Pencil, 80lb Paper, Janice Cartier, September 2010

Color Pencil, 80lb Paper, Janice Cartier, September 2010

Rain bands from Hermine are kicking up outdoors, heavy puddle splashing drops are what I hear. And waves of wind, gentle ( from my perspective) but enough to still be a tropical storm. It’s the bands. The rhythm and the time of year.
Kind of cozy. And more familiar. Actually soothing to my bones. A cradle rocking.

I have something for such a rainy day. These color blocks are coming out to play. The light is dark outside. The clouds are dense.

So I am going to play indoors.

Make these a little bigger.

And bring…

my empty vacant mind…

to the steady rhythms that I hear…

And the tones and colors in the boxes,

As I see if they will scale.

I think it sounds like a lovely way to spend…

And indoor cozy day.

Unleashing

Color bands and rhythms of my own.

Yes,

The artist  smiles..

And listens.

Very important to listen

In private studio

To what your muse is saying.

How ’s your Wednesday going?

Sennelier Pastels, Janice Cartier, September 2010

Silly me, all I wanted was a satisfactory translation of  these words: “pastel a l’ecu”. Well, that and more OF them. Lots more of them. So I went searching. I thought knowing about the name would explain the attraction.

My thirst remains unquenched. Ecu is an ancient French coin… it’s also a shield. So I think we are in idiom city here. But I can say this one thing for sure, I only want them more. I love these pastels. Amazingly, tenderly soft…but boy they pack some power.

I am inexplicably drawn, almost obsessed… I want to feel them  in my hand, moving across a sumptuous paper.

I had a small taste with my color blocks.

And something happened.

The box of “pastel a l’ecu” that I have, became  a Trojan horse…

I remembered a long burning love affair with all things Sennelier and why I love them dearly.

No, not a surprise there..

Just…a craving denied for these and oil crayons as well…and sure  more paper too.

As much as I love paint, and I do…

I want to roll around with color on a stick and make blazing, whispering

Marks of color…

Color as texture.

It was a small idea last spring.

I fanned the flames a bit.

Sheesh.

And now…I am entranced with the color, softness…sheer timelessness of these beautiful breaths of pigment, gathered from exotic places and hand fashioned in Paris.

Well…there’s nothing for it but to give in..

I told you this about the thing with time to order …

And how it’s a crazy mad passion that can pull us in further…

I give up…I surrender…

I’m having them.

Phew…that’s better… Decision made.

Now Naughty Beverages, right? Meet me there. And someone, hide the catalogs please.

The artist smiles.

And listens again…ahh

And no, no one paid me…or offered me gifts…I’m just admitting, I am crazy mad for these. Tell me you don’t have at least one mad obsession for some of your materials…or several…

It’s like this in Private Studio.

.

Oil Pigments, Brush and Rags, Janice Cartier, September 2010

I’m out of medium. Right in the middle of squishy paint.  No problem, except my favorite medium comes from the art store in Santa Fe. Sure I can order it. Or I could find something else here…or online..but you know what that means don’t you?

Yep, getting sucked into the art supply vortex…don’t make me open a catalog or look at the offerings on line , or , gasp… actually walk into the store…

You might not see me for a while.

Unless I put blinders on,

Or think one thing, just one thing,

Or someone attaches a rope around my waist to pull me out,

It could take awhile..

Because honestly, if the door to Cartier’s and the door to Sennelier’s were right next to each other…I would be lost forever…or at least a week…and don’t get me started on paper. They all have the power to  do it…

Deep breath…

I just need more medium.

That stuff that makes the paint flow like butter, or dry matte like a lovely candle wax, or wash just like water…dry quicker or slower, but I think I might need some more white, and some sepia…and maybe some…violet… and some pastel paper…and how is my Rhodia Pad supply? or a new Moleskine would be nice…

See?

Somebody go get the rope…

And reel me in.

I love the stuff of my work…pencils and paper and paints and oooh.. did you see this… or what can I do with that…that’s what happens when I go in in person…and no catalog on line or at my desk is opened and shut  without something or many things catching my eye…

Sigh…

And another breath..

I just need to get more medium…

Chin up, shoulders back…

Go quickly…

Like sirens I tell you…

Calling me to the rocks…

What’s your mad passion with the stuff of your work? Does it get to you?

Pencil, Rhodia Pad Paper, Janice Cartier, August 2010

Nuance is an important part of a sketch. Gentle whispers are as important as a roar. And nuance in notes made, and thoughts captured, are things that series and stories ride upon.

