Saturday, September 20th, 2003

Time is supposed to slow down as you get older, isn't it? Summers used to last forever...sigh...enough of that! no time to sigh.
Just back from the Great Colorado Adventure...oh, it wasn't such a big deal, most art festival artists undertake such adventures on a monthly basis, but it was my first back-to-back art festival adventure, gosh darn it, and I'm writing about it. Both festivals were extremely successful and I have no disasters to report, other than my continued loving of the dry dry dry desert climate. Rain welcomed us during both festivals, the first in buffeting spurts, the second in a not-so-gentle continuous shower that left most artists discouraged and without sales. Me? I had my brand new super clear vinyl walls that allowed the few remaining brave souls to see my art through the wall and sneak into my booth for a better (and dry) look. All in all, I lost one big matted piece, but it's already been changed and the walls have dried and all I can remember about the whole twelve-day excursion is the delicious time spent traveling and a strange reassurance that tells me I'm doing what I should be doing...for now.

I actually rested this time, before, during and after the festivals. All started during the drive up, by now everyone listening should know I love driving, something about the road washing troubles away. I was somehow expecting a more boring drive as I took the safety of the interstate all the way to Colorado. I remember it more boring, less varied...there were those dreadful spots where a martian movie could be easily filmed against the strange rocky desolation. But! there wasn't much of that, most of the time I "felt" the altitude increase, the cool weather outside, the crisp air of the mountains. I won't get extremely boring with ooohhh ahhhhh landscape descriptions, will just briefly say that going up the rockies, dancing along river canyons and climbing to 11 thousand feet from the desert fills your every sense and gives you a sample (delicious and tempting as one of those apetizer samples at your nearest Chinese restaurant) of nature and "place" that makes you want to live in every little town passed by.

One of the prevailing sights this time worth mentioning were rainbows. Those magical tricks of light seemed to be everywhere. First rainbow drew a colorful arch over a lake near my temporary home, the lake darkened by the clouds above, steam rising from the early morning glass surface. It was as if the landscape was still sleepy and in black and white and the rainbow was drawn over it with a colorful loaded and careless brush.

Next rainbow was a double! Friday had rained off and on at the festival and upon returning some snow started falling, which only seems unusual to those of us having left 105 F degree temperatures just two days back. Sky dark and threatening, sun setting over my shoulder...the lake again, dark and glassy, its deep green shores speckled with snow and suddenly, the twin rainbows appeared. Several motorists pulled over to take photos...for some reason I just kept driving, swallowing the scene with my eyes, etching it deep into my brain so that I could remember it forever. Almost too beautiful to photograph.

After that, there were rainbows in the pink glow of the first day's hour, rainbows in between gentle showers, rainbows in the mountains over the quiet empty campground where I rested between festivals. Morning in the campground brought deer and mist and rainbows, later while hiking I was cleansed by a gentle forest mist and given rainbows to guard my smile, in the quiet and blissful early evenings there were rainbows in the distance, just barely touching the tip of the highest mountains.

Last day of the last festival it rained solid through until about 3 pm, which left little precious time for selling to the few customers that braved the showers. This type of day doesn't exactly put most artists in a great mood, but I pointed out to a photographer down the row that we'd get a double rainbow before the day was over. Barely acknowledging my cheery disposition, later I "caught" him during tear-down, camera on tripod, capturing the beautiful double rainbows that framed the rocky mountain tops. "Leave it to Maria to put me in a good mood on a day like this," he said chuckling. "Wasn't me," I smiled, "it's those darned rainbows."

I don't really know what the point of all those rainbows was, but I sure enjoyed this ride.

Friday, August 15th 2003

Mid August in the Southwest, supposed to be the first "cool" day of the year and, surprisingly enough, it usually is. My father likes to complain about the heat and always says to me: "August 15th it will cool off", as if the weather systems keep a date calendar. But it is cooler today, and it's about time. Funny.

Tough lesson learned this year: I'm an incorrigible loner. Can't seem to play well with others...seems like some nun in Catholic school told me that a long time ago. I really thought I could but keep turning to the delicious solitude of my studio, my images, the silence of creating from the quiet mind...so the collaboration experiments come to an end. Well, except for the hand-made paper thing, which will probably go on ad infinitum because here the artists are working each on their own. I do admire people who can work in groups or in pairs and come up with great images and stick together for a fruitful and productive art life. But, a bit sadly, the buddy thing is not for me.

Yet with all that yearning for and enjoying solitude, I also continue to fight the "unsocial" side of me and keep trying to be a friendly ol' gal. Works out okay, I think, except some times I can really screw things up with friends and groups of people I associate with. That's the downside. The tendency is also hard on friendships, because even the most understanding friendships need occasional watering and I just don't have anything close to a "friendship green-thumb." But few and hardy friends remain through the years that understand all this about folks like me.

So what's the upside? I had a good insight into this on my way back from Prescott, Arizona, a little town with high cultural aspirations that put on a very nice festival; despite poor attendance and poor sales, I left with a warm fuzzy feeling inside. Barely made expenses but had an easy show and, after almost two months of being holed up in the studio, got back into the swing of things (traveling festival things, that is). Felt good to drive too, I needed the "dreaming" time, the cleansing feeling of road going by, the freedom of coming and going at will, stopping on a whim to take a photo or two or just stretch the legs.
Saw a spectacular sunset and some vertical rainbows on the way down from the mountain, just seven color stripes coming straight down over the desert in twilight from these dark clouds above. There were those scattered distant storms too, you can see where it's raining, it looked like a different planet. Deer and antelope were out prancing around all the way through I-40, never seen so many out, must have been the cool rainy weather.
But back to the upside and aside from vertical rainbows, seeking solitude brings an incredible feeling of self-assurance, almost bordering on invincible power. Sometimes a sad feeling because not needing much from anyone is a mixed bag, but nevertheless...self-assuring, giving of confidence, that elusive feeling that allows us to do more, seek more, try new paths, find the less traveled road, undertake great adventures...speaking metaphorically. So happens that the solitude thing is rather addictive, and perhaps a bit dangerous unless we root ourselves firmly in the world's reality, otherwise...well, we become hermits or crazy artists. Like everything, moderate doses are best for full enjoyment and avoidance of ill effects.

Go on, take a long drive...then make some art about it.

Thursday, April 3rd 2003

Now I'm back from yet another good festival and life is good. Even better, this year I'm into working with other artists--well, not many other artists, two mainly and a poet. It seems difficult for me to work with others, corporate life taught me I'm not a very good team player and tend to either take over things or not do them at all. Most of my life, I've chosen the latter.

But this year "woke up" different and I found myself suddenly working with other people, perhaps despite myself. First, the poet (I haven't asked these nice folk for permission to use their names, so I will hold back on that). I met her--no, not true, she found me at an art festival. I listened as she spoke telling me that her poetry and my art matched perfectly and how she could see her poems in my works. I was skeptical, of course, and chalked it off to another one of those wonderful uplifting people that come into my booth, make me feel good, then gone forever. Works out okay.
But she called later and told me she wanted to meet. Despite my innate fear of meetings, I accepted and, to make a long story short, after a few more meetings, a panic attack on my part, and a very patient and persistent back and forth conversation, we came up with a book of illustrated poems. Some new works, some old works on both our parts...really a perfect match. The book is in publishing at the moment and should be out soon.

Collaboration number two came from my own frustration with the hand-made papers that are available "out there." My woodcuts have evolved back to the classic black ink on paper look. But I enjoy the feeling and personality of the hand-made paper. I wanted to make my own, match it to my works, make the paper more a part of my finished prints. Impossible in terms of time, I thought, so on impulse I wrote a little post on a papermaking internet list. Got two responses and instantly liked one of them.
This wonderful lady and I clicked instantly and soon we were designing papers for my woodcuts over the email. I've never actually met her in person but it doesn't seem to matter much; we like each other, kid around a lot and her papers are perfect and make my woodcuts stand out and shine--well, at least that's what I think!

