Digital Coolness

For anyone who is would like to learn Photoshop, but is apprehensive about it, here’s some inspiration. Five years ago, at the age 87, fashion photographer Lillian Bassman decided to tackle the program. She spends six or seven hours a day playing in Photoshop and says it has opened up a whole new world for her.
The interesting thing is that Bassman is a Photoshop girl only—no Google or email for her. To see some of her work and to read more about her life, check out this article in the New York Times. Now here’s something else that's cool. Did you know that you can paint using your iPhone? Apparently you download this program called Brushes, a low-priced software application that has a color picker, zooming, virtually unlimited undo and redo, and a set of realistic brushes. You can also export your paintings at high resolution (up to 1920 x 2880), and turn them into QuickTime movies. See the video below.

Art Journals & Creative Healing

I buy most of my books online because there are no bookstores in my neighborhood. And of course it doesn’t hurt that Amazon and Chapters have lower prices, which means you end up getting more books in the long run. The problem is you don’t always get the chance to look at the books you want first.
Take Art Journals & Creative Healing by Susan Soneff for example. The main reason I bought it was to finish off the amount on a gift card. Once the book arrived, I took a quick look at it and then set it aside.
Why? Because it looked like heavy-duty stuff to me and I’m usually in the mood for eye candy. As someone who has struggled with depression off and on for most of her adult life, I like to avoid the negative and just peace out. But for months now, Soneff’s book has been sitting around waiting for me to notice it, so I finally took a deep breath and plunged in.
Just as I suspected, there were plenty of soul-wrenching moments inside. Women with everything from anorexia and cancer, to depression and MS share their personal stories and journal entries. While there are visually moving pages here, and plenty of creative tips, the main emphasis is on being brave enough to chronicle your journey through words and images.
Even though journaling is used in clinical and therapeutic settings, and research supports the benefits, I have to admit I’m skeptical. I say this because writing in my journal allows me to vent, but I can’t say it helps me; it simply seems to be something I’m in the habit of doing.
However, it occurred to me while I was working through Soneff’s book that I’m in a rut. Like a hamster on her wheel, I do what I do and forget to focus on choices or different perspectives. In short, I don’t go that deeply into things when I journal, although it may seem like it when I’m upset.
I’ve thought quite a bit about this book since I finished it last week. In the next couple of days, I’ll be finishing off my current journal and I’ve decided that I need to take a different approach. I’m not sure what this will be, but I think it’s time to be more honest with myself, so I’ll let you know what happens.

The Volleying Continues

Jeanne and I have been volleying in Photoshop for a couple of years now. We take turns altering a photo until we’ve reached the magic number ten, and then we start all over again.
We’ve been more off than on for months now mainly because life has been complicated for both of us. Even so, one of us always manages to pick up the ball and volley back at some point. I’m feeling pleased with myself that I managed to finish volley six of this round yesterday …only four more to go!
(I posted one and two of this round back at the end of February if you want to check them out. At this rate we should be finished by Christmas).

Elusivity

Have you ever noticed that when an image rivets your attention, trying to express that feeling seems to elude you?
Take this doll for instance. Mary gave he/she/it to me last year and I find it weirdly captivating. I don’t know whether it’s the way the doll feels, its markings or even the hole in its head. Whatever is going on, I can’t make sense of it. I just know I’m hooked, and for months now, I’ve been moving the doll from assemblage to assemblage where it's always restless, and never quite at home.
I wondered what would happen if I took some pictures and then played with them in Photoshop. Well, no luck there either. I kept wishing that I had the Lennie gene and could at least have started the process with a decent photo.
But looking at the results now, I think the best approach would be to wrap the doll in some kind of fabric and just pretend something real was actually going on inside.

