perspective, puts me in my students' shoes per say. I am reminded to always keep in mind the importance of what I am doing, both as an artist, and as a student. I am reminded that it is not always about creating a perfect finished piece, but about the journey we take while creating. In the process we filter through our own life experiences. Who we are is illustrated in our artwork. We may not recognize ourselves immediately in the work that we create, but eventually we start to read the images the way we do a written biography. We decipher the symbols and clues and begin to have those ah-ha moments where the pieces of the puzzle fit together. I had this experience with the current sculpture that I am working on. At first, I didn't understand where the vision came from, but now, two months into the working phase, I am finding all kinds of correlations to my family's and my own life experiences. It really is an amazing feeling to begin to make sense of things in one's own life. Art is the perfect vehicle for this.

Recently I attended the spring semester weekend intensive at Heartwood. The weekends are broken down into different activities including critiques, discussion groups, lectures, and an all-day workshop where we learn new skills that can be applied in our work as artists and teachers. I love all parts of the seminar and though the weekend leaves one exhausted from the packed-pace, it is also highly inspiring. This spring, we had the honor to learn colored porcelain techniques from master artist Karen Orsillo.

Colored porcelain technique involves wedging stain powders into the clay. Once thoroughly mixed, clay is stacked in varied patterns and sliced. Then, the process is repeated until desired patterns are accomplished. The finished pattern blocks are then sliced into thinner panels which can be used for handbuilding. Sometimes the patterned slabs are inlaid into other clays, sometimes they are simply formed as-is. The process requires a delicate hand to attain a certain level of precision. But as Karen said, almost anything you do looks awesome! It is a bit tricky deciding on color combinations as the stains in powder form translate differently when fired. Such is the case with most ceramic glazes, too. For example, the dark blue stain is pink in its raw powder form. The slab platter that I made, as well as the taller vessel, (see photos above) will not be pastel after a cone 8 oxidation firing. Rather, they will be a bold combination of black, rutile, dark blue, and green. What's extra nifty about this high fire process is that the clay is vitrified when fired to temp, meaning that it is water-tight. No glaze is required unless one desires a glossy surface for aesthetics.

I poked around on the web for colored clay sites and found some interesting work by an artist named Vince Pitelka. His architectural sculptures resonated with me, and he explains the process and materials well. It's worth a look!

It's good to be back to blogosphere. The last few weeks I have been preoccupied with other life happenings and look forward to soon jumping back into my artwork. I have been working on a couple new sculptures and plan to have them complete by May. Spring in hectic as my teaching responsibilities kick into high gear (more so than usual believe it or not!). If you are in Lubec, check out the mask show at Lubec Memorial Library, on display March and April. Folks have lent masks from their personal collections, as well as their own handmade pieces. Three of my felted masks are included as well as masks made by some of my 6th, 1st, and 2nd grade students. Grades 3 and 4 are making awesome paper mache masks right now. Unfortunately, they weren't finished for the exhibit deadline. I love masks!!!!

Weekend Seminar at Heartwood College of Art

Encaustics and brushes warming on the aluminum hot plate

Artist Kim Bernard facilitated the Saturday encaustics workshop.

Three pomegranates: the actual fruit, clay with acrylic paint, and clay with encaustics.

Wendy Burton created a gorgeous cool-blues and greens Monet-ish encaustic painting.

The Kennebunk Inn on Main Street was all decked-out for Halloween.
Considered one of the most haunted inns in Maine!!! (I had my own very strange experiences while staying there last weekend...so I am inclined to agree with this assessment!)

The old Fort Knox bridge, engulfed in pea-soup thick fog.

I just returned from my fall weekend seminar at Heartwood College of Art. The part-time, low-residency MFA program is an excellent choice for teachers because it works around the teaching schedule with weekend meetings, snail-mail, phone and web communication, and a studio component which is primarily done in your own studio. This semester I am in close-contact with two mentors and an advisor and so far the feedback has been phenomenal, keeping me on my toes, on track, and in critical thinking mode probably far more hours than previously-thought sanely possible.