And so we are down to collaboration number three, saved the best for last. In doing art festivals you tend to make a lot of "show friends," which means that you see and get to know a lot of people on the surface but not really. Here today and gone tomorrow, perhaps see them again in a year, perhaps never. So we make the best of that. Anyhow, one of these "show friends" and I kept talking and somehow finding each other doing the same shows. He cuts and engraves and otherwise punishes sandstone slabs and makes exciting and wonderful designs in the spirit of petroglyphs and pictographs of ancient Americans. Some of his cut stones, we thought, would make great prints--but how?
Not wanting to comit much, I gave him a book on relief printing once and he promptly returned it and showed me a print he had done. In that little silly print, I saw some possibilities of what could be. I researched stone printing and found some old Chinese method; I asked in another internet group and nobody could provide me the answers to the questions that started to fill my head: how could you make the stones speak to the paper? Would it work? Could I capture the relief and texture and "feel" of the stone on paper?
And so it was destiny that I would call him, borrow some stones and attempt some stone printing. The result was a warm friendship and an ongoing collaboration, I'm hoping a long one on both counts. I take some cut stones and do the best I can to make some prints that resemble the original, seems simple enough. This simple and true stone artist took me out to see some slab cut by some ancient guy and seeing the real thing up close in its original setting helped me with the next batch. Hopefully I will make good prints and maybe even some great ones some time. I'm very excited about them.

Anyhow, I'm having a blast and really wasn't all that tough letting go of my cherished solutide to play with others every once in a while. Maybe it was an inevitable evolution for a part of my art life. Only time will tell.

Monday, March 18th 2003

Here's the story of the awesome festival in Scottsdale.

All started on a very high note, the Scottsdale Art Festival has been touted as one of the best 50 festivals in the US, rated by artists which usually means promoters treat you well and you sell a lot. 1200 applications and 160 spaces, I considered myself lucky to get in. Easy set-up, a 10 x 20 foot booth which allows me to show off my larger pieces, my gallery is up and running and I'm psyched!

Friday I sell two pieces before the show opens, we were set up in the City Hall grounds and a city employee wanted to snatch stuff before it was gone. In fact, the entire Friday had that "feel", people coming in and just grabbing stuff because they knew it would be gone by Sunday. Wow, I'm in a dream, right?
Saturday is a repeat of Friday, with added clouds off and on but no wind and no nasty stuff. Just lots of people that grab stuff off my walls and don't hackle about the price. Blocks were popular items once more.

Saturday night I glance at the weather report and it continues to say rain on Sunday. We say that a lot in the Southwest, mostly wishful thinking.
Sunday arrives early, I was too nervous to sleep so awoke around 4:00 AM and it indeed is raining, an annoying sprinkle that is sure to keep all but the most hardy shoppers at home. Took a walk, had breakfast, watched all the artists show up slowly and gripe at the weather. No matter, I'm happy...well on my way to making the most ever at any show (including in my dreams) when--MOTHER OF ALL CLOUDS shows up... It looked like the mother ship was coming to get us all, a black mountain of clouds dancing across the sky, and I do mean black, none of this fluffy white clouds, bearing down on us at about 12 knots...I said my prayers, hoped my will was in order, stress level climbed to light cherry--somehow survived to tell all.

The rest of the day is still a bit blurry, dream quickly turning into a nightmare, lending a new meaning to the word "miserable":

1:00 PM
Buckets of rain coming down on us, 200 artists and food vendors scrambling to cover up thousands of dollars worth of artworks, everyone cursing aloud, all my "be-backs" be-gone-home to safety (those are the people that say they'll be back and often do). Many artists closed their tents tightly and crawled inside. Everyone's tent started leaking due to the sheer volume of water falling. Two tents collapsed under the weight of the water.

2:30 PM
Word comes from above (the promoter, I mean, God is obviously tending to more important things) that we can officially go home (oh really?). More buckets continue to fall from the sky, mother cloud has now turned into an entire fleet of monstrous black things with thunder and lightning to boot. I'm soaked, there is no dry place to put anything, wind picks up so rain comes into my booth, out of towels, stress level turns magenta...somehow everything gets packed up under the tent. Vehicles are everywhere among the half torn down tents and you could hardly get a bicycle through. Ignoring this spatial reality, I went to get my truck/trailer only to find out that the overzealous rent-a-guard would not let me back into the grounds because I'm pulling a trailer and there are too many vehicles on the grounds already. I just kept inching forward toward him saying, I can make it just fine, I have to get my artwork in the trailer before it gets ruined...he finally had to get his scrawny ass and his puny porta-barrier out of my way or be mowed over by the angry Spaniard. Artists looked at me a bit weird as I crawled confidently (yea right) snaking truck and trailer within centimeters of their prized possessions. I just kept smiling...maybe I was gritting my teeth.

3:30 PM
Stress level now to deep purple as I, soaking wet, packed everything, soaking wet, tightly into the trailer so that it would get home and still be conveniently soaking wet. Fortunately many big works were gone with new owners on Friday and Saturday so I was able to mentally focus on that fact and get the stress-color-code down to a pleasantly refreshing lavender.

4:30ish
Got to the motel and decided to get out of Dodge while the adrenaline was a-flowin'. Somehow got refund for entire last day, must have been my pleasant disposition and friendly manner. Made coffee so strong I had to chew it and my eyeballs popped out every time I took a sip, but the chewing kept me awake all the way home. It is only a 5 hour drive, I kept telling myself as I peeked over the horizon and contemplated more strange black things in the sky.

6:30 PM
Getting dark. Just past Wickenburg (nowhere, Arizona) there is another mother-ship-cloud, this one looks like a black band of velvet covering the entire sky; the road is so dark under it that I'm sure I've taken a wrong turn somewhere and reached the edge of the world. I'm heading straight into this curtain of nothingness and I say my prayers again, this time in Latin. I crank the SUV in 4-wheel drive and think seriously about my sanity, wondering how, if I were to somehow survive, I would get along in an asylum; probably would have to carve styro-foam with my fingernails since they surely wouldn't let me have cherry and woodcut tools. I'm pretty sure I'm awake and this is actually happening.
Just then lightning cracked about as loud as I've ever heard it, and struck all around us ("us" as in me and the chickenshit cars that snuck behind my trailer hoping I would brave the storm first). Immediately after my heart got back into my chest, a sheet of water came down on my windshield like I was in a carwash. Visibility = zero meters, I can't even see my hood.
Peachy.
I stopped right there in mid-road, needless to say, and hoped my air bag would save my nose and neck when I got inevitably rear-ended by some eighteen-wheeler. There was nothing else to do, there was just water falling in a continuous sheet and completely blinding front and back.
Nothing happened, we all just sat there until we could see again...and just then we found we were smack in the middle of a flash flood starting to move the desert across the road. Rocks and brush going by across my path in a raging stream of mud, very visibly inching up in height and volume with every second gone by. I look in my rear view mirror and see that the muddy mess is behind me too engulfing me in the middle. Excellent. At least I could see now, so I cranked the faithful steed in 4-lo and it dug in with all fours and bumpity-slosh-thump-tump I was out of the mud slashing river in another 30 seconds, all four tires still on the axels, trailer still faithfully hooked behind. I don't know what happened to the cowards behind me, they probably ended up in the gulf of Mexico.
A strange calm came upon me now as I realized I'm still alive, stress level down to light cactus. As it often happens in the Southwest, the rest of the trip was windy but relatively calm and some parts of the road were completely dry. There was even a full moon and Orion guarded my left flank for the rest of the trip.

9:30ish
Got to Hoover Dam, just outside of Las Vegas, where they have decided to place a permanent check point for screening folks that might want to blow up the dam and leave the entire Southwest US without its main water supply. No matter, I'm practically home, I'm so very happy...I know the drill, stop, open trailer, smile and move on. Not this time--a wannabe terrorist-catcher decides it would be fun to watch me unload half my trailer right there in the raging wind with sprinkles on top. By this time I really thought I was in some weird nightmare and would wake up soon, but it was too cold, I felt severe pains in various places from the prior loading-in-a-rush adventure and I was standing fully clothed rather than lying down in my comfy jammies.
I told the nice fellow I do art festivals all the time and could show him some paperwork from this festival, but he kindly insisted that I unloaded the trailer instead, until he could see my entire stock. Not satisfied yet, he even made me open not one, not two, but three of my stock boxes. He must have liked my art because he went and talked to his supervisor and finally let me through. I secretly wished in Spanish that a quart of super-glue would fall on his lap one day. He smiled back and sent me on my way.

10:58:12 Got home and surrounded myself with my furry creatures who licked all my wounds away. There is no place like home.

Tuesday, February 4th 2003

And they're off! No time to linger this fine year, first festival just around the corner and I'm itching to get out there and hurt a little. Expectations are very low, with impending wars and the economy in shambles...but I have to go on, what else is there? I have new works, I have works that are about sold out, which means that this thing (whatever it is) that I'm doing is working.

