|Posted on June 2, 2016 at 11:45 AM||comments (0)|
I have a new love. Not a person but a thing. POURING MEDIUM. having caught a video on Youtube by Michele, an artist and her demo (which is concise and fun to watch- so many ramble and don't show you much for the ammount of time viewed), I became enthralled and ordered some on Amazon. That, after a search through Michael's, Jo ann's, Hobby Lobby and other local art supply stores. Liquitex makes it and maybe some other brands but I haven't found them yet. About 30$ for 946 ML (about a pint?) I found I can do around 3-4 canvases with this amount and still have fun. Used in conjunction with acrylics or paint inks/dyes its a fun, and good looking way to get abstraction in your work or with backgrounds, This is how I use it- though a couple canvases have turned out so well with just the medium that I won't touch them.
"Wave" acrylics and Pouring Medium on gallery wrapped canvas- J Furzer 2016
You lose a cetain amount of control, which is a wonderful thing. You can decide colors or angles to a certain extent but really, they create themselves which i love and then I wait for the canvas to "speak" to me. (Sounds so cryptic) and after a bit, or sometimes right away, I see things in them and I respond to it with what I paint on top.
"See Turtle" Acrylics and Pouring Medium on Canvas. 2016- This is available on Fine Art America.
Also Available in prints. Originals are part of individual patron collections.
I "pour" the mixed medium (mixed with color, either inks or acrylics) from squeeze bottles and tilt and run them at angles and then set them out to dry raised on little plastic cups over plastic. Trash bags in the case of this photo or a section of plastic roll or painters drop cloth. Afterwards you can burrito up the plastic to throw away or use again. They take about 24-30 hours to dry but so worth it. A nice sheen too. Part of my attraction is the very slight sheen, almost a flat, that my artist's acrylics have against the sheen of the medium. The contrast to me is a plus. I am a big fan of collage too and i can see a relationship between that and my liking the almost cut out feel of the subjects upon the backgrounds. This new series is called "Poured with Life'. (i made that up- LOL)
So here it is- my newest discovery; Go get some and have fun!
|Posted on July 13, 2014 at 10:50 AM||comments (0)|
The rest of the household is sleeping as I warm up the water and gather brushes left in paint water overnight. Way too long for someone who knows better. An artist "sin" to leave them that way and I am a big culprit.
The morning coffee is starting to seep that nutty yummy smell across the kitchen and I fold lengths of paper towel and place it next to me on the counter. Brushes, how long have I been doing this? Maybe 35 to 40 years. Working the paint out, cleaning the handles, laying them on the towels to dry before I put them away in their little storage buckets in the studio. Warm suds and water- there is a certain therapy to that. Looking out the kitchen window at a still early dawn and the trees around the pool area. This is my life. Kids and husbands and dogs and old farm cats. Birds in the corner tree like a condo complex with too many residents. Paintings swirling in my head that sometimes never get painted, and others that intimidate and make me wish my skill set was bigger.
A quick run at the laundry before the A/C and the afternoon heat of our weather changing drought ridden California. Coffee and yogurt with granola and raisins. It's Sunday, and I flash on a moment in church years ago, my hands still small, where I am folding, folding, folding the service handout. Rubbing the paper and seeing if I can make it feel like fabric. You almost can by the end of a long service, and keep yourself quiet and as still as you can be next to the watchful eye of a parent. Dad gives me a mint and a pen with a new index card to draw on. I wonder if he even remembers doing that? At 85 this year, he has gone backward into speaking only of complaints and his time in the military. Almost as if our raising and the man who taught me to saw and hammer and change the oil in my Datsun pickup- never extisted. I've actually tried to bring it up, it's kind of a lost time for him. Perhaps he just assumes I know that he loves us all- which I do, but it would be nice to hear him say that our childhood is part of his memories. Inside myself, I feel sad that he seems to hold on to such short happenings, and the main part of his life- that with my Mom- is lost to him. Like a suppressed hurt or a drifting leaf in the stream. I don't want to be that way. My interaction with my family, the laughter, the play, the learning we have done, is all so vital to who I am. Their understanding of my artwork and my heart.
I've brought them with me on so many jobs- all of them. I hope that it is all good memories overall. Built on love and family.