Rejuvenating Old Photos

One of the satisfying things about working in Photoshop is being able to give an old photo new life, or in some cases to repair the damage done by time and careless handling. My guess is that this picture of my Uncle Ken was taken in the early thirties, and the photographer hand-tinted the bird on his sweater and the grass in the background (which was probably green to begin with). After I’d scanned the photo and got it on-screen in Photoshop, I could see this “painting” was crudely done, but I decided not to alter the color, just brighten it up.
You will get some idea of the original state of Uncle Ken’s photo if you compare it to the one taken of my father at the same time (see below left). Restoring Dad’s childhood picture is probably the most difficult task I’ve attempted in Photoshop. The vertical creases through his face were really challenging to repair. I actually thought re-working the eye area would be the hardest, but it turned out to be the chin. Go figure.
The interesting thing about photo retouching is that each picture presents its own set of visual problems that need to be solved. While the tools to do this are available in Photoshop—I use the Clone Stamp and Spot Healing Brush tools the most—in the end it’s more about the moment-to-moment creative decisions you make than anything else.

Journaling and Memory

I rarely re-read entries I’ve made in my journal because I’ve found I don’t like what I’ve written—or more accurately, I don’t like to be reminded of the mood I was in at the time. I know some people use their journal to celebrate, but I tend to write in mine when I want to ponder the meaning of life, or to whine.
On the other hand, I don’t mind revisiting the art I’ve done—even if I don’t like it. My collages and drawings have their own kind of memory that has nothing to do with how I’m feeling about the events of my life at the time. In this journal I used dollar store paints for my backgrounds. It’s not the kind of paint I’d use on canvas because it’s too thin and has a chalky texture when it dries. But I’ve found it works just fine on the paper in a Moleskine sketchbook.
I like the two green pages below mainly because of the stamped dress. Anything paper-dollish appeals to me for some reason …maybe because I got so much pleasure from playing with paper dolls as a child.

What I remember about the red pages at the beginning of this post is how annoyed I was by the way they turned out. It was the first time I’d used a Copic marker and I really disliked how thickly I drew the lines around the map shapes. Normally I would have just obliterated what I’d done and started again. However, there’s something about being almost at the end of a journal that makes you anxious to finish it, so I let them be.

I think I was feeling much the same way when I did these last two pages of the journal. When in doubt, Stick in a Parrot is my motto. Well, not really. But what a parrot represents to me is Joseph Cornell (with maybe a splash of Monty Python?) In any case, if you have an image that appeals to you, just pop it in when you feel stuck. It may not do anything to improve what you’re working on, but at least you’ll feel good using it.

Weekend Play Spaces

I thought I’d show you some of the pictures I took yesterday when I was at my friend Bev’s for an art day. Six of us got together to play with alcohol inks on bamboo tiles, dominos and clear plastic—and later on, pouring UTEE into molds.
A few months ago Mary taught me how to make molds. I was really pleased with how they turned out at the time, and took them along to our playday. By the time we got to that point, though, my camera had run out of juice.
Because I’d posted photos earlier in the week of different art tables, I really noticed how people worked yesterday. Some were messy, some were neat, and still others (like me) seemed to swing wildly from one end of the spectrum to the other.
What I tend to do is to get messier and messier until I reach the point where I only have a postage stamp-sized space to work in. Then I regroup and start all over again in pristine surroundings. It’s obvious to me that 50 per cent of the time I spend creating involves tidying and sorting, 30 per cent involves trying to make decisions and the rest of the time I’m hands on.
(I really don’t like to think about how productive I’d be if I was (A) Neat (B) Decisive).

More Art Tables...

It just occurred to me now that I have other photos of art tables to share with you. To the right is Carin Brahm leaning on the stamping table that she shares with her cat Sammy. Below is a shot I took of Carmi's studio a couple of years ago. I know she has reorganized recently ...you can read about it on her blog, but this photo will give you some idea of how industrious and inspired she always is.

Art tables

I wish someone would do a book on artist tabletops. Not only would each one be different, but I’m sure they’d also be inspiring—or at least satisfy some of that insatiable curiosity we have about other artists and their stuff.
I took this photo of Mary’s art table (see above) when I was up at her boat last summer. I love how she always has tons of stuff going, and yet it all ends up working together.