I'm planning more online sales this year, I simply make too many prints and can't seem to stop myself. Got to get rid of them, they do me absolutely no good sitting around. Perhaps a few exhibitions too, they take time to enter and ship and maybe even go to the openings. The big event is the Valley of Fire exhibit in July and I'm making new landscapes like crazy. Funny, I think I wanted an excuse to make new landscapes. Funnier yet, why would I need an excuse? Something to ponder. Seems I'm always trying to justify what I do as valuable and engaging in pretty landscape making just isn't a worthwhile endeavor. Image exploring with figures does seem a bit more worthy of attention. Don't get me wrong, I love doing both, just that academic side that always wants to be doing something worth doing, Corot et al notwithstanding. More puzzle prints for sure, I really like those. More engravings...dang, already behind!

Anyhow, trailer is loaded up and the road is beckoning once more. Nothing to do but move forward in whichever way we can.

Tuesday, December 31 2002

What do I say to recap such a varied and strange year? Leaving current events aside, as if that were possible, my artist-year has been one of learning. I sure hope learning doesn't stop as time goes on.
To start, I learned about my peers. One thing that saddens me about many other artists is that they (perhaps I should say "we") can be elitist and full of complaints. I learned that prejudice and elitism exist rampant in a world purported to be so creative, open and all-accepting. We make divisions and groups and exclusions and sub-groups and woe is the poor bastard that doesn't fit into one of our cubby-holes; we spend more time making more rules and criteria than any other peer group I have ever been involved with, and we are harsh to those that exist outside the lines or dare to step even one toe over the boundaries. I learned that I didn't want to learn that. And I learned that I will fight that elitism with all my strength. I will judge no more.
The whining is a little tougher to put up with and also harder to understand. I whine too, a little only, before I hear myself and decide that either I do something or I shut up. Collective whining is worse. I have physically pushed someone out of my booth who didn't stop when I told them to. I might hang a "no whining" sign on my booth and in my studio. Perhaps I could sell t-shirts. Man, that's pathetic.

I also learned that I should have been an artist long ago but that it is not too late now.
I learned that there just isn't enough lifetime to make all the art I want to make. That perhaps I will make less art but that I must never stop doing something new. That I must never attempt to make something I don't want, it just won't come out right. That pleasing the audience pleases me, as every other entertainment has found, but that I must not let the audience dictate what the artist thinks and feels. This is a very important disctinction that is crucial for success in the art world: do what pleases your audience but continue to do what you think and feel. I have seen many good artists start doing what their audience tells them to do and the result is a disastrous mediocrity of soul-less art. We artists need to continue to trust ourselves, and trust that what our audience likes about us will continue to surface as we progress and do what we think is best.

I learned that I enjoy making art more than selling art, although selling art is something that every artist ought to do just to see what it takes. On the flip side, I learned I REALLY like for others to collect my art. That all the compliments from all the professors in the world aren't up to the level of one young fellow saying: "I've got to have that." I have got to have that--think about that. How many things in my entire life have I said that about?
I learned also that there are a lot of people out there taking advantage of those artists that have never tried selling on their own. Okay, it's hard, but it is possible and it shouldn't take a whole gob of money given to some unscrupulous someone who thinks scamming artists is a good gig. Be careful out there.
In any case, selling is darned hard work, whether taking a bunch of works to a gallery on consignment or setting up a 10 foot by 10 foot booth at 3:00am. The whole enterprise is physically and mostly emotionally draining and it takes a whole other person hiding inside the artist to do it. I now understand artists that just make art and stick it in a drawer, never caring whether it finds a new home or not. But it is, as most tough things are, rewarding without limit.

I learned that homeless people and feral cats break my heart, in that order. I adopted some kitties as a result. What to do about homelessness is something that baffles me, but I feel a series of woodcuts coming.

I learned that I enjoy little successes more than bigger ones, they are always cuter. I don't know, a tiny ribbon in a local festival rather than a big prize in a national competition, just tickles me more. I enjoy the big ones too, but not as much. Anyhow, it is rewarding to get recognition, no matter the size, I guess that's a better way of saying this.

Mostly I learned that I enjoy life and that I am one lucky lucky woman. With all the garbage that is ongoing in the world right now, I think right now is the time to rejoice. Happy New Year! The quest continues...

Friday, August 2 2002

This past month we headed off on vacation to peaceful Kansas. Excellent as usual, drove through the West in a horrible heat wave and even hiked some during our trip (in the heat wave). Must say it feels good to hit the top of Monarch Pass in Colorado, only place in the past few months that the temperature was a comfortable sixty-something.
But enough recreating, back to work in the past month I couldn't deal with all the backlog of carved blocks so I printed some. There's a show coming up in September that I needed to finish some prints for, in the theme "Celebrating Spirituality." I did some yoga like, communion with nature stuff. Desert, always desert!
Other than that, the most exciting thing going on is that I'm working with a paper maker and we are having much fun designing paper for my prints. Well, I'm having fun...Awesome power this internet has; don't really know this person, we e-mailed, she sent some samples, I printed on the samples...the rest will be history. She loves making paper and I love making prints, I think that's all that counts.
A book is also coming out soon, maybe over the winter. Working with a poet this time; actually it is all her doing, I just lend my images. Should be something to see, she writes some powerful stuff. I'm still working on my art festival book, slowly but surely it's all coming together. I think an e-book because I can point to all the resources right from the web.

Season starts next weekend in Durango. If all is as it was, it will storm like crazy. This year has been so dry that I'm afraid the sky will fall while I'm traveling. Let's hope no hail this time. After that, Zion in Utah, and Flagstaff over Labor Day.
In September I want to get some blocks ready for the big festivals later in the fall. Funny feeling letting go of the blocks, but I can't see keeping them forever. Some I can't let go and those I stuff deep in the recesses of the studio.
Which reminds me, I'm in the middle of tearing paper for those pesky cards that sell so well.

Friday, June 14th, 2002

Whataweek!!! Boxes are finished, nicely covered in a fabric that matches my new display walls. Matted bin is also finished, a nice walnut box that opens into a display case. I think I finally finished all my "fine-tuners" for the year in term of my display; anything to set-up and tear-down cleaner and quicker. Anyhow, the boxes in question are display stands for my smaller works, neatly tucked into their rotary greeting card display trees. Now all I have to do is open the box, put the stand on top...that's it! No cardboard to put away and I get a nice little "closet" to stuff my backpack into.

I framed this week, practically continually. I start out hating it, but after floating a few prints and double matting a few others I get into it and think up neat stuff to do to them so that they will look nice to strangers. Funny how I get to thinking that framing is also an art and nobody to frame my prints better than me. Until I can afford a framer that is...
I also printed some, just some little cards that I had depleted. I guess they are selling, the little rascals! I have several "holes" in my display tree that I need to fill, maybe it's time for another hike with some blocks handy.

That sums up the week, 5 twelve hour days, matting and framing. Fun, being an artist. This weekend I will frame some more, then proof a print for an exchange that is coming up due in July. It's a war and peace theme, a tree of people holding up the world. Can't wait to see what it looks like.

Friday, June 7th, 2002

I finally got the newsletter out last week. It seems like it takes longer to recover from a tough season. Nevertheless, I made a list and am crossing out items one by one. This week I got the paper cut for my next prints, although I'm not anxious to get printing. The only one I absolutely need to get done is the War and Peace exchange for the Printmaker's group. I finished cutting that and am ready to at least proof. Four blocks are ready to get cleaned up and framed, actually two are ready to urethane, two are being recarved.
Two galleries seem to like my work quite a bit and I clicked with the owners enough to where I'm willing to let go of my art to hang on their walls. It feels good on the one hand, to have someone else so excited about my work. On the other, I'm cleaned out of anything larger than 16 x 20 so next week will be dedicated entirely to framing. Ambivolence sets in, I should be printing but getting my work "outahere" requires dressing it up in nice mats and frames. So I frame.
The gallery in Springdale Utah is lovely and should get a fair number of visitors during the peak season, which is just starting. Beautiful setting and some good stuff hanging. Today I finish the boxes I promised to finish last weekend. I'm a poor sloppy carpenter.

Thursday, May 30th, 2002

It's been a busy season! I can't believe summer is upon us except for the horrendous rising heat outside. In any case, I thought I would try recording my daily activities to help myself along.
This past week I spent the bulk of my time re-organizing the trailer. I suppose that I could get to a point where efficiency reaches a maximum, but I'm not there yet. Setting up and breaking down are the toughest few hours of a festival and anything I can do to make life easier for myself is worth the trouble. After a couple of years of festivals, things come up that need to be done. Reorganization included building a shelf and carpeting the walls so things don't get scuffed so much. I think it probably took me longer than it should have.
Next I need to build boxes for print racks and the cards. I want the boxes to become stands when I'm at a festival, so that there is no cardboard to put away and hide from customers. They will get done this weekend or my name isn't Sparky.

