encaustic workshop

In today's encaustic workshop, participants were interested in learning how to work in a somewhat representational style. Below are two works that started as oil and cold wax under-paintings, and then were built up with layers of molten wax and pigment.

 winter 5, encaustic on panel 14x20in, 2013

In this  advanced class, participants also explored shellac burn techniques as well as warmed drawing, monotype and mixed media.

 winter 6, encaustic etc on panel, 9x12in, 2013

As usual, I was so engaged with my students that I forgot to take pictures in-situ. I emailed them and they promise to pass on their finished paintings so I can share them as they made some really exciting work. 

I will be posting dates for March and April encaustic studio workshops soon. For info please visit my website or contact me.

a landscape as it was before

There is nothing in which the birds differ more from man than the way in which they can build and yet leave a landscape as it was before.

Robert Lynd (1879 - 1949), The Blue Lion and Other Essays

For those who follow my posts, you have probably noticed the recent succession of encaustic works. 

 That is partly because I have been conducting  encaustic workshops here at the studio, and the class participants always inspire me. Most of the works shown in the past few months, started as demos

 However I think it will be the last you will be seeing of my starling friend for awhile. 

The image featured was created on another piece of wood weathered from the seasons here on the Niagara escarpment.
 

 I enjoy sealing the worn wood with beeswax, letting the molten liquid pool into the porous crevices to protect it forever. 

 And I just couldn't resist the uneven asymmetrical quirkiness of this panel

beautiful vagabond, encaustic etc on found panel, 7x50in, 2013

beautiful vagabonds

The very idea of a bird is a symbol and a suggestion to the poet. A bird seems to be at the top of the scale, so vehement and intense his life. . . . The beautiful vagabonds, endowed with every grace, masters of all climes, and knowing no bounds -- how many human aspirations are realized in their free, holiday-lives -- and how many suggestions to the poet in their flight and song!  

John Burroughs (1837 - 1921), Birds and Poets, 1887

 Starlings in Winter, encaustic etc on panels, 12x10in, 2013, available

further a field

  

In a field

I am the absence

of field.

This is

always the case.

Wherever I am

I am what is missing.

When I walk

I part the air

and always

the air moves in   

to fill the spaces

where my body’s been.

We all have reasons

for moving.

I move

to keep things whole.

Mark Strand

 Keeping Things Whole

Further a Field, encaustic on canvas, 11x14in, 2013, available

phantom fading

Since we have learned how beauty comes and goes:
A phantom fading from the hills like light,
Summer and slow disaster in the rose,
An April face that wanders toward the night,--
It is not strange that we who linger here,
Are haunted by the colours of the sky,
The ghost of beauty in the stricken year,
The thought of beauty gone too swiftly by.

So that men strive with chisel, pen and brush,
To save the lifted brow, the transient spring,
Happy if they may fix the fading blush,
Or make the mood a memorable thing,
And snare one glowing hour from fleeting time,
A golden bird, caged in a golden rhyme.

David Morton: Salvage

Salvage, encaustic etc on found panel, 10x14in, 2013, available

kindred spirit

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

Mary Oliver. The Journey

Salvage 1, encaustic etc on found panel, 7x7x2in, 2013, available

White-Eyes

 In winter

all the singing is in

the tops of the trees

where the wind-bird

with its white eyes

shoves and pushes

among the branches

Like any of us

he wants to go to sleep

but he's restless

he has an idea,

and slowly it unfolds

from under his beating wings

as long as he stays awake

But his big, round music, after all,

is too breathy to last.

So, it's over.
    

In the pine-crown

he makes his nest,

he's done all he can.

I don't know the name of this bird,

I only imagine his glittering beak

tucked in a white wing

while the clouds—

which he has summoned

from the north—

which he has taught

to be mild, and silent—

thicken, and begin to fall

into the world below

like stars, or the feather

of some unimaginable bird

that loves us,
 

that is asleep now, and silent—

that has turned itself

into snow.

Mary Oliver

 Winter 5, encaustic etc on found panel,  6x14in, 2013

 found panel

save

sal·vage 

n.

a. The act of saving imperiled property from loss.

b. The property so saved.

3. Something saved from destruction or waste and put to further use.

tr.v. sal·vaged, sal·vag·ing, sal·vag·es

1. To save from loss or destruction.

2. To save (discarded or damaged material) for further use

Winter 3, encaustic etc on panels, 10x109n, 2013, available

As mentioned in a previous post, I am deconstructing in order to reconstruct and have made a conscious effort in my art-making to incorporate only what I HAVE and only what is around me . I will not purchase new canvas, tools or panels -the latter of which I will paint over and use in new ways. And although I require paint and wax, the challenge is to stretch their use as  far as possible.

 In the above image, the top portion was made in 2008. 

The lower panel consists of another early painting, but I have layered it with a beautifully aged oxide roof shingle from a dilapidated shed that I see, walk by and take refuge in when painting in rain and snow. 

The wee building has been vacant and weather worn for 30 odd years but was originally built for the farm workers to store fruit picked from the orchards. 

 The wire used to embellish the image is aged as well. At one time it was used to anchor the vineyard posts and organize the vines.

The vineyards have long since been torn out and the velvety looking wire now sits piled  in the back field, overgrown with vine.

I find the linear quality of vine and wire to be irresistible and it is relatively easy to manipulate. Portals are appearing in the field.

on winter’s margin

On winter’s margin, see the small birds now
With half-forged memories come flocking home
To gardens famous for their charity.
The green globe’s broken; vines like tangled veins
Hang at the entrance to the silent wood.