This is a simple sheet in a small pad, but the lines and words are touchstones that hold me in thrall.

These are the origins in original art.

And for the life of me, I am absolutely goose bumped and giddy when I see this kind of  ”ephemera” if it is ever exhibited with the formal works of art made by an artist. It’s a primary document. And primal in its nature.

Because this is the art at its heart.

The minute an idea about what could be is given space.

There’s an elemental elegance to it.

The fineness of pure…

spirit unfettered.

What follows then,

Is effort.

Imperfect human effort

To make it not only take flight, but to soar.

Or swim,

Or just come to life.

To give it form.

I spent some time reviewing some of these  yesterday instead of sketching new ones.

I stopped myself in my own tracks.

That’s the thing about knowing your why.

Knowing your why you do what you do…

Finding those whispers that fairly shout that this is the beauty you want to share

this is that moment of sheer breathlessness that holds you when you see it..

Knowing the why

Is what sustains you in those clumsy human efforts

At flight…

Or swimming..

Or even writing.

There’s a thing at the heart of it.

The rest..

Is  best efforts to get to it.

That good thing that we all are after.

It’s Organizing Monday and I am after remembering the origins in original art and why I do it. I am thinking, it will make my efforts, if not less clumsy, at least a little more sure. And that makes me smile and think upon the beauty of it all.

How’s your Monday going?

Watercolor, Handmade Paper, Janice Cartier, August 2010

I woke this morning feeling the quiet . The same quiet as before the storm. A preternatural quiet. The light changes, the air feels different. The birds get quiet.

If there is any doubt in anyone’s mind that the body stores your memories, I can vouchsafe that it does.

Incredibly, I felt it the minute my eyes opened…sacred ground…you’re tramping on sacred ground again…I tend to get quiet. The images play before me. The tears come easily.

I’m torn.

Wanting to be in two places, no three at once. There, here, and where I will be.

The only thing I’ve found for that, is to just be present.

Just show up. And be wherever I am as I am.

And today I am quiet.

Last year I wrote  about color and how it seemed to be quiet for the day.

Today and this weekend… I just want to listen as birds sing.

They were first back out after the storm subsided…and the broken trees offered up fragrant sap…as we climbed over them..

I like to balance the grief with that.

And yes, I think we’ll need a Naughty Beverage, a toast to friends who surround us and one to my dear and much loved ghosts…

Oils, Gessoed Canvas, Janice Cartier, August 2010

Layers. These are the earliest  tints of color that will go under several more. Like weathered clapboard walls  and one doorway  on St. Mary and Sophie Wright Place, across from the Half Moon Bar. I’ve never wanted that building painted. It is a work of art.

I seem to want patinated, tempered paint, as much as I want brand new. I want the paint to become, not just arrive ready made.

And I am keeping those raw edges.

This is cotton, not the usual fine linen that I prefer. So the surface is a little rougher. The gesso is light so the paint catches, and clings. Not smooth at all, unless the brush is totally saturated. I prefer gliding with brush and buttery paint. But this, this is presenting itself, insisting. And my hands are saying, okay. We’ll do it that way..

for now.

Let’s just see what you have to show me.

What lesson you want me to learn.

Before I have my way.

Hm…coarseness to refined?

Like an idea, finely honed…

We’ll just let you lead,

for now.

In all your roughness and your  heavy weave.

But look out

I have some tickles and some buttery strokes that are appearing in my mind

and I will have them before we’re done.

Not sure who’s the boss today,

But who cares?

Choosing form, or form choosing you?

Either way, it’s a possible win.

How’s your Wednesday going?

Derwent Sketch Pencils. Water, 80lb Paper

This is squishy.  Even though it is dry as a bone, it still says squishy. Like tracks left , a fossil footprint or an insect captured in amber. Evidence of a moment preserved in time.

I like squishy.

Not feeling it this morning though. Not yet.

I did not draw yesterday. None of those random, mind free sketches that I normally do. I blame The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and the stacks of notes on my desk that I put into their respective places to be transferred in time to some consumable form.

And that not drawing, even those bits of “something or nothing”, makes a difference.

Like a missed workout, or breakfast.

We can get by fine once in awhile, but meh…

Something’s not quite right.

Not feeling the squish this morning.

Now, what to do?

Do I take some time this morning after the tea kicks in and sketch?

Do I just go on as if some silly little sketches don’t matter?

Or should I read just one more chapter of that Swedish book?