Our "pod" meets once a semester for a three day seminar that is jam-packed with conversations, presentations, critiques, and my favorite, a hands-on workshop where we experiment with a new art medium. I look forward to the weekend seminar for many reasons, one of which is to reconnect with the other students. We have the perfect pod with excellent chemistry. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that we are all art teachers who are also serious about our own work as artists. This passion for both teaching and creating filters down to our "back-home" school students, and that same openness and nurturing is shared amongst our own peers in the Heartwood program.

Every part of the finely structured three-day seminar is meaningful, but the encaustics workshop really had my heart this time around.

A lot of my friends have learned encaustics from Kim Bernard. I was ecstatic to learn that I too would have an opportunity. The one day workshop only touched on the very beginning of what is possible with encaustics, but it was enough to get us rolling. Kim is an accomplished artist as well as a fabulous teacher who exudes immense confidence in her medium as well as a love for the history and technique. It was interesting to learn that mummy tombs were painted with encaustic techniques, and that today, those artworks still exist in good condition.

Encaustics is an art medium that consists of beeswax, dammar resin, and natural pigments. The technique involves melting the ingredients and then applying them to a porous surface with a brush. Each layer that is applied is fused either to the support or the previous layer by way of a heat gun or torch. The relatively simple technique does take time to prefect. My own work most times looked like a massive glob of melted wax with inconsistently-placed lumps and a hodge podge of color. Somehow, when Kim does a demo, the wax is smooth and the colored layers interact harmoniously with one another. Granted, I am new at this. Nonetheless, I am the first to admit that my shortcomings are plentiful with this technique!

I tried the encaustics on a bisque-fired pomegranate sculpture that I had made. It was an experiment of sorts as I have been trying to decide how to finish the surface of a recent ceramic sculpture. I thought I might use acrylic paint, or maybe shoe polish, but wanted to give encaustics a fair shake. As it turned out, I fell head-over-heels in love with the texture and process of encaustics. I filled up a bag with goodies from the Heartwood art supply store and returned home late last night, eager to finish the sculpture.

Grenade
2010, Shanna Wheelock
Clay, metal, acrylic, wood
35" x 45"

A detail of the sculpture

Close-up of the pomegranate

The initial sketch for the pomegranate

Five poms sculpted (extras in the case of a kiln disaster...good to be prepared!)

Initial sketch for the grenade

Planning for the grenade project began in December of 2009. I remember spending an entire day in the studio sketching and writing the proposal. I still have the paper with my hen-scratch scrawl and a list of about twenty things that I could visualize as a possible long-term project.

I am a student in what Heartwood College of Art refers to as their "Pioneer Pod". We are a small group of artists working toward our MFA in the state's first low-residency program of its kind. The program is a good fit for me. I am able to work independently in my own studio under the guidance of a mentor and an advisor. We gather once a semester for a "weekend intensive" and move along at the rate of two classes each term. Though it is an immense amount of work, I am able to schedule it around my full-time teaching job without interruption. As an arts educator, this is a perfect program as it complements what I do in the classroom perfectly.

So, I spent that winter day in December in the studio racking my brain for an idea that I would be willing to commit myself to for five month's time. I am not sure exactly how the image came to me, but I began to research grenades. As soon as I read the Wikipedia entry, I was solid in my idea.

"The French military term grenade probably comes from the shape of the pomegranate fruit, which is also called grenade in French."

Wikipedia

Much of my work in the past has emphasized symbols and objects associated with women-centered mythology. The idea that the term grenade was a direct translation intrigued me. I decided to juxtapose the two objects: The pomegranate with it's warm magenta color and ancient fertility symbolism against the drab cool color of the grenade which represents the loss of life.

I researched the grenade online as well as read a US military issued book on grenades. An inert M67 grenade was purchased and used as the model for each of the hand-sculpted objects. The process was long, often tedious, and came with lots of challenges that I did not foresee. Ultimately, I feel that I became a better artist for having to endure the many obstacles. Perhaps, this experience could be understood as my "artistic rites of passage".