Here is the Sparky story, fresh from my latest newsletter:
All about perspective this time. No, not the artist's method of making a 2-D representation of a building look 3-D, but putting things in perspective.
There I was, surrounded by wild feral cats with not a can of tuna in sight...wait, that's not it. There I was in an art festival in the midst of 60 mile per hour winds, watching my booth and my newly polished works being pelleted by sand. The gusts came early during set-up on Wednesday and didn't let up until Sunday morning, only to return by the time we all nervously started to take our booths down that afternoon. There was sand every where, in the mats, inside the glass of brightly framed works, sticking to my booth walls, inside every box and bag...we chewed sand all weekend, drank it with our refreshments and watched our potential customers rushing by, cowering and spitting, wanting to get home. Needless to say sales didn't exactly flourish for the artists, although I consider myself lucky in more ways than one.

You see, Thursday evening, after the first day in the wind I returned to my motel needing a shower and a deep de-sanding. Hot water felt great and revived me somewhat; I decided to check on the trailer which I had unhooked the prior day so I wouldn't have to drag it all weekend. I parked the trailer out of the way near the trash bins and some piled up mattresses that the motel was evidently throwing away. Walking toward the trailer I spotted a homeless individual with a dog, both half laying half sitting on the mattresses. And I had just been mentally whining that Motel 6 didn't have enough cable channels...
I asked him if he had eaten and he said no. I went back to my room and got some money, it really didn't matter how much, might have even been a freshly earned twenty. He smiled and his weird looking blue-heeler (although I'm told they all look a bit strange) wagged his tail heartily.  Someone gave me money for something I love to do, and now I was getting even more satisfaction by putting that money to good use. Twice the worth, it was really all that simple.

Next day I was in such a good mood that I earned the nickname "Sparky." Everyone was complaining and some artists left early, demanding refunds and such silly things. The wind blew, there were fewer customers, a threat of rain, sand everywhere...it really didn't matter all that much. I considered myself the luckiest person on earth for the rest of the weekend and long beyond.

Thursday, January 17th, 2002

Another uneventful turn of the year, other than the fireworks down the Vegas Strip. But a new year brings on new opportunity, doesn't it? A chance to shed some old habits, a renewed energy...where does it come from?
Anyhow, this year I feel calmer--a side effect of being more organized, perhaps--and better able to look at the proverbial "big picture." The calm feels strange, because I'm often very impetuous and over-anxious on the inside. A good calm, I think, I'm just not used to it and don't want my life to turn into a duldrum, especially not my printmaking. No, it's more a feeling of confidence in what I am doing; some of that annoying second-guessing is gone--I know how to do this now. I really do.
And with that comes a desire to get more done...how much is too much, after all? Especially if doing more comes a bit easier now. With the confidence also comes a desire to try new things, more engraving this year, for one. I want to get good at engraving wood and better at printing engravings. The detail work takes me away to a world where time doesn't exist, I wonder if it is the same for all wood engravers.
But I'm also fearful, no, maybe suspicious is a better word, of this calm and contentment. Struggle is all I know, a continuous internal gut wrenching fight is what drives me. The storm ahead and the storm behind keep me sailing. What will drive me now? Funny thing is, I feel more productive already, maybe I have achieved a near ideal state of energy. Focus is more tangible, what I do is more acceptable to me, my life is almost too good at this point. A terrible thing, to be content and have things work out well, but only to a catholic. Which is why I am suspicious and expect some flat tires perhaps. Okay, have-jack-will-travel.
I keep thinking that I will become more involved in art things, community things...and I keep retreating at the last moment. Not who I am. Focus disappears quickly and time even faster. Others benefit from coffees and lunches, those things destroy me and taint my work. So I go at it alone, feels better that way.
Maybe this year I will call myself an artist.

Saturday, December 16th, 2001

Possibly the last entry of the year, seems as if I should say something deep and meaningful but instead I think I'll just do some recapping and some thinking ahead. The end of another year and the beginning of the next are separated by a pause, like the time it takes for the turning of a huge page. I'm already thinking what's next...
Next are the spring festivals, already booked. I got into some of the hard-to-get-in ones and it feels good to have overcome that particular hurdle. I got more efficient at setting up and tearing down, I got better at traveling, parking and all the little things that makes this hard life easier. Something changed because sales have grown steadily, but I have changed so many things since I started that it is difficult to pin-point what. Maybe the collective inevitable progress of all the little things, maybe practice, maybe just the passage of time...maybe I will crash and burn next year? Have to be ready for such ups and downs in this world. But somehow I keep thinking bigger and better.
I'm starting earlier next year, perhaps choosing better where to go, trying some new things, doing some old things over again. Have to keep changing, but only just enough.
This year I felt really grateful toward those who support me, customers, collectors, the people that attend festivals and stop and say hi every time, friends, family. I feel lucky to have them all. I feel lucky every day of my life. I felt that the act of giving me something for my art is a hugely generous act. Some people thank me for making art! Absolutely amazingly incredibly WOW!
Well, I will keep making art, that's for sure. I feel calmer now, more assured (also more organized which helps the whole process). I feel I can do this thing we call being an artist and what a marvelous thing being an artist is.
More to the reality thing, we are going on vacation to the most peaceful blissful place on earth. The batteries recharge there, and I always leave with a feeling that everything will be alright always.

Tuesday, August 14th, 2001

(Posted in Barenforum, a woodcut printmakers online forum)
Hello dear Bareners and forgive the long post that follows, but I just _have_ to relate something about the experiences of my last two art festivals, somewhat related to the "rules" thing and the "editioning" thing. Mostly it is just a giddy rambling of nonsense, due to the high that comes from putting in 10 14-hour days in sequence, bad sleep, and great driving.

I am starting to feel about organized printmaking like I do about organized religion--a real good thing gone awry by the use of too many rules. Rules are intended in good faith, I'm sure of it, and invented to reassure and order, vindicate perhaps and even unite through the following of the written dogma. Then there is real life. Perhaps this might explain better to some why I have terminated some commitments.
I see printmakers, artists for that matter, of all walks of life being restricted, no, constricted and stifled by RULES. Is not the creative process supposed to be free and unrestricted? Is creativity not, in some way, the complete opposite of formula-rules-based manufacturing, the very process we spat on just a few weeks ago? Or perhaps the prescribed steps of printmaking, of art, are different in some obscure way which escapes me anymore, from the prescribed steps of the making of an iris reproduction? Rules divide, exclude, limit, constrict, choke and kill.
When you are alone for a few days, especially driving through the heart of Navajo lands in the Western US (or pick your own desert, any desert will do), you get time to think and hopefully introspect upon the life you have chosen and why you do the things you do. I am beginning to understand, Dave. Editioning? This print has a number and is worth this much because there is a rule that says so. This other exact print does not have a number and it is not worth as much because there is a rule that says so. I am beginning to understand.
Some people ask about those numbers, they do in fact. Would they recoil in horror at the print they have stared at with glazed eyes for the past 10 minutes if I told them it was an unlimited edition? I print them, always will, same image, same hand and sweat. Would they consider it a post card if they saw the magic number exceed 200?

I met another woodcut printmaker in this past show, if he is listening to Baren, please don't be offended. I forget the name. It was 9:20 Sunday morning and I was so elated that another woodcut printmaker was in the same show. He was disappointed at his Saturday sales, made a curt comment about my prices and the fact that I was selling cards (unlimited editions, unnumbered, unsigned, gasp!). An envious sort of disdain was in his face. I wanted to see his work, selling in the $300-$600 range (my top price for a framed 30" x 40" is $225). He commented his booth wasn't set up yet--the show opened at 10:00; I had already made two sales, my little experience in the business tells me early risers shop in the calm of the morning. I was saddened, mostly about meeting another woodcut printmaker that wasn't all that...nice. I thought we were all happy folk.

The rule, of course, is that we are artists and our intellectual property is worth money. I look at the price list for the recent "prints, drawings, and pastels" exhibit (St. Louis Artists' Guild). Some woodcuts are priced the same as monoprints, some ink drawings are lower than etchings, some charcoals are cheaper than my prints...how much money? Do sophisticated collectors walk the art festivals? Will they ever? Do we really care so much about these people that tow an ox-cart-full of rules with them? How much money can we charge a 20-year old student who took a 24" x 32" framed print on his bike or a waitress looking for a present for her parents?  "Hello, this is my art, look but don't touch. You can't afford it, it's REAL ART! Too bad." Pride and envy are two of the deadliest sins for the artist.