The brushes are done. My fingers are wrinkley from the water, I apply lotion and smile at the coconut smell that drifts up from my skin. Remembering a weekend in Palm Springs with Rob when we bought it. Time for another day.....
|Posted on September 10, 2012 at 6:50 PM||comments (0)|
The clouds roll across the edge of the Menifee Valley and I am happy to see them come. It's been months of sweltering heat and temps so high you suck in your breathe like you've been hit as you exit a door into the outside air. I must admit it is still humid to a fault but so much better. Just to get that wet break in the heavens, even if it's rolling thunder and a brief hard downpour, well, it's something.
The studio is cool and dark. It seems almost sinful to turn on the can lights or disturb the quiet calm of the darkened room. I won't. Typing in a low lit studio is so much better with rainy afternoons and Autumn finally coming on. I don't want to disturb anything about it with harsh lights or too much movement.
I will have to soon enough as I need to cut stencils for my Art Alliance Orange AID orange sculpture. I've painted it finished in my head a dozen times, now it's ready for actuality.
What started as a white fiberglass orange is now sliced and trimmed. Ready for the final touches, floral and more. Bondo and sanding, color and gloss yummy juicy orange slice attached and I'm ready for the final art to finish it. It will be auctioned off in November's Gala for the Arts at Riverside Art Museum.
I wanted to convey that wet and bright color of the slice, that vintage bright look to the florals, like the enamelware I collect.
It's raining again, I am so content with this afternoon. Life isn't half bad.
Addendum; Repainted the orange and delivered for Art Alliance. I am quite happy with it now and feel like it's more what I was invisioning. Called it ,"Slice of Cali"
|Posted on September 2, 2012 at 11:00 AM||comments (0)|
On year, about 5 or 6 ago, I played happily with a new air brush gun and produced some foggy , spooky graveyard paintings on a whim. They sold so quick on Ebay I was over whelmed. Tried some more. Same thing happened. I think I sold over 20 in the month before Halloween.
Now it's becaome a tradition to paint them. My Christmas money is gained. I get this fun, unique opportunity to delve into the lives of not only those with kids or with the hearts of one, (at least about holidays) but to cross paths with a real honest Halloween buff now and then. I even sold one to go to a paranormal investigator and his wife. The story also goes that they were the investigators for the actual Amityville horror house. Kind of neat. Kind of creepy!
They are not "deep" but fun. Colorful and not really scary. I am happy making them, silently supplying the story I see in each one as I paint. Putting in little hidden things like sleeping bats and spider webs. Sometimes a gargoyle on a roof or a "demon" in the grass. With the kids grown and college age, it's an outlet for that fun we had when they were young. The time as an adult, when you get to be silly again and enjoy being scared and liking candy. With them, and through them you get to enter that Neverland called childhood. I miss that.
|Posted on June 22, 2012 at 11:40 AM||comments (0)|
It's a little past 8 AM and my fingers are already black with spray paint. 22 colorful tees hang in the garage, their backs numbered for Sand Soccer on Saturday in Huntington Beach, California. Surf City. The original, with streets ful of tanned walkers and surfers. The place the Beach Boys sang of in those tunes that make you want to breathe in the smells of sea and suntan lotion. This will be a last tournament for my youngest. Graduated and college bound, this club team has been a respite from high school coaches who show favoritism and can't coach (more than one I guess from comments made by other parents- why is that?) Hard working, intelligent girls who play fair and laugh and love the game- what a change from so many teams and teens.
Tie Dyeing done, Summer's silkscreen design ready to be applied after the numbers dry. I can't remember how many projects we've done- the two of us- over the years. She doesn't need my help so much now. It's more of a companionship thing and I am glad of it but ready to slow down and perhaps find my own art a bit more.
I just had to do that last go around. To see them all excited as they get their tees, to laugh as they pose for crazy team photos and enjoy this next weekend of soccer in the sand. To have memories of projects and weekends with family and friends, To take the time to see what is right in front of you and nothing else. To give my children those memories as well as myself and to see my crazy husband be my daughters biggest fan.
I don't think my nails will ever really be free of a bit of paint here and there. I wonder, is that so bad?