My philosophy associated with the piece runs much deeper than I am stating here, but for now, I will allow the image to ruminate within each viewer, permitting interpretation.

Life is still moving at a fast clip and the past few weeks are a blur. It is a good feeling to have the final evaluation complete, as well as my two major projects. I'll plan to post pics of my second MFA creation next week , the "Transformation Tapestry".

As a side note - it was way cool to see myself and my words in glossy magazine color. If you have access to a news-stand that carries "Artscope" (termed "New England's Culture Magazine") you can find me on page 12, in the column "Roundtable", May/June 2010 issue.

Living the Artist Life: All in a day's work

One of the casts after it was removed from the Anne's belly

Anne, in her ninth month of pregnancy, plastered

Our third drawing session with Anne as our model

My drawings from today's drawing session




Living the artist life is interesting, to say the least. This past week was full of creative, and sometimes unusual, activities that non-artists probably couldn't imagine doing. I sometimes wonder, when life is moving full speed ahead and I can't catch my breath, what it would be like to be "normal". Is there such a thing? I have this fantasy that I will wake, go to work, come home, eat dinner, watch TV, and go to bed. No major projects to complete. No big list of things I need to get done that week. No 3:00 a.m. wakings where my mind won't stop buzzing with the next thing I need to design.

If I were to experience that kind of life on a regular basis, though it might decrease the blood pressure immensely, would probably catapult me into complete and utter boredom.

This past week is a great example of living the artist life. I felt completely immersed in the creative process everyday.

After I blogged last Sunday morning, I spent the day working on a tapestry, then Monday began the "official work week" where days were spent at school teaching. The high school Art 1 class learned the monotype process and we had loads of fun! Albeit, there is a huge sticky mess that I am still trying to clean five days later! My other favorite project at school this past week was the aerial paintings in the style of Maine artist Eric Hopkins. We're painting very cool images of local Lubec maps.

After school, I continued my personal work as an artist. Monday evening I rolled clay slabs then worked on my end-of-the-month (a few days late!) project update for the MFA program I am in. Tuesday evening, I began painting a new sign for my pottery business, and edited some work I had been doing for the Lubec Arts Alive portrait exhibit that opens next Wednesday.

I know, you are thinking, "this doesn't sound very exciting for an artist's life."

Well....how about this? Wednesday, I plaster-casted a pregnant woman's belly. I mean, who gets to do something like this and not sound like a completely off-the-wall weirdo? Artists can get away with this sort of bizarre behavior all in the name of art. So, arrives Anne, I have covered the floor with two plastic drop cloths, cut strips of plaster, and loaded a bucket with warm water. Anne coats herself in petroleum jelly. I say how cool it is that she will let me cast her in her eighth month of pregnancy, then she explains to me that she is actually in her ninth month and says "I feel ready, like it could happen any day now." Of course, I'm not feeling too comfortable with that statement being that I am about to wrap her in a substance that dries solid and would completely render her immobile for a period of time, not to mention, I have zero experience in delivering babies!

We made it through the session. Two casts were made, one for each of us. And, those darn drop cloths didn't make much of a bit of difference. There was plaster all through the dining room, on the hardwood floors, into the living room, around to the kitchen, and into the bathroom. Somehow, there was even plaster in the toilet.

Thursday, I joined other committee members, my husband, and filmmaker Jon Wing Lum to view, for the first time, the video documentary about Lubec Arts Alive that Wing had been working on since last summer. We gathered at Jean's house, filled our bowls with popcorn, and settled-in to watch the DVD. This event definitely deems its own blog entry, so I will save the details for another time after the public screening occurs. I'll leave it at this for now. I am so incredibly touched by the film that Wing has created. He is a master of his medium and works from a place of love. I am deeply grateful for his presence, talent, and his willingness to share.

Friday evening....here comes the mundane but necessary. I spent several hours cleaning the house that had fallen into complete disarray over the past few hectic days of "living the artist life". I discovered that plaster doesn't mop up. Not at all, especially after it has hardened on the linoleum and hardwood for two days. Hands and knees, sponge and brillo pad. It wasn't glamorous by any stretch. But, I got the job done. Along with other cleaning and plant pruning duties to prepare for today, which was the third and final drawing group with Anne as our pregnant model. It's sad to see the sessions end, but I suspect she's willing to give up her gestational model sessions to birth that little bundle of joy.