Fellow printmakers, there is nothing like the feeling of having a young person walk into your booth and say: "I have to have that!" Care about them. Get out there because people are hungry for art that is different and that is fresh and that they haven't seen before. People are hungry for art that they can afford but that doesn't have a Kachina doll and a lizard as the main subjects (not that there is anything wrong with that, there is just a lot of it out here). People are hungry for your art, your artist's soul on a piece of paper. Give it to them, forget the rules and sell it to them at a reasonable cost; they want your art. There is no merit, glory or honor in being a poor and unseen artist weaving magic gold threads into perfect paper and demanding recognition and reward. But you have to get out there and work 14-hour days and get up next weekend and do it again. And you have to open your booth early and think of your audience when pricing...or you can cut your ear off and let people speak about you after you are dead, if at all.

Upon returning from fantasy-land I found the returned packages from the St. Louis Artist's Guild and the Hunterdon Museum of Art. Very nice to have been shown in those fine exhibitions (and I mean this), and even got an award. I followed all the rules in the respective prospectus, many many rules, among them one that struck me: "pack art with at least three inches of non-foam-peanut packing on all sides." I pictured a little old lady, a volunteer of course, measuring with a ruler on one hand and a huge REJECTED stamp on the other. Guess I passed the packing test this time...whew! Prospectus for exhibitions are perhaps the most lucid example of the rules we make for ourselves. "Work must be delivered between 10:00 and 12:00 in a reusable sturdy carton with the name of the artist clearly printed on the outside, no crates, no plastic peanuts, no no no no no no no no no no no no...."
Great to be shown amongst other works on paper lovers, but my art is back here and it does not belong with me. I was through with it the minute I finished printing and now I want it out there with whomever wishes to hang it on their wall or collect it in their drawers. Anywhere but here with me.

So anyhow, limit the edition (less than 200!!!!!!) and the type of paper and the pigments or inks and the imagery and the audience and the collector base and the competitions and the folks to hang with and the way to print and the tools (most of all the tools) and the type of wood and everything else. Oh, and don't forget to be creative.
I will stay here in my crazy world and begin to get ready for the next 20,000 people that will walk by my art, sitting next to the purse maker, the jeweler, the happy charcoal guy that "does" wolves, the potter and the weaver, that metal sculptor that uses tractor parts...all of us out in a rule-less world, sharing our art with a rule-less crowd, free as birds singing our songs at sunrise, happy as an artist can possibly be.

Much health to all,
Maria

"Others may argue about whether the world ends with a bang or a whisper. I just want to make sure that mine doesn't end with a whine."  --Barbara Gordon

Friday, July 27th, 2001

Art festival season is upon me. I remember the spring and tried to book less shows, spread farther apart. So why do I have more shows, sometimes 3 in a row? Geez! Let me speak to my secretary!!! As usual, caught up in the excitement of the season. For a not-very-social person, I sure do like those art festivals; a psychological mystery to be solved some day. But not today, because this entry is all about not being ready for stuff.
I wasn't ready for my first art festival, way long ago. I didn't have a tent or display racks, I had 20 works to show, none of them framed two weeks before the date. Somehow a tent was rented, display racks materialized out of plywood, works were shown and I even sold some stuff. Wow, how'd that happen?
I wasn't really ready to be an artist, not quite. I needed a body of work, more quality prints, more knowledge about the business...but I plunged anyway somewhat recklessly. Today, I'm not ready for this season, yet a million things to do, more framing, new mat boxes that convert into display racks, a clean tent top (hopefully will get to that this weekend).  I wasn't ready for my first award, or the first exhibition (how do you ship art?), or the first wholesale contract.
So much to do, if I only had a month to stop time and catch my breath...I probably would just start running faster, wouldn't I. Running is so much fun, though! And diving head first into the pool without first testing the water, that's my way. PLUNGE!
I'm not ready...but here I go. I suspect when the time comes, I'll know what to do and do what needs to be done.

Saturday, June 30th, 2001

I am officially in a state of hybernation, as far as any extraneous activity is concerned, concentrating at the moment on making art. The simplify theme from last entry reigns now, it has become engrained in my mind. Simplify: make prints, share prints. Yes, share instead of sell, I fell it is more in the spirit of what I do.
No more festivals until August, in fact, no more anything until August. I resigned from many things I had started in a printmaking group; always hate myself a little when I do that, but not as much as I despise the thought of taking time away from myself. I believe this time I have learned a painful lesson. Burn bridges, lots of them, and keep looking forward. Unwise advice only to those who have never made their own path; it takes energy, boundless amounts, and it takes solitude, painful and lonely as it may get. And not as bad as it sounds really, because the rewards are aplenty and they reside exclusively in the path that I blaze and in the effort that blazing requires. "Because narrow is the gate and contracted the road that leads on to life, and few are they who discover it."

Well, that's all definitely much too serious, and I am currently in play mode, my most productive state. I have learned many things from many people, and the more I learn the more I can discriminate between true teachings and memorized mantras. So I refuse not to get more original, as someone adviced, and I refuse to stick to one theme, as another said. That would mean artistic death to me. I have also learned that the ignorant masses aren't, and they can indeed distinguish and appreciate original art (original in its true sense) from pictures of cacti, beautiful as they may be. Anyhow, people seem to like what I do and I consider myself lucky for the moment, as there may be a time when they won't.

So I finished the light seekers but it needs something that will make it marvelous; right now just a sketch (a 24" x 36" carved sketch). And I finished 'struck' but he is sad and much too lonesome and he is a beaten man, so I made 'viva!' a piece of beauty and movement and wood grain and energy, deserving of a sequel. The wood is joined, the models dancing in my head already. 'Newel' is coming around and will be finished soon hopefully to honor the mysterious hand-made paper that inspired it.
Hopelessly behind on the other things, as usual, taking slides, updating the database and web site, entering more competitions in which I'm batting .825 this spring season and you would think that would be encouraging. Even got a prize, and it still feels good to read the words: 'Dear Artist, Congratulations on being accepted..."

Finished about 30 little prints, the nature ones, and now I'm hopelessly behind on building the little journal books that I wanted to make with them. I think the vessel series is over, I feel images becoming forced. Could a series be over after only 8 prints? Perhaps it is just in remission. The figures are thriving, too many to keep in my head, too many little pieces of paper laying around in the studio with a crazy sketch. And the cast paper awaits, as do the paper paintings, the etchings, the drawing that I started and never finished...I need to be 3 artists, not one.

No choice now but to go on, a delicous destiny. I feel a good season coming, tired as the spring made me, I look forward to much more, new places, fresh faces, more learning...most of all, new roads.

Friday, May 4th, 2001

Another Art Festival coming up, one of the best. It's automatic now, the set-up, the energy surge, the "make-ready"... Yet every time I wonder how I could be better, set up a more attractive booth, I wish I could serve cheese and wine to add to the gallery "feel." Just kidding. The word of the year is "simplify." I almost have it down, more efficient, more streamlined, without losing quality. Of course each time I also have new works and more and more of the mini-prints...I feel more evolution coming. An interesting balance, evolution and simplification. The pitfalls of simplification to a set routine are in this world also, I see many artists doing the same thing over and over--same thing, same results. Yet I could get over complicated also and go the "two hare" route. (He who chases two hares gets none).
I like the larger works but also enjoy the immediacy of a 4" x 6" print. The larger ones tire me and beckon me to keep working at them, as do the multi-color works. The small ones invite me to play...but I can't play all the time.
Three more to go, four actually, if we go into June, but with a break in between. I meant three more in a row. Weeks tend to get longer now, I get more done in between because I know I won't have the weekend and I know I need to get stuff done now or postpone until another week. A week can be an eternity.
I caught up with the website and slides and databases and all those other essentials. There is still time for all that. But there is always something else, no time to linger now!

