You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ category.
Painter's travel kit
I haven’t been posting much lately, because I’ve been painting! Painting and traveling.
We took a trip to Chicago in the spring. Despite the Chicagoan’s fanstasies that the weather was springlike, it was a bitterly cold city. (Where I’m from, we complain when we have to put socks on in the winter. Any temperature under 59 degrees F., and I’m done.)
It was also a city where, I was advised, we wouldn’t need a car, since the public transportation is epically transportational.
What? No car? I’m a person who chooses automobiles based on the amount of nooks and crannies on the passenger side. When I travel, I need a rolling art studio. I paint while my husband drives.
The best car I ever used was a Dodge van we rented for a camping trip. Cubbies in the door held paintbrushes, pencils, and pens at the ready; 4 drink holders between the front seats kept steady two cups of water and two cups of coffee; the deep, wide dashboard displayed paintings that were not yet dry; and the open door of the glove box made the perfect mobile easel.
You can imagine how much stuff I brought on that (or any) camping trip. Several sketchbooks, a folder of watercolor paper, a couple of Arches watercolor blocks, and a lined notebook. I even brought the laptop and Wacom tablet.
But in Chicago, traveling by bus and subway, I had to pare down. Way down.
Homemade travel journal
What you see in the photo above is what I came up with.
I’m not a book binder, so I couldn’t stitch together anything fancy; instead I cut to size a variety of papers: Strathmore drawing paper, BFK Rives printing paper (tan colored), and Arches 300-lb cold and hot press papers.
Then I got the local copy shop to drill holes in the paper. They couldn’t—or wouldn’t—move the bits on their drill, so I was lucky my notebook fit in the 8.5-inch slot on the paper-drilling machine.
They wouldn’t drill the covers. They said, what the h*ll is this stuff? It was merely illustration board covered with acrylic gesso, but I guess it looked like some strange building material to them. I had to drill those with my trusty hand drill (it used to belong to my grandfather. It’s probably 60 years old, and still works like a champ.)
The paper was all held together with binder rings.
It was perfect for the trip. I could paint or draw on whatever type paper I wanted that day. I didn’t have to work sequentially, because at the end of the day I could reorder the paper as I liked. And to reduce weight (and protect the already painted pages), I would only bring part of the journal each day as I shivered my way around Chicago.
Red Cat in the Window
Digital © 2011 Margaret Sloan
I’ve been absent from this blog for while. I’ve been taking classes and working, not just at the day job, but at the easel, painting and coloring in the early mornings before work, in the evenings when I can, and on weekends. I’ve been on a tear-I love that feeling of something burning brightly in my brain as I work.
This early morning work makes it a little hard to drag my brain out of colorlandia when it’s time to go out to fight the commuter traffic, but it makes my day sweeter to have used my morning creative-energy spurt for my own work.
The above cat is just a small digital piece (done in Adobe Illustrator) for a color theory class I. The assignment was to create the illusion of transparency using color. The colors in this piece are all made by mixing ratios of cmyk (for those who aren’t printing geeks, that means a mixture of four colors: cyan, magenta, yellow, and black). I did not use the transparency feature in Illustrator.
It was fascinating to learn how the desaturated colors could create the illusion of transparency. I’m not sure when I’ll use this technique in my own art (perhaps another Halloween series of ghostly hitchhikers?), but I was still entranced.
I grew up in a time when the arts were richly supported by our school systems, and frankly, on some days my art classes were the only reason I went to high school at all. And I thank the Universe every single day of my life for those early exposures to art and music.
But arts programs these days? Not so much. Arts programs in schools have really suffered, and have left private and semi-private organizations to try to fill the gap. But many are struggling to provide services badly needed by kids who just can’t afford them.
Last week I received an email from the Teen Celtic Music Camp in Santa Cruz.
As many of you know, every year we hold a teen Celtic music camp up in
Boulder Creek, CA. All info here:
http://www.communitymusicschool.org/teen_camp/
This will be our 11th year, and it is totally fun and awesome. We
have lots of testimonials!