The next week is looking to be just as full as this past one, thus the blogging a day earlier than usual. I plan to rise and shine at the crack of dawn on Sunday to fire the kiln, work on the tapestry, and prep for the days ahead that involve a small business workshop, field trip to UMM's Thou Art Fair, and the opening reception for "Faces and Stories of Lubec: The Portraits of Lubec Arts Alive 2009".

I kinda like how I live. I guess I'm not ready to give it all up just yet for a life of 9 to 5 and TV dinners.

Juggling It All

Beaver Stick Story Loom, linen warp

The pile

Preparing strips for weaving

Weaving

Progress being made

Sunday morning, I thought perhaps a leisurely entrance to the day with a late sleep, but Bello decided that 5:15 a.m. was the perfect time to rouse me. I would like to think that it was his deep adoration for me that brought all sixteen feline pounds of him kneading at my goose-down covered slumbering self, but it is more likely that he was hungry and demanding a can of marinated chicken morsels. Up I rose to begin the day, which in all actuality, is not so bad. Fog is slowly lifting and despite the current grey, we are expecting sunny skies and warm temps for this Oestre Sunday. Spring is finally emerging, the daffodils are sprouting, birds are chirping.

The past week seems a blur. A lot has transpired, pulling me in a multitude of directions. I try to keep my mind focused on last week's blog entry about letting go. I feel I can say that I have let go of the outcome in some respects, but while in the process of trying to elevate myself to that higher level of understanding, I found myself hanging on tighter than ever to other situations. I am starting to wonder if it is part of my path at this point to be a warrior of sorts and fight for what I truly believe in. I did not see this battle rising, but here it is. So, despite the understanding that whatever will be will be, I need to stand up for what I feel is right, to fight the injustice, in my own semi-pacifist style!

That being said, It felt great to have a weekend a bit more mellow than the past few. I worked overtime hours this week on my current clay sculpture. I had set a goal to finish all of the "wet-work" by last Friday night. It took me until 9:00 p.m. but I got it done. It was an incredible accomplishment and freeing of my mind, allowing me to focus on the long list of "to-do's" that had been building over the past month. I had been longing for the meditative ritual of weaving, and finally yesterday, I was able to return to the tapestry that I began in January. The new "Transformation Tapestry" is well on it's way, and time wise it is at mid point to completion. I am fickle though. One minute I love it, the next discouraged and wanting to start all over. Chris reminded me, though, that I always say, at this point in a tapestry, that I don't like what I am seeing. But somehow, it all comes together and I am happy in the end. I will hang onto that thought and see where it takes me.

This time of year, skilled organization and scheduling is deemed of greatest importance. We are in the final quarter of school and that means field trips, art shows and competitions, grading, service learning projects, room-cleaning, and submission of re-written curriculum to meet new state standards. I am trying to fit in my Spanish lessons a half hour here and there. Lubec Arts Alive meetings still happen regularly and we are preparing for a public exhibit of the portraits created last summer, due to open April 14th. My MFA projects are due in less than six weeks, and I am busy with marketing and prep for the seasonal opening of my business. Toss in a few road trips to see family, adjusting to my warrior status, and the usual spring house duties, and I seem to have my hands full. Not to mention, my plan book is pretty much filled for the entire summer already!

This all being said, I realize that I best end this blog entry and get to work! The sun is peeking through the fog and should energize me for the day ahead.

Speaking Your Truth: The Journey Begins

One of the printing presses at Heartwood College of Art

Kathleen Buchanan, printmaker from Thomaston, led the printmaking workshop

Monotypes drying on the rack

My prints from the afternoon portion of the workshop

Figure

Heartwood's two mascots: Pencil and Timone



I had been eagerly awaiting my first weekend residency at Heartwood College of Art. It was a perfect day to hit the road with sunny blue skies and unseasonably warm temps. I shed my wool coat for the first time in many months, loaded the luggage, and cranked-up the radio for the seven hour drive. The past week had been particularly stressful and exhausting at work, and heading south was just what my soul needed.