Sunday, April 15th, 2001

Oh what fun we are having... Went to Reno for a huge art festival and found that the trip was well worth it. I also learned that I can do this, take off on the road a-print-a-peddlin' with the help of the new tiny trailer (official name) and a bit of adventuresome spirit. Also did a couple of shows here in town, the first two of the season.
Artists in these art festivals have as many diverse attitudes as the goods they sell. Some artists and craftsmen I assume, like me, love their craft and find the proposition of exchanging art for money somewhat curious and exciting. Others simply love the road life and will sell what sells. Nothing wrong with that either, although the outlook of these groups are vastly different. I stay away from those making things for money and stick with those that make art for love, with love. Vast difference.
This weekend I'm resting, if I can call working on catching up the database and web site--resting. I have designed and am cutting three, no, make that four large pieces. Larger pieces are a huge challenge, as everything is more crucial and logistics sometimes stop a project (how to lay a piece of damp paper 30" x 40" on a block when your wing span is that of a 5' 2" person, for example).
The challenge of every piece is what keeps life interesting. I think of jobs and careers where everything is spelled out and there are instructions for every task and a task list for every day. So many artists I see that want instructions for every task... might as well shackle me...
Uncharasteristically, I enjoy these little social events, talking to people, explaining the craft, letting some into the crevices of the mind that thinks up the ideas that my hands carve... and always welcoming the ones who return to see what's new in my little booth.

A couple of new developments, I was asked to give a lecture, demo, workshop type of thing in MO this fall. Promises to be a blast. I like students, really. And I signed with a wholesaler who seems to like my work and is hungry for more. Interesting feeling about knowing that there might just be a real outlet for all these pieces of paper I'm collecting. Makes me want to be better, as there now may be a sure audience. Change my art? Time always tells, doesn't it, I'm not worried about it. Seems like ideas are coming faster now making me yearn for 100 second minutes or 100 minute hours.

A long stretch lies ahead, 5 shows on 5 consecutive weekends and the challenge of keeping up with my work. No time to linger now! I reached the century mark last week, really just another print got made. Like the passing of the new year, the landmark is artificial, time keeps going smoothly and the new year is really just another new day, as the 100th print was just another print. Time to make another yet.

Sunday, February 25th, 2001

New thoughts this year about art and printmaking and art and art... Too much talking and too much thinking is what brings artists down; at least what brings me down. I started a couple of drawings and some larger prints, immediately feeling as if I were cheating my "1,000 project." I will never make it if I distract myself with these, I will be off track, how will I ever catch up, am I not focusing on the goal enough? Enough! Too much talking.
I have decided to not think this year, and just draw and print and do whatever I please. Be it large monstruous prints that set me back a month or a batch of idiotic but beautiful tiny little note cards to share with those that want them. No thinking, just making prints. Oh yeah! And DRAW!
I had forgotten the pleasure of the quick marks left by a stick of vine charcoal on a virgin and pristine piece of good honest paper. What a pleasure! How I missed it... The subject? Who cares, I'm drawing, I'm cutting, I'm printing all the time now. Six or seven at a time, ten more in my head driving me back to the studio for more and more and more. What a junkie...

I am feeling art this year and better things come of it. The visual is what counts in art, I feel it more and more. It is about the images, not about the explanations or complex ideologies behind them. Art is image, without an image, no, AN IMAGE, there is nothing to see.
I let go a bit of working in a series, although the same figurative and landscape subjects keep appearing by magic. I let go of the few rules I had left. I like the little ones, they are fun to make and I have a blast printing them. I no longer care wether I am properly pleasing the printmaking world. This year I am simply making prints.

Tuesday, January 9th, 2001

Whew! A new year and I'm right on track...well, sort of. I had a great vacation at the end of last year and rested and thought and thought about this quest of mine. Nowhere to go but up!
What else would I be doing? Am I going too fast? Why would I slow down if fast suits me? Would I make better art if I slowed down or just get fatter from sitting too much?
I don't know the answers, but work I must and so I keep going. Felt good to get back into the studio and work again. I started six projects and finally had to put two away so I wouldn't drive myself batty; at least not yet. But I did print the snakes, 252 in one day, the most ever. I remember when 30 was an all day affair, even with the press. I start printing and get into a "groove," a flow I guess they call it, music on, feet a-dancing, roller a-rolling, everything seems to smooth out after about 20-30 prints and my thoughts can fly while I print.
At those times, when my thoughts are flying, that's when I think of more ideas--they seem to just come down from the attic. I better look and see who's up there some day. Anyhow, big plans for this year: 8 fairs in spring, 1 book illustration project, 2 other projects, cards galore, puzzle prints...
What a life!

Wednesday, November 29th, 2000

Someone asked me what the desert does in the winter...
Arguably, this is the best time of the year out here. Roses explode like they are going through a second spring. Cacti bloom off and on when the sun is just right, everything is deadly still under the bright sunshine. Cold is good for the desert, seems as though it safeguards the plant life as if placed in a refrigerator. Desert critters, excepting the large mammals, sleep through the winter; no lizards scurrying about, no mice, no road-runners, no insects, no snakes. Sometimes it snows on the yuccas and joshua trees, giving the landscape the frosted look of a fantasy land right out of a Disney movie. Everything is perfectly still, as if waiting for the unlikely rain or the gust of wind, frozen in time.
Walking or hiking this time of year is a delight. Just cool enough to allow you to enjoy the desert, the occasional semi-frozen stream girgles and is the only sound the crisp air allows to be heard for miles. With the heat in check, rams lock horns to decide who the next (president?) king of the herd will be, as the rest of the mountain sheep watch and let those of us who hike deep enough into their canyons enjoy their company. Foxes also come out, to the edges of the Colorado, and try their luck at fishing a nice big carp. Blue and night herons busily prepare for the spring chicks, flying about also mid-day, gathering. Other birds occasionally fill the air with bursts of life, perhaps visiting from Northern lands, maybe permanent residents of the thickets. Burros and horses come out to play, literally, enjoying brisk gallops through the dry washes or long steady walks, head to tail, back and forth, down the steep drops to the waterholes.
The most striking quality of the winter desert is the stillness of the crisp air. Without humidity, the cold is friendly and the low winter sun never ceases to shine, warming skin and spirit. Wind is rare because there is no hot land to propel afternoon gusts. In the summer everything hides because of the heat and only the night brims with life. The desert winter lets life live.

Thurday, August 31st, 2000

This month was tough. First the vacation, always refreshing but disruptive, this time I found it absolutely necessary to START ANOTHER PROJECT??? Couldn't help myself! The roads are so beautiful and I did the Heading Home and two more engravings Out Early and Opening Up, all about roads. Engraved them while at the mall fair, which went pretty well.
Now I started to write, I missed writing a little. So I'm up to it! An illustrated road diary, from LV to Kansas and back. Should be fun.
Another fair this weekend, leaving tomorrow for Zion Park in beautiful Springdale, Utah. We'll see how it goes, but couldn't ask for a better location in terms of pretty and close to home. I will upload some of the road diary before I leave tomorrow, although there are many things to do yet before departing.
On the 1,000 project, I have about 4 prints started but not finished, although quite far on two of them. I should be able to finish them a couple of days after my return. Next "big one" is Boulder City! Also teaching continuing education, that should be a load of fun. Let's hope I don't forget that my classes start! Busy season coming up...

Wednesday, July 12th, 2000

Finished two more this week, Welcoming Summer and an engraving Heading Home. Now to get ready for the art fair next week, 3 whole days at the mall. It should at least be well attended. So to matting and framing, can't wait until I have an assistant to do all that, maybe in another 2-3 years? Funny! Already man on the moon is screaming to be carved and I have the big print to go on the red-earth paper in my head and pretty worked out. Will draw it tomorrow.
Right now it's all business, need to print and mail out annoucements for the fall season to all previous customers, fortunately a growing list. Then make sure everything is ready to go for the fair. I'm having a wee bit of trouble deciding on who to go with for the credit card thing, but I think my bank is first. They don't do e-commerce so I may have to go with charge.com for that. Piecemeal, so inefficient.
Enough for now, need to finish the web pages and send my first newsletter out tomorrow.

Wednesday, July 5th, 2000

Good day today! I finished the prickly pear print and carved the second state of welcoming summer (pretty sure on the name?). Tomorrow I will print that second state and perhaps start carving man on the moon.
Guess I won't take that printmaking class after all. I really think I am done with school and I need my schedule freed up for Oregon/L.A. trips if I feel the need in the fall. Tough decision, but I believe I'm doing the right thing. So hard to know...
New technique with the welcoming summer and man in the moon prints. I am printing by hand (runs of 100, but that's why I worked at UPS all those years), and using very soft touch with diverse barens and even my hand. Edition will vary a bit, although already pretty consistent with the summer print. The effect is soft and shimmery, especially if I leave it flat. I don't know though, irregular shiny shimmer? Hmmmm...
Pat dropped by, what a neat visit. She's as usual, into her yoga and a thousand other things. Hard to believe I'm the one who's focused now. In any case, always good to talk with her and exchange stories. Next time, I will go up North to see her, need more roads!
I also worked on the designs for the new road engraving, tough to decide wether to go vertical or horizontal. Well, a bit past 9:00pm and a bit more carving to do.