Many students want to go, and we try to make it as inexpensive as
possible. We are the cheapest music camp around, but still it’s hard
for lots of folks who are just scraping by. The camp we rent has in
the past charged us $125 per student, but just upped it to $165 per
student for the room and board. We are happy to give many
scholarships in-kind and for trade, and our teachers are patient with
large classes, but we need real money for the boarding expense.
So we have asked that, if you feel so moved, you might go to the
website above and click our sponsor a camper button, which will take
you to PayPal where you can enter an amount to support a teen camper
at this year’s overnight Celtic music camp. You can also of course
send a check to Community Music School, P. O. Box 531, Santa Cruz, CA
95061
This camp does great things. Some former campers have gone on to be amazing musicians, and all have learned a language that they can speak with other musicians for the rest of their lives. And it’s keeping the music alive in the hearts of the young. And I hope that it’s giving kids a place where it’s safe to be their own artistic, creative selves.
I don’t donate to many causes, but I intend to donate to this one.
Readers, is there a camp or program in your area that needs some assistance, financial or otherwise? I hope you’ll think about giving what you are able to give.
Lee by Margaret Sloan Watercolor on paper
I’ve been tremendously busy for the last few weeks; that’s why I’ve not posted. Yes! I’ve been painting. I’m working on a portrait right now of a friend, and I’m working much more slowly (even more slowly than usual!) as I try to nail down the design and the colors. But it’s been absorbing me to the point that I don’t do much else (except the day job, of course).
Here’s a painting of a friend of mine. I made this last month. Took me four tries to get what I wanted. She’s a dancer, but was taking a break and listening intently to the music.
Photo by Joanna Ebenstein
As the Christmas season winds to a close, I’m feeling a little sad as my long awaited Christmas visitors prepare to fly back to their homes, and I return to the daily routine.
It seemed fitting this morning, while surfing the internet, to find—through Lisa Falzon’s lovely blog—the site Anatomical Theatre. The photos by Joanna Ebenstein are of anatomical models made from wax and wood. To be honest, there are a few specimens that look like preserved human remains too. So if these kinds of things bother you, please don’t follow the link.
Lisa says in her blog:
Sad things are beautiful, and beautiful things are sad.
I find that is often true, and no more true at this time of year when winter, although still upon us, is dying a green death as the California grasses push their way into spring.
I’m dragging this morning, because I had to stay up (wa-a-ay) past my bedtime to watch the lunar eclipse. It was the first eclipse on the solstice in nearly 400 years, and that’s got to be portentous.
I didn’t think we’d be able to see it through the storm that’s been drenching the Bay Area. But at 11 the storm abated, and the clouds thinned. The moon flitted like a shy bird behind the blue-white skeins of stratus.
We sat in the backyard with the damp wind tugging at our hair, and watched the bright silver disk get eaten by the shadow of the earth. She turned dusky orange as scraps of clouds blew across her face. Wintery Orion and Gemini, growing more brilliant as the moon dulled, stood sentinel around her, Orion with his head towards her, and the twins, Castor and Pollux, facing away. She seemed well guarded in her moment of weakness.
A plane flew between the moon and a cloud, and the jet’s shadow was projected across the scrim of cloud, looking like a giant child’s toy.
Then the storm returned, and clouds hid the moon’s face as she regained her silvery self. Tonight she’ll rise at about 5:30, unencumbered by our shadow.
Happy Solstice.
Roz Stendahl sent me a Daniel Smith Watercolor Sample Card as part of her Silent Give-Away. I’m pretty set in my ways when it comes to paint. I like ultramarine blue and a couple other blues, sap green and viridian, a few cads, a nice transparent yellow, and alizarin crimson. But I do like to experiment, so I spent half a Saturday smearing around the little dots of sample colors.
The card is divided into three types of colors: Primateks, quinacridones, and cadmiums, and luminescent colors. (You can see the card on Roz’s blog.