I got this shot of Anita and Brenda’s journals at Artfest. Brenda was working on a double-page spread of her experience in Susan Wooldridge’s poetry class, and I remember wishing I could draw as well as she does.

Jeanne sent me this picture of some of her pottery finds when she went mudlarking recently on the banks of the Thames. Dictionary.com defines mudlarking as: Chiefly British: a person who gains a livelihood by searching for iron, coal, old ropes, etc., in mud or low tide. I used to call it “rooting around the beach hoping to find cool stuff,” but mudlarking sounds much more romantic to me. (You can read more about this on the Icons: a portrait of England website).

And finally, here’s a photo of my own art table, which John took last week. The mixed media piece I’m working on isn’t finished yet, but it’s definitely progressing. Just looking at the photo reminds me of that when I’m tempted to think nothing has “happened.”

The Soul of a Flower

It’s always a good day when you feel you’ve accomplished something creatively. What I find difficult, though, is working away for hours but having little to show for it—at least in a tangible sense. That’s certainly been the case with today, but I don’t feel disappointed. I think I’m finally beginning to understand that there has to be an in-working before there’s an out-working. And furthermore, the process keeps reinventing itself in different ways.
While I was playing in Photoshop tonight with these photos John took this afternoon, I started thinking about how I amazed I am when our flowers actually bloom every spring. For maybe 51 weeks of the year they’re getting ready for this. Then they do their thing, peak and start all over again. The funny thing is, the same plant seems to produce blooms with a different personality each year. Like this pink poppy for instance. This year you can see the carpals and stamens through the petals, and the effect is like looking at a tiny soul cradled inside each bloom. I can see now why people become addicted to painting flowers and I know I could stay up all night doing this. (If you’re working in Photoshop, I would recommend experimenting with the Dry Brush, Palette Knife, Paint Daubs and Water Paper filters).

Empty or Spacious?

I spent some time looking through my journal tonight because I felt too lazy to do anything creative. I’d never realized it before, but some of my pages look kind of empty …as if they wanted me to add something to them and I’d forgotten to.

On the other hand, why should I add something just for the sake of adding something? In the parrot spread above, the pink flower is a transfer done on Japanese paper that Mary showed me how to do back in February. After I glued it down, I kept adding things until it looked done and then I stopped.

Is the right hand page on this lilac spread empty or spacious? Hmmm. I keep changing my mind about this. I have a feeling I won’t be adding anything to it though. Some things are just better left as a question mark.

Saturday Night

Tonight I talked on the phone to my sister Pam about romance novels, created this ATC in Photoshop, and then played several intense games of Tetris to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the game’s invention.
I’ve been a Tetris fanatic for about fifteen years now, and it’s the greatest time waster ever. I usually play on my vintage Game Boy, but since the batteries are drained, I had to go online instead.
Tetris is the only game I play and I’m addicted to it. I’ve always felt guilty about this and a little embarrassed too. Tetris is the kind of game you associate with nerdy teenage boys and the movie Hackers. My family thinks my Tetris habit is hilarious, but the weird thing is that with all the practice I’ve had playing it over the years, I’ve actually become really good at it.
Aside from wasting time in an absorbing manner, is there any purpose to playing Tetris? I didn’t think so until I read an article about an Oxford University experiment which found that Tetris reduces post-traumatic stress syndrome.
I’ve gone off track here because what I meant to write about is: How come it’s Saturday night and everyone I know is either on the computer or watching TV? In other words: what ever happened to date night?
Not that I’m complaining. Back in the 70s I received the Antisocial Person of the Year Award from my group of friends. As my boyfriend at the time explained it: “Susan’s idea of a really good time is reading a book.”
I never felt like I had to be out socializing just because I was supposed to …although I do remember going to the movies one Saturday night on my own, and then running into the guy I was dating with another girl. I made a point of going over and saying “hi” to them just to see the look on his face.
In retrospect, it must have been this traumatic event which eventually led me to Game Boy, and the healing power of Tetris on a Saturday night.