Wednesday, June 28th, 2000

Energy is back, I think. I have six shows/art fairs lined up for the fall, maybe I will add the Art Encounter opening before I dump them. It’s inevitable now. No sales, not a gallery for me; it’s a business, you know. Also the Australian exchange exhibit, should be something to see. Israel?
A trip to St.George/ Cedar City is imminent now, I need to check out the tiny gallery scene for the landscapes. Will probably do Scottsdale, at least apply, since they have raving reviews from past events and I need to check out the Arizona scene sometime.
Now for the exciting part, I’m going to make 1,000 woodcuts. I have reserved the .com name and started a Hotmail account to mail out stuff: Quest: 1000 Woodcuts, nice ring, don’t it?
These days it is tough to get in the studio, I’ve been too hot and slightly sick, I think. But I’m making progress on a multi-colored print and another vessels print. Oh yeah, and the Exchange #6 for Baren, will make two and see which one I like best.
Pat and Mike coming for the 4th weekend, I’m jazzed. Always good to see them.
Better get my butt in the studio.

Wednesday, June 7th, 2000

Well well, here we are. Summerlin was good, hell, great! Henderson, on the other hand, sucked. Lots of visitors but nobody buying anything and definitely not woodcuts. Can’t let it get to me, though.
Charlevoix sent everything back, Art Encounter sold a piece, hard to tell with them what’s going to sell or not. OOW I for example, didn’t get any comments; my prize winner. But I will again, don’t worry about that.
Strange thing this art selling. I think in the future I would like someone else to sell it for me, how about that. I need to hit more local galleries and also the ones close to the Nat Parks in Utah. Will test that market in the fall, with the Zion show. Also seems like there are enough in town, Summerlin again, Marketplace again, and Boulder. Four in the fall is enough, oh and forgot one in late July inside Meadows, if that goes another in September. Then back to the business of entering competitions, never know what may happen there.
I did send in entry to CSP. Not to LAPS because they want two printmaking modalities and I only have woodcuts right now. But I am planning on going to Ruth’s for a week or so and doing some etchings, then I will have those and will apply. Etching sounds like fun, much closer to drawing than woodcuts, although I’m getting better at the “sketch” woodcut.
Finished a couple of landscapes that I carved in Henderson and the Sacred Tree print, drying and flattening as we speak. I also made paper, what fun that is! I want to try paperpulp painting with some desert landscapes, won’t that be just perfect?
I’m working on more garden stuff, I took some pictures of luscious desert flora in the Santa Barbara trip and can’t wait to get those started. Maybe even hanga. Also working on the tree museum pot print, will be a successful one, I think. Maybe some classic nudes in small and a couple of large ones. Also want to print the paper I made with the landscapes that I already carved. Much to do before next show.
That’s enough for now.

Monday, April 17th, 2000

Okay, so life changes. Charlevoix promised they would send my stuff back, I’m jazzed (don’t take much). Art Encounter would like to keep me at a reduced price, how nice! I don’t really like their customer service, but then again, I guess I’m not much of a customer for them–still, they should treat their artists better. Oh well.
Web is going well, I am signing up for Credit Card taking through a broker. We will see how it goes, I’m revamping the entire website to have a better “shopping experience.” Exciting stuff, this selling art shit. I’m thinking of canning the Inv.Artists part, I don’t really know yet.
Just got done with Marketplace Art Walk 2000; 6 sales, 2 to family, but who’s complaining! It was dreadfully slow and most people did not sell jack–so I’m cruising. Next one is Summerlin Park and then Henderson a week after that.
Which means that I still have to keep up this crazy pace. I like it, although it is exhausting. I finished two pieces (oow’s) during the festival and will print them this week. Also will frame some different stuff and fine tune my display. How fun fun fun!!!!
I need to print and finish the big man I’ve been thinking about, sculpted dude. Also start a big landscape like the little ones but about a 12 x 24. Now that I have my little pieces I need some bigger pieces; never ends. Credit cards would be a plus, but they will have to wait until the income is a bit more stable.
Money exchange is done, I need to work on the Sacred tree thing but it is not due until August. So let them wait.
Gray paper figures, dumm dumm! How many times do I have to tell you.
Grinning, of course. I’m doing okay even by my standards. I will do more. One thousand prints, here I come.
Fall is coming, maybe I can repeat last year.
Off to work I go.

Saturday, March 18th, 2000

Wow! It’s been a while. Let’s see...I finished Together, a little print for the Swap Shop, two bookmarks, and a partridge–I’ve been working, okay?
Almost done with my Money exchange print. Got accepted at Summerlin and Henderson art fests, ordered an 800-buck tent to do them, I guess I’m into this thing now, up to my ears. No short jokes please.
Had some web orders, mostly small prints, but they keep coming in. Also took slides of Together and put up on web page, where have you been, godammit!! Catch up, will ya? I’m matting and framing.
Art Encounter, hmmm, what to say about them. I sent them a note to downgrade my space and have not heard back. Nasty–poor business practice. I actually think they make money with artists and don’t sell much. They do have that ripoff framing business and the very ripoff repro business, which charges the artist–again! I’m sure they think they are doing a good thing. I’m also sure they sell paintings. Oh well. I downgraded my space and will be selling my shit myself. In another 6 months, I will dump them unless they sell something. It isn’t so much to ask to sell something in a year, is it?
Volunteered to mail out the newsletter, I’m an idiot. Repeat, I’m an idiot. I have too much to do already. I’m an incredibly unintelligent idiot, redundant as it may seem.
Will finish My Two Cents this week, then it’s on to more bookmarks, the yucca flowers, the other antiscians? That’s a one day project, could try. Then more figures, on gray paper, like the Carved Men. Midtone paper looks so much better, guess those renaissance drawers knew what they were doing. Enough. Get to work.

Sunday, February 27th, 2000

Article will come out on the 1st of March, just in time for my workshop to have good attendance. Let’s hope. No Southern Graphics this year, gotta make some money at home. Sold a print to a webster and she told her prof and he might want me to come and teach a workshop and maybe give a lecture. What a hoot.
Finished the Junin Toiro print, doesn’t look so bad, I guess. No great thang, though, which should tell me something about dealing with strange themes. I think I work better when freed of such heavy burden ?
What else? Tomorrow I start printing the cover for WEN, need to get that out of the way before starting anything else. I’m working on two little ones, reduction feel but will cut separate blocks for them, just like the Japanese. I might even try to print them with waterbased pigments and rice flour paste. They are innocent enough that I could try and if it doesn’t work out, print in oils as usual. Why not?!
Have an opening on June 10th at Art Encounter, they cover some things and I cover some things. It should be a lot of fun, but also hard work. Will have to tell mom soon so she can prepare. Started my drawing for the tree engraving, will look pretty awesome I feel it.
Also ready to print my guy/gal combo in the transparent chiaroscuro style, if there is such a thing. I know what I mean.
So gotta print print print!!!

Thursday, February 17th, 2000

So here we are, me and you. RJ did an article on me today, nice reporter lady and she seemed extremely competent too. Should get some people into that upcoming workshop at Dickie Blickie, let’s hope.
So should I stay or should I go? To Southern Graphics Conference, that is. I just don’t know, I’m tired right now and about the last thing I want to do is to go to a conference so soon into my art career. Should join SGC, Jim says. So I will, of course. Need to find out about them and send in the clowns, I mean, the application.
Still have not sent my app for California Printmakers or LA Printmakers, what be wrong with moi? Draggin’ my feet, like Golding used to say. Hey! I used two gurus in one day’s diary, wonder if there is some significance about that.
Finished Carved Men, that’s a nice print. Finished Antiscians and it sucks the big one, so I need to do an additional print for the Exchange #5 thingie. Gorrreeeee! Nice rainbow roll, though.
Have another in the carvedmen style going already, I scraped on it today a bit. And I still want to do Tree Museum, Sculpted Man, and start a hanga Arboretum series.
So get going!!!
Oh yeah, finished my flyers for DB workshop and need to start on my instruction booklet thingie. A breeze.
And this weekend I’m going to Los Angeles to meet more Bareners from Southern Cal, sounds like fun!
Back to carvies carvies carvies...