Here’s how they wash out:
I’ve tried to use Primateks before, and haven’t had much luck with them, but I did enjoy some of the colors on the dot sampler card.
Garnet Genuine, Green Apatite Genuine, Blue Apatite Genuine
Quinacridone Sienna, Piemontite Genuine, Hematite Violet Genuine
Jadeite Genuine, Mayan Blue Genuine, Cadmium Yellow Deep Hue
My feeling about Primateks is that it’s better to work with them straight from the tube, as I find they don’t re-wet well. After working with the colors on the card, I think I’ll drag out the tubes I once bought (and then resigned to the bottom of the paint drawer), and try them again.
The luminescent colors have always intrigued me, but I’m sorry to say that I never thought I’d have much use for them. My paintings aren’t usually sparkly. Still, they were fun to play with.
It’s hard to see exactly what effect these paints have when you see them on a blog, but if you look closely at the picture below, you can see that they’ve made the otherwise dull (and not in a bad way) under paint have a glittery sheen.
Luminescent colors over Primatek colors
To see how another artist uses Daniel Smith’s sparkly watercolors, you might want to read Hilary Page’s post on Interference watercolors.
I’d also recommend the article, flesh tones from natural earth pigment watercolors.
- Barn owl
Pastel sketch by M. Sloan
It was late. Downtown. And a pale shadow soared silently overhead.
It was only the flash of unfurled white wings that caught our attention. We looked up just in time to see an owl landing on a parapet of city hall.
We heard small papery cries. Then, in another flash, the owl sped away. After a bit, two small faces looked down at us, as curious about us as we were about them.
They were baby barn owls, probably the most human looking of all birds. Right then and there I fell in love with them.
Barn owls haven’t always been loved. People have believed (still believe!) all sorts of malicious things about owls: they’re harbingers of death, witches, and bad weather. Barn owls have screetchy voices that creep people out. They look like ghosts flying around in the dark. So we humans have hunted and persecuted them over the years. We build cities over their roaming grounds. Like other animals that aren’t human, they’ve been in decline.
But they eat prodigious amounts of rats and squirrels. They’re good critters to have around. (I don’t know about your town, but in ours, we could sure use some help with rodent control.)
And clearly, barn owls will live in a mixed suburban setting (we’ve got lots of trees, and open space and green belts flanking the megalopolis). But the birds need nesting places. I would love to put up an owl box in my garden.
Barn owls won’t steal your babies, your money, or your soul (I’m not so sure about chickens, though. Some say yes, some say no. Does anyone know for sure?). According to The Owl Pages, “the Inuit see the Owl as a source of guidance and help.” If you have to believe something about owls, believe this Inuit tale. And believe that barn owls are incredible creatures to see as they ghost their way through the night.
Other owl box sites:
Related Articles
- Why do we love owls so much? (guardian.co.uk)
Today a blog, Each Small Thing bubbled up to the WordPress front page, showing photos of the most beautiful white sand beaches in Louisiana. It’s titled, Get it While You Can. Meaning, of course, see the fairy sands of the oil-threatened Louisiana coast while you still can.
News reports this weekend indicate that there may be no more white sand beaches. I don’t know; I can’t bring myself to witness this spectacularly awful ecological disaster.
But oh, it makes me angry. Angry at BP for not taking greater care, angry at the government agencies meant to oversee safety who turned a blind eye to infractions, and angry at the government for allowing deep water drilling at all.
And then, in the midst of all this anger, I realize that some of it has to turn to myself. Because every time I get in my car to drive, every time I buy some plastic wrapped gewgaw or petrochemically soled shoe, I’m implicit in this disaster. I am the market for which the oil companies drill. I feed the demand.
This makes me sadder than sad. Because even though I try very hard not to over consume, I still have to buy stuff, still have to go to work. I am trapped by the world in which I live, condemned to condemn the planet to toxic spills, leaks, and explosions.
What a mess.
Painting and drawing and playing tunes are the things that make life real, They are what makes my life matter. These, and berry pie.