Photoshop Magic

The New York Times ran an article a week ago called Smile and Say ‘No Photoshop.’ It basically focuses on how magazines have gone overboard with digital enhancement. Thanks to the Photoshop wizards who work their magic on models that are already gorgeous, pimples can be removed, teeth whitened and hips whittled.
But Kate Winslet wasn’t happy with the result when she posed for British GQ a few years back. She complained the cover photo didn’t look like her because her legs had been Photoshop-ed to look longer and skinnier.
In a recent issue of French Elle, Sophie Marceau appears on the front cover without make up or any digital tinkering. She looks fabulous of course, although it seems sad to me the magazine has to tell us that nothing has been done. Should we consider everything is inauthentic unless we’re told otherwise? And where do you draw the line?
I gave Emma’s boyfriend Bryan this picture of them for his birthday, and I must say Photoshop came in very handy here. I combined three different photographs to come up with a composite that worked. But I didn’t remove any blemishes or whiten any teeth. I try and avoid doing this for the most part, even though I’d be tempted to fix myself up if I was working on a picture with me in it.

Art and the economy

My father told me a couple of weeks ago that he has no plans to cut back on his spending because he thinks spending is good for the economy. I’ve wondered about his words off and on ever since because practically everyone else I know has cut back.
When people tighten their belts, artists, writers, musicians, dancers and so on feel the pinch first. In a way it’s understandable because we tend to think of engaging in creative pursuits or buying their “products” as a luxury. But this makes life challenging if you’re a member of the clan.
At the moment I’m attempting to stockpile art for my show in the fall, so I haven’t been trying to sell anything. But I must admit I’m worried about what the economy will be like in October, and whether or not people will buy anything then.
One thing I can definitely say is that I am getting fewer writing projects from mainstream publications now. The number of magazines is declining, and those still publishing are opting for shorter articles. When you get paid by the word as I usually do, this is discouraging. Some magazines haven’t changed their rate for a decade, and others have even lowered it. There are also publishers who use what’s happening in the economy as an excuse to take advantage of freelancers.
Recently I received an email about writing a 500-word technical article that would have paid me $10. No, this isn’t a misprint. The editor’s thinking was that I could re-sell my writing. While I have done this in the past, it can take months of networking to find a new market, and editors naturally don’t want to pay you what you received for the original article.
When you’re dependent on freelance work and selling art for your financial survival like I am, it’s easy to feel fearful. But you have to work at overcoming this because it’s crucial to cultivate resilience. I decided yesterday that what I needed was an image to look at while I worked …an image that would remind me to stay positive and to be proactive—instead of focusing on the negative, as I’m prone to do.
I immediately thought of the angel wing I’d bought from Colette Copeland back in February and I put it right in front of my computer. Every time I looked at Colette’s creation today, I smiled. Engaging in this activity makes me feel much better than reading yet another depressing report about the state of the economy (and then dwelling on it).
Who says art is a luxury? In my opinion, I believe it’s a necessity.

Georgia O'Keeffe

If I had to pick a favorite flower, it would probably be the iris because it reminds me of Georgia O'Keeffe. She painted dozens of flowers from the iris to the poppy and lily, and what I love about her images is that she usually zoomed right into the most interesting part of the flower. In her own words: “I often painted fragments of things because it seemed to make my statement as well as or better than the whole could.”
I saw a documentary on O'Keeffe once and the most interesting part was the tour inside her studio. Before she began a new piece, all her brushes were chosen and her paints mixed in advance. I guess she must have taken Gustave Flaubert’s advice to heart. “Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work.”