When I arrived at Heartwood, I was warmly greeted by smiling faces, a gentle greyhound, confident cat, and delicious foods. As each of the seven "pioneer pod" arrived, we engaged in the usual "get to know you" chat and circle of "tell us a bit about yourself." Initially, we were a fairly similar group: All women, teachers in some capacity in our lives, and all thirsting for more....more knowledge, more art, more connections, more time. But by the end of the weekend, I looked around the room and thought how completely different each one of us is from the other. We each bring something unique to the mix, and each of us will act as a teacher for others. No, maybe not in a classroom sort of way, but in a real, deep, artistic and philosophical kind of way.

When we first meet in a group, we make judgments. We all like to pretend we don't. But we do. We think, from a person's clothing, or body language, or car they drive that we can pinpoint their beliefs, their lifestyles, or their interests. Sometimes we can get it a little right, but most times, we have a lot more to learn. Come Sunday, I had a completely different perspective and understanding of each of the women than I had on Friday evening, and I know that this is only the beginning of my getting to know and understand each one of them.

Friday night we set-up our work in-progress in the main gallery. This is always a bit stressful for artists I think, when putting your new (and in this case, incomplete) work up for others to view. Not knowing each others' comfort levels, we perhaps held back a bit. Each of the artists explained their process. It was a relief to hear that each of them, like me, had faced some unforeseen challenge. Yes, we had all been putting our work "out there" for several years, but we are now pushing ourselves to learn something new, and sometimes, learning something new can be a trying (and tiring!) process.

Saturday was a hands-on kind of day, which is my favorite! I love to get into a medium, get dirty, get focused, and experiment. We had a phenomenal instructor, printmaker Kathleen Buchanan from Thomaston. Thankfully, she was a patient teacher. We were encouraged to explore, have fun, and when it came time for critique, bless her soul, she was gentle! For many of us, this was a new medium and perhaps triggered some anxiety, but I think that we each ultimately had a grand time. It isn't often that we, especially women with super hectic lives, get to step out of normal routine and just "play".

Sunday offered up perhaps the most profound part of the weekend for me. We gathered around the huge, beautiful wooden circular table in the meeting room for a discussion of the Anne Lamott book "Bird by Bird." It wasn't exactly Oprah's book club with an in-depth conversation that analyzed every page of the script, but the book did offer a springboard for some relevant and meaningful conversation. Heartwood Dean Susan Wilder and President Berri Kramer spoke words of wisdom that made us think a bit deeper about our message in our art.

One thought that was discussed surrounded the idea of why do we create, and does anyone really care about our work as much as we do ourselves.

Yes. I am sure the answer is "Yes."

Artists feel compelled to create. That is why we are artists. It is akin to an addiction that monopolizes much of your waking time. We perhaps appear selfish when we feel the desire to spend more time in our studio than with other living, breathing beings. When we wake in the middle of the night, our minds won't rest because we are fixated on the current project or a new idea we want to see to fruition. We spend endless amounts of money on supplies and do insane things all in the name of art.

And, yes, it is important to others. Just think, what if Monet or Da Vinci had never shared their paintings? Think of the pleasure we feel when we walk into a museum and stare in awe at the great master works on the walls. Or the books we read, how they are enhanced with illustration. Or the movies we watch, each frame an artwork by a film-maker. I can go on and on with this list, and I think you would agree, we appreciate it when artists share!

On another level, it is about making a statement, leaving your print on this world, having your voice be heard. So, I know, you are thinking "who cares what I have to say?" Well, where would we be if Martin Luther King Jr. had said that same thing? Or the women who fought for the right to vote, or musicians who write lyrics that move us to tears?

With this in mind, I say it is the privilege AND the expectation that artists speak their truth. You never know when your visions will resonate with another and change a life or this world in a profound, maybe even historical way. We are documenting life, sometimes unknowingly, by connecting with our deeper selves and putting our own experiences into a tangible form to share with others.