Or perhaps clean up some of those notes?

What do we do when we are not exactly feeling it?

Hm.

Sip.

What to do…?

What kind of name is Blomkvist anyway? Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue does it? He’s just about to get out of prison.

Eyes black book full of notes to be input. One of many such books.

And that stack of semi-dry canvas ready for next layer of paint.

Sip.

It’s Organizing Monday and this is one of those days when I think 105F daily has finely caught up with me. There is a definite lack of squish.

I think we have a dog day of summer  going on…

Clearly antidotes are needed.

Sigh.

There’s always that number one rule….

Show up?

Do one thing?

Then another?

Yes, that one.

Well, there is that.

Hmph.

I wonder if I strapped on metaphorical snow shoes and took a Swedish name for the day…would that transport me into the zone.. is it this easy to lose momentum? One missed sketch session and  the heat?

What do you do when you are not exactly feeling it?

Canvas, Gesso, New York Times, Janice Cartier, August 2010

“Monsters”. Right there. You can read it for yourself. Right next to the fresh blank canvas and the splats of gesso on the newsprint. Which again in the play that is random, cracks me up.

I rarely see blank canvas or blank pages as monsters, but I thought this was funny… in that universal karmic sense of funny.

Because there is a moment of possible freaking our own selves out when we look at a stack of blank materials. That moment just before…

the next one when excitement takes over.

If you ever get caught in that too much thinking about results moment,

Those blank stacks can become just that.

Monsters.

Hesitation monsters.

The artist smiles.

Got an easy antidote for that.

They are called  first marks.

And we’ll be making them without much thought at all.

And choosing color purely on a whim..

And on all pre-painting I have done,

My color blocks

Like pliés at the bar

Are all the thinking that I need.

Hand me a brush,

Squishy paint trumps monsters any day.

The games begin.

Going to get messy

The artist says with a smile.

See you at five for about a gazillion Naughty Margaritas, yes?

Canvas, Gesso, New York Times, Janice Cartier, August 2010

Maybe it’s just me, but I love this accidental composition of high fashion and menial studio work. Applying gesso to canvas is a pretty mundane studio task. Although,  it squishes just fine and is rather zen to do. I enjoy it.

But I am enjoying this unexpected juxtaposition even more.  Random enters the studio as a friend again, when the newspaper I put under this little piece happens to be a rather chi-chi ad for Bergdorf-Goodman in black and white. Well greys actually.

And I can’t stop looking at it and thinking ..hm…there’s an assemblage there and surely something I can make of it. Something about intentional and unintentional design.

I can’t help but see more blocks and other textures in a continuance of some  thought that I really don’t have words for yet, just images.

So we will set this one aside.

Leave it apart from the stack of  gesso primed small canvases that will become ground for squishy paint.

But..hm...gesso squares and ink…

Yes, there’s squishiness to be had there too I think.

And so it goes in small tasks and menial matters..

In full frame, the model stares and big bold black letters exclaim the name of the store. They almost demand a response in black and white and greys.

Who am I to deny them?

Surprise,

Discovery,

If you’re open to it.

Sometimes I just listen.

And look.

At where the squishiness leads.

Mistake? Could be.

But we’ll do it,

Then we’ll know.

How’s your Wednesday shaping up?

Pencil, 80lb Paper, Janice Cartier, August 2010

So Sunday afternoon sketching netted some surprising captures. Freely sketching with an empty mind, shapes and shadings came out in an  uninterrupted flow. They also came with unexpected titles: ” Ghosts and remnants deep inside”, “our shadow selves want squishy paint” ( which is my personal favorite), “siren song at night”, “sounds”, “whispers and lovers”, “gently, softly on the edge,”( another favorite)  and on and on like that.

The sketches look like nothing.

And a whole lot of something.

Some of them are pretty insistent.

Ideas of paint, and swoosh and squiggle followed quickly on their tails.

One begs for assemblage.

Another asks how softly can you paint power?

Another asks me to explore a night scape as if asea among unfamiliar markers. Moonlit and welcoming though, as if all time has waited just for me to be just there.

And one is fairly empty, yet replete.

Sigh.

Scribbles on a page.

Worlds and worlds to paint.

Captured.

Emptying out is as important as taking in.

It’s like finding

Pathways…

Very close to heart.

It’s Organizing Monday and once again…my hands seem to be in charge. We’ll just let them lead by doing as they please. Sometimes it’s like that in Private Studio. We just get out of the way  and listen.

How’s your Monday going?