What It Is

It’s been over a week since I posted here, which is probably the longest I’ve gone since I started blogging. To be honest, I’ve been in a creative rut for a while now, so it’s been hard to stay positive. When the way you’ve been doing things isn’t working, you can’t keep doing them and hope things will change anyway.
I hate feeling like this, but on the whole it’s proving to be a good thing. Sometimes you have to reach the bottom of the trough before you can become more buoyant and start making sense of it all.
In What It Is, cartoonist Lynda Barry writes about pursuing good drawing for 30 years and how all the joy went out of it for her. She finally realized that when she drew she was being held hostage by two questions: Is this good? And ... Does this suck?
A light bulb went off in my head when I read her words because I could see I’ve been doing the same thing myself and it’s been holding me back. (Does anyone ever get a positive answer to either of those questions, I wonder?)
Barry believes that focusing on images is an ideal way to break the mesmerism. Or as she describes it: “We’re not having the experience in order to make an image; we’re making an image in order to have an experience.” She doesn’t present you with recipes for making finished stuff though. Through provocative collages, illustrations, insights and exercises, What It Is encourages you to liberate your creativity by making it your own.
In my opinion, this is a must-have book for any artist or writer, whether you’re feeling blocked or need a push to go more deeply into your craft.

The Museum of Bad Art

I kind of like these two dog paintings—particularly the one on the right. They’re part of the permanent collection of MOBA (the Museum of Bad Art), which is located online and in the basement of two Boston-area movie theatres. All you have to do is buy a ticket to Slumdog Millionaire or Star Trek and you gain free entry to the latest exhibits.
Looking at all the paintings in MOBA’s online galleries, I couldn’t help wondering what the difference is between "outsider" and so-called "bad" art. Maybe Outsider Art is bad art that sells? In any case, my opinion is that art is art whatever the level of skill and number of sales.
To see a Canadian painting that’s part Of MOBA’s permanent collection, check out this article in today’s Toronto Star.

Happy Birthday Mum!

This is the memory box I decorated to hold all the cards, letters and photos my mother received today at her birthday party. Believe it or not, Mum just turned 90 and she is still driving, throwing dinner parties, playing bridge, going to the opera and her book club plus volunteering one day a week in the gift shop at her local hospital. I could go on and on, but I’m sure you get the picture: she’s amazing. She does more at her age than I do at mine, and she does it with such style. I’ve decided that I want to be just like her when I finally grow up.

To Twitter or not to Twitter?

Remember when posting to your favorite Yahoo group was a big deal? Nowadays it’s hard to keep up with all the ways you’re supposed to communicate (and participate) online. It’s almost like having a full time job.
I have to admit I’m fascinated by people who Twitter and Tweet though. I mean, how do they remember to do it? And is anyone really interested?
It seems like they are. I read a newspaper article recently about Twitter, and the writer mentioned that his first post was: “Just ate half a sandwich.” Within a few moments over 50 people had tweeted back to say: “That’s great!”
I thought this was absolutely hilarious. I guess you can’t say much when you’re limited to 140 characters, but somehow I thought the whole process would be more haiku-like. For example:
Should I feed the dog?
No. I’m going to take a nap.
Oh, oh. Too late.
She read my mind.
However, I don’t think I’ll be setting up a Twitter account anytime soon. In my opinion, I do way too much thinking and obsessing about myself anyway, and it probably isn’t fair to drive my friends crazy with it too.

Back from Boston

I’ve been to Boston several times in the last ten years, and one of the things I love about the city is its architecture, especially the Victorian brownstones in the Back Bay area, and all the amazing churches like Trinity, Old South and The First Church of Christ, Scientist.
But I was tempted to title this post: Don’t Fly Delta because of the experience I had coming back. Have you ever heard of an airline moving your flight forward not once or twice but three times, and then notifying you by phone after you’d actually arrived at your destination? If my friend Jackie hadn’t warned me how unreliable Delta could be, I would never have checked.
Once I arrived at JFK in New York, I had to wait for eight and a half hours for my flight to Toronto. In addition to several delays, there was a security breach (Delta’s fault), which involved all of us being removed from the plane, and subjected to yet another security check including a full body pat down. When we were finally taken back to the plane, two people headed for Washington were put on our flight by mistake. Delta’s solution to all this? A mini bag of peanuts for everyone who had been “inconvenienced.” Next time I’m going Air Canada.