Thursday, February 3rd, 2000

Can you believe it, another month... Finished my Carved Men, silly title, huh? I couldn’t think of anything else. Slides tomorrow. Then send out some more competitions. I’m striking out so far this year, must have been beginner’s luck last year.
I entered a couple of art fairs, see how that goes. My energy is back, but I had a tough time with those stupid but lovely metallic inks. Perhaps I need to modify them a bit more, just hate to use all those goops. Will finish this weekend on the first state of four for the Ju nin, To iro print. I have another in store, should be easier going with regular inks.
Baren is exploding with activity, shows in foreign countries, shows here, newsletter, swapping prints. Where will it all lead? For now it is extremely satisfying to be able to be useful.
Starting a workshop in March. Will teach Tuesdays at Dick Blick. See how it goes. I’m doing two back to back to see if I can lure some folks into printmaking. Need to go to DB and get some prices.
Seems only a bit strange to have friends through the internet–only. Artists are so weird.

Thursday, January 27th, 2000

Depressed today, but I’m printing. Looks good too, printed the highlights on the multiple figure carving; looks ghostly, wonderful, now I have another idea to almost match the tone of colored paper (or black?) and make ghost prints. Or use the ghost images on backgrounds... possibilities are endless, why are there so many possibilities? I’ll never get them all done!
Oh man, back to printing. 50 in the run. I also gave him that sculpted look, now he looks like a carved block, they are so beatutiful.
Burned out on exchanges, burned out on Baren a little bit, but I’ll get that back. Maybe I’m just tired? I need my sun.
I also should show my work to someone and seek guidance, I need somebody else’s opinion besides my wonderful mother’s, on how to proceed, what am I missing, what should I explore? Or should I just keep exploring this imagery? When does an artist say when regarding a series or a particular style?

Wednesday, January 26th, 2000

Finished carving two pieces today, one for WEN cover, the other a figurative more challenging piece where all the figures overlap. We’ll see how it looks!
Thought of something, why not emboss really soft meaty paper on an uninked block. Then, with the engraved lines in relief, ink the paper! Probably take a few tries before I get it right, but it’s worth a try. Something new anyway.
Have so many images in mind that I’m going looney. Don’t go looney.
I’m tired today, but I got a lot done and I’m ready to print tomorrow. I entered a few more competitions, have about 7 out there I think. We shall see what happens. It’s possible last year was beginners luck. Or maybe I was right when I told Jim that I would probably never make anything like the railroad drawing again. Maybe.
Keep doing stuff, something will come up.
Wish Art Encounter would sell something to make me feel like they are legit. They seem to do well with paintings. I just don’t want to paint right now.
Do your sculpted man next, how bout that?

Friday, January 21st, 2000

Two rejections today; still feels like doodoo to get them, although I know it’s the different judging and also a matter of time. Gottakeepatit. Don’t get down.
Outsider is dry. I’ve been working on the cover for WEN and it looks darned good if I may say so myself. I’m getting better at those engravings. Still a ways to go.
Waiting for paper for my Junin Toiro exchange print. Had a difficult time with the background, but I think it will be okay. Maybe I shoulda worked it out first in a drawing? Hee, hee.
Also working on another Junin Toiro type of print, but too big for the exchange, maybe I can send it to Gregory and put it in the show anyway. I like the style.
Started carving on plank maple, seemed like a suitable wood. Found it more suitable for woodcuts than the birch plywood. Doesn’t splinter or dry out. We’ll see how it prints, but Rembrandt has it for sale for woodcuts in lieu of cherry. So hard to get cherrywood. Need to try to join some of the pieces I already have.
Also need to work out some of the postcard type prints for the gift shop in the Arboretum of the Plains in Kansas. So much to do!
I’m going to enter some of these outdoor shows and see how that goes. Seems like when I’m out there I sell okay. Not so in Art Encounter Gallery, wonder why.
Going to try giving some workshops too. Going to try everything, got to.
Later.

Wednesday, January 12th, 2000

Finished the Outsider print. Looks clean and neat and overall pretty darn good. Now I’m getting a body of work, I think because it’s getting harder to decide what to send to these competitions. Alrighty then.

Monday, January 10th, 2000

How time flies when you are an artist...
Finished the first 20 prints of Renaissance, by hand. Hard work, it’s a 36x25 one color with a fade in of another color. Quite a good print, I think.
Halfway through the next vessel, called it The Outsider, wonder why? Hee hee.
Wonder if Art Encounter will ever sell anything. I usually sell stuff once I get out there. Wonder if I’m overpriced, underpriced...just too much too think about. Need to make more art. My coffers are now starting to look like a working artist’s. Much better.
That’s all. I worked harder today, will do so from now on. Probably about 9 hours in the studio. No computer time for website and such. Need to keep that up too, ya know.
Ma?ana!

Sunday, January 9th, 2000

We printed the Mobious, that’s the real name, with mixed results. I know Daryl was disappointed with the first few prints. Me, not so much. I’m more used to the hand prints and how they come off a wee bit more “varied” than press prints. Of course, now it’s a different story because I too will be a press person.
Finished the first state of the Outsider, another vessel print. Tomorrow will attack the rest of Renaissance and carved the second state. Now I’m cookin’. I need to build a body of work rather quickly if I am going to present myself in any kind of light to galleries.
Looking for my first solo, what the hell, why not. I know it takes some people a few more years, maybe it will me too, but those facts won’t keep me from trying.
Have more ideas. I want to print figures in the new “woodcutty” style that I started with Garden Gifts. I overload the ink and the edges curl up over themselves giving the whole thing an impasto and very block-like look. Like mom said, looks like the original block (but in color). Some male figures will look pretty good this way, with facet-like musculature. Can’t wait!
Also working on the WEN cover, want to do something special for them. And the Exchange #5 prints for Baren. Now I’m cooking. Better keep cooking. I’m tired and it feels so good. Just want to get to my next piece.
I also want to find a balance between the blasted entering competitions and doing art. Don’t have a routine set yet. Someday, I will just work in the studio. You think?
Oh, I did finish printing the engraving I scraped on while I was in Kansas for vay-cay. I’m getting a wee bit better at this engraving thing. I tried the magnifying lamp and this makes a big difference in the cut precision. Peachy.
Humbly hungry.

 

2,000!!! Saturday, January 1st, 2000

An uneventful New Year’s celebration. Here is the promised entry and I didn’t have to make up any news.
Daryl and I carved and carved and finished the Mobious, as he likes to call it. Finished carving, that is, now the printing is all that’s left to do. And print we shall on Tuesday, January 4th. I cannot wait. I also proofed an engraving which would look truly awesome in tan paper, we will see if OfficeMax has the correct shade or will print in a cream color. Black ink, of course. And press, of course.
New Year, New Art. More art, much art, much good art.
Let there be art!!!

Friday, December 31st, 1999

Had to make an entry on the last of the year, didn’t I? Big plans for next year: make art. I need to make good art and quit worrying about money, entries, themes, etcetera. I can make good art, I have done it before and I think I’m finally getting to where I can make it again. Ideas are flowing, studio is perfect, who needs anything else. Make art, make good art, make great art someday. Here are some quotes courtesy of my friends from Baren:

" Let us as artists, then, feel that we have trust. Let us be sincere, if
for no other reason than to give our craft character. Let us choose to
reproduce  beauty rather than the sordid, if only to elevate the standards
of beauty. If we seek an audience to our way of expression, let us make the
things we have to say worth while. When we have a choice, let us build, not
tear down. If we are endowed with the vision to encompass beauty, let us be
grateful, but not selfish about it. To live and work only to please one's
self, using art as a means of display for uncontrolled temperment and
undiciplined license, for devorcing oneself from the normal and ethical
standards of life, to my mind is wrong. Art belongs to life, and essentially
to the common, everyday man.
Art is essentally giving. Ability of high order is rare. The successful may
well rejoice that they few, among the many, have been given the eyes that
see, the hand to set down, the perception to grasp, and the heart to
understand the big truth. What we take in we can strive to give back in
greater perfection. It seems to me that this would not be possible without
patience, humility, and respect for life and mankind."

A. Loomis

"All the things have not been done in art that can and will be done.  I don't
think our bones and muscles will change much and that light will shine
differently, so all the good rules will still hold.  I can only say that you
must have the courage of your convictions, believing that your way is right for
you and for your time.  Your individuality will always be your precious right
and must be treasured.  Take from the rest of us all that you can assimilate,
that can become a part of you, but never still the small voice that whispers to
you, 'I like it better my way.'"

Awesome, huh? I will leave more detailed plans for the year for tomorrow’s entry (have got to make a first of the millennium entry!).
Until then.

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