With half a loaf, I am the prince of crumbs;
By snow’s down, the birds amassed will sing
Like children for their sire to walk abroad!
But what I love, is the gray stubborn hawk
Who floats alone beyond the frozen vines;
And what I dream of are the patient deer
Who stand on legs like reeds and drink that wind; -

They are what saves the world: who choose to grow
Thin to a starting point beyond this squalor.

Mary Oliver

 Winter 2, encaustic etc on panel, 6x12in, 2013, available

Lines For Winter

Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself --
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon's gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.

Mark Strand

Winter 1, encaustic on panel, 6x10in, 2013, available

the more things change

 detail, January, departure, encaustic collage on found panel, 2013

I have been re visiting earlier work with the intention of deconstructing and reconstructing with new ideas and approaches. I like to do this every few years. After all, inspiration and interpretation are subject to change. Or are they?

This image was made in 2013

January, departure, encaustic collage on found panel, 9x10in,  2013

The below image was made in 2004

Escarpment winter & December moon

We had our first 'official' snowfall here in Niagara, On, yesterday and this is my first official response to the winter season on the escarpment.

  December (departure), plein air, oil and cold wax on canvas, 11x14in, 2012, available

I never seem to exhaust this subject, nor do I want to. I know each tree so well as they are in front of my studio. I have painted them many times through the years and they continue to lead me on. 


This was rendered with lots of cold wax and knife work.

On another note, did anyone get a chance to see the last full moon of the year ?

December, full cold moon, encaustic on panel, from almanac moon series, 2012

sun standing still

Every solstice I am compelled to create in response to the ‘sun standing still’. After wandering my beloved field yesterday, I worked on the painting below, well into the night-the longest night of the year.

December,  Solstice, oil / cold wax on canvas, 18x24in, 2012, available

So the shortest day came, and the year died,
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive,
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, reveling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us - Listen!!
All the long echoes sing the same delight,
This shortest day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, fest, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.
Welcome Yule!!                                                                                   
The Shortest Day by Susan Cooper

solstice, sunlight

Happy Solstice


'The returning sunlight is invited in with many symbols: Trees and evergreens, a variety of fires, candles, logs; and always singing and dancing. All the Winter Solstice symbols are a reminder that the sun is eternal, the cycle is renewing, and so are you. The sun is a symbol of our interconnectedness. It shines equally on all, and mother nature supports all equally. It is a time of finding unity.
Life on earth continually changes, yet the sun endures. It is the source of light and life. Cultures change and traditions come and go, and symbols are in or out of favour. The return of the light on Winter Solstice underlies all traditions of this season.'
http://www.quick-good-fortune.com/Winter-Solstice-Magic-Traditions.html

 December,  oil / aluminum on canvas, 48x48in, 2012

being brave

detail: the more things change

When I was in Ireland the message below was taped to the studio wall along with the dried rose. The two words resonated so much that when I returned, I wrote them, with charcoal, on my own studio wall

When I am pushing ahead and feeling doubt, they reassure me, and I am not afraid; in fact, I welcome the journeys that are mapped from failure.

The more things change, encaustic and vine on canvas, 16x20in, 2012

transition

Time is so elusive these days...

I did manage to get out for a quick plein air fix

December, remains of the Day, Niagara Escarpment, plein air, oil on canvas, 11x14in, 2012, available

This is worked on top of another failed painting-I enjoy pulling the paint over hardened,  slick texture. I like the resist, and being visceral in approaching some passages.

This past month, I have been transitioning my studio time. I hate these short winter days and we have had so many grey ones here that I can't work as I'd like-even indoors as the natural light in my studio is too dark. So I have been working on some other projects under artificial light and into the night-nothing to show yet but I'm enjoying the different 'head space' I have at this time of day. My right brain is willing to oblige and seems to be more in sync and open to possibilities- at least so far-fingers crossedxxx

encaustic etc

 Gold Leaf with Wild Asters, Niagara Escarpment

 oil, gold leaf and encaustic on canvas

 24x48in, 2012

protectors of nature

Below is another image inspired by my experience in Ireland.
Epona and Macha are Celtic horse Goddesses who watch over the land, protecting its abundance and insuring a good harvest. As protectors of nature, they grant sovereignty over the land and are the goddesses of the stable, protecting all who work with horses. They guide and protect.

Embedded deeper into the wax is the Inverurie Horses" symbol-a design created by George Bain, inspired by a Pictish image of a horse he found carved into a stone in Inverurie, Scotland. It too is thought to represent the three "Great Horse" goddesses of Celtic mythology: "Epona" (Gaulish), "Macha" (Irish), and "Rhiannon" Welsh. 

voyager 2, encaustic on panel, 8x12in, 2012, available

Spirals represent the journey of soul from the sacred vortex uncoiling outward to fill the universe, then returning to the balanced center. Spirals are a natural pattern found in wind and water currents, trees, shells, and seeds and express the unfolding of the earth’s energies and the expansion of the universe.

 

Throughout the layering process I intermittently added powdered aluminum pigment and although the digital image does not show, light moves continuously through the work.

Happy December

How did it get so late so soon?

It's night before it's afternoon

December is here before it's June

My Goodness how the time has flewn

How did it get so late so soon?

 Dr. Seuss

December, Niagara Escarpment, encaustic on box, 11x4x4in, 2011/12