I would like to include one of these two photographs in an upcoming November exhibit at State of the Art Gallery. Both of these trees were once part of a fence. I started by choosing the East Side Tree, but am having second thoughts. What do you think? Which tree is more interesting? Which tree says something to the viewer? Is there another question I should be asking?

Your thoughts are welcome. Thanks!

These musings are works that I created on my ipad to familiarize myself with the Apple Pencil. I recently acquired this tool and I find the potential very exciting. I used to try to draw on my ipad with my finger and was frustrated by the crudeness of my sketches. My previous works were created on a computer using a mouse, which also felt awkward. I am amazed by the precision of line that I can achieve with the Pencil, as well as the ability to stroke with flair. The App that I use is Procreate. It is easy to use, but has many of the powerful features of Photoshop, such as layers and masking, and the ability to select any color. And dozens of brushes and textures.
These three images, as well as the two previous images from my “Geology” series were created entirely on my ipad (while sitting on the porch watching the birds and squirrels in my garden).

Last spring along a field not too far from home, I discovered a tree that was once part of an old barbed wire fence. The discovery opened a new exploration in the woods along the edge of the field. The top photograph in today’s post shows the tree I first discovered. It gradually enclosed the wire as it grew, and later died. The second photograph shows this tree and its immediate neighbor along the old fence line. The second tree enclosed the wire entirely. It’s still growing.

My question for anyone is, if I had to choose one photograph to include in a collection, which would it be? Or should I include both as part of a narrative? Thoughts and comments are welcome.

This is one of my Suminagashi prints, somewhat edited in Photoshop to crop the image and slightly alter the color balance. While in creating a Suminagashi print you must leave quite a lot up to the laws of physics, it is possible to control your image to some extent, and I was able to do so at least a little in this one. But part of what I find intriguing and inspiring in creating Suminagashi prints is that those laws of physics (ink against water) always intrude their demands and make their own impact on the design!

For several reasons, I am usually working on more than one artwork at a time. For one thing, the cross stitched pieces take a lot of time. Once the design is complete, I will do the stitching in the evenings while listening to the TV or an audio book. Meanwhile back in the studio by day, I will be cutting wood for frames or lattice work, peeling bark off branches and roots, gluing, sanding, finishing, etc. Many of these steps require drying time in between, so it’s good to have two or three things in progress.

The two pieces in this post are from two different series, but the first led directly to the second. I was in search of a branch or root to use in “Orchid with Lattice I”. I found a grapevine root in my stash that had a long, awkward part jutting out. I cut it off and it worked perfectly. But then I noticed a lot of movement in the rest of the root (the larger element in “Root Dance II”). I sanded the bottom so it would stand on it’s own and left it on my workbench. Later, I found a second, smaller piece of grapevine that worked with the first. After some fussing and finishing, both were mounted on a piece of sample quartz countertop material and another piece was born! One thing can lead to another.

This is a quick sketch that I sat down to recently, when I was in a bit of the COVID doldrums and needed to do at least a little art to pull through. A few days before, on a hot, sticky evening, I had made deviled eggs for supper, and had admired the pleasing shape and shading of the sliced eggs before I filled them. So I boiled an egg, sliced it carefully and pried out half the yolk, and sat down on the porch to sketch. Using the white of the paper for most of the egg-whites felt right. A few bits of intense color from my Caran D’ache “Luminance” pencils were satisfying for the yolks.

When I had finished the sketch, I popped the separated half-yolk back in its half-egg, added a dab of mayo and mustard to each half, and ate the egg, with a very happy sense of completion.

Featured here are four more collage paintings in the At the Crossroads series which explore how I feel in this time of political upheaval while enduring a pandemic. In each I begin by collaging at least three layers of images, art papers, maps and text. Then I use a power sander to merge the images by revealing partial layers from below. I take time to really look at the resulting fragmented surface, then use acrylic paint to find and further develop the composition. I often repeat this process several times to create both contrasting and cohesive areas. In using this process I am finding solace in making sense and order out of a bombardment of images and messages.

Another piece from my “Geology” series.
In my teenage years was a serious rockhound. I spent many days exploring the Canadian Shield in northern Ontario, armed with my rock hammer. Using old prospector claim maps, I would go deep into the bush to find minerals and gems that were left over from the digs.
I continue to be excited by geological processes in the earth’s mantle and am trying to express that in my art.

This is the second collage painting in a series titled “At the Crossroads”. I was drawn to this form and after painting it for a while and realized it was a symbol for the personal difficulties I am having in making decisions and maintaining hope during this pandemic. It also represents my feelings about the critical juncture we are in as a country economically, environmentally, socially and politically.