This past weekend nine women artists began a journey together. Nine women artists are finding their voices....

Speaking their truth.

On Being a Student Again: Lessons Learned

"Transformation Tapestry" in progress on the beaver-stick story loom

A component of the "Alphabet Project"





It's an interesting experience, to be a student again. I haven't stepped foot in a formal classroom (other than my own) in over thirteen years since I was studying for teacher certification at USM.

I am now a first semester student enrolled in the MFA program at Heartwood College of Art, balancing my studies with full-time teaching, community organizing, family, and business. The part-time low residency program is perfect for me in that I am able to continue my regular teaching job while doing the bulk of my studies in my own studio space. The twelve-hour-a-week studio commitment seemed peanuts compared to the usual pace I keep. However, I soon learned that in order to meet the deadlines I needed to devote much more than twelve hours a week.

Like my older high school students, when given the first assignment, I immediately grumbled. Whiny me, thinking, "why can't I just do what I want to do?" Eventually, I came around to a project idea that piqued my excitement. Would I have come up with this particular idea had I not been instructed to follow certain parameters? How literal do I need to be in the interpretation?

The Heartwood program is set-up as two "classes" per semester. This inaugural semester we were asked to write two project proposals. One proposal was for something called the "Alphabet Project" which involves studying and rendering an object twenty six times.

Let me repeat this number in case it didn't register. Twenty-six (26).

I wanted to study fine arts so that I could focus on one-of-a-kind unique sculptures that would draw my attention away from the production pottery I had been doing the past few years. Isn't this, sort of, production work?

Eventually, after hours of sketching, researching, and thinking, I found an object that I could create twenty-six times while making each one a smaller component of a greater whole.

I began the actual sculpting the third week of January. Again, like my students, I hit a few rough spots. I had an idea I liked, but I didn't foresee some of the technical problems that I would have. In my mind's eye, and on paper, It all looked smooth-sailing. I have been working with clay for over twenty years and what could be so difficult in sculpting this little object a few times over?

Boy was I wrong. I came up against challenges like never before. It all appeared so simple at first, and by this point, I sure was wishing I could change my project. "Ah teacher...can I throw this one out and start all over again? Please?"

Since I usually say no to my own students, this just wasn't an option for me. So, forward I progressed.

Yesterday was a critical moment in the creation of this series. I had spent many hours working my ideas out on paper and in my mind for this particular component. I was a bit anxious, not knowing if I could make it happen. It took a few hours and two solid attempts, but I got the prototype created and am pleased with the result. Finally, I feel like my mind can rest a bit and I can let my hands do the work.

This will, however, be just a short respite from the heavy cerebral stuff. My mind will be buzzing overtime soon enough as I begin to plan for the next phase of the project.

It is good for me to be a student again. It encourages me to think a bit deeper than normal about what I am sculpting, to analyze my process, and to articulate my ideas in a way that others will understand. I am gaining new empathy for my own students, and showing them that the process can be difficult for even a somewhat honed artist, but the rewards are great. My students are able to see the passion that drives me as an artist and a teacher, and it is that passion that in turn inspires my students.

I am learning lessons as I go. Some lessons are repeat lessons, lessons that I thought I had learned but never really fully embraced. Perhaps this is sort of like a distinction between "book knowledge" and "hands-on experience". And, sometimes, you just have to brush-up once in a while, lest you forget.

Lessons Learned:

1. Artists are given a problem to solve and if left to their own, will come up with a creative solution. It may not fit the literal interpretation of the "rules" exactly, but artists like to add their own spin to things...and more importantly, are expected to.

2. Things don't always go as planned. You can plan on it!

3. Perfectionism is a myth, and if you always strive for it, you will be discouraged many-a-time.

4. Process is equal to, or greater than, the final product. It's all about the journey.

I end this week's blog with a quote from the book Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. Though primarily about the experience of being a writer, I felt that this analogy related quite well to the work of visual artists. It has helped me to put my sometimes harrowing first semester MFA project experience into perspective.

"Writing a novel is like driving a car at night, you can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way."