It's been a while

Social media has subsumed so much of online communication and sharing -- Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr -- that sometimes I forget about my blogs, which is a shame because the nature of a blog is more intimate. Blogs encourage writing -- duh, it's was all about journaling when blogs first started.  

And I've drifted from my artwork --  yes, I'll admit that work and family and other issues pretty much took over my life these past years.  I can't remember the last time I picked up a paint brush.  But things are changing for me once again.  Retirement is coming up and frankly, I cannot wait!  

So this morning I decided it was time to begin dabbling again.  Because time is short and I wanted to get outside and enjoy my Sunday afternoon before returning to work tomorrow, I decided to play with small digital collages.

It's almost like learning to ride a bike all over again!  Lots of 'mistakes' later, I was finally happy with what I did.  Time to share!  

These little works are all available on my RedBubble site -- greeting cards, prints, mugs, journal books and more.  I hope to keep up on these small tidbits until I feel like I'm not such an amateur!

Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.

Edgar Degas

Digital Collages for an Autumn Afternoon

Playing with a new computer, struggling with learning curves, new software, etc. Time is a bit short, need to get outside before the sun sinks too low . . . hate this late autumn/early winter adjustment.  It's somewhat disorienting, making one feel robbed of the day.

Seems as if there isn't enough time to paint, so this is the next best thing -- digital collaging.  I like building up the layers, working with old texts, creating my own custom brushes.

Perhaps someday I'll actually use these in something -- what, I'm not sure yet.  I'm still learning how to work with the software and my photos.  Perhaps I'll purchase those kits I keep reading about . . . 

This image was from an old house wall whose siding was peeling off in sheets.  I cropped it closely, then added multiple layers of old text and a final layer of an abstract painting, which I adjusted in several blending modes.  I wasn't sure where this was going, but finaly had a sense of a portal into a kind of fantasy realm . . . ? 

This image was worked up from a paper towel after I'd mopped up a mess on my painting table.  When it dried, I scanned it, then left it on the computer for months.  Today as I was scrolling through my files, I came across it once again.  I liked the effect of the little nubbly texture that the scan had retained from the paper toweling. 

Using that I began adding elements -- old leaves I had scanned, old texts, flourishes cropped from the vintage signatures, and finally an  overlay of an old watercolor painting inverted and blended.

I'll have to wait for the upcoming holiday weekend to play further with these -- or make some more. I'd like to do more with these -- I've seen so many interesting digital works in magazines like "Digital Studio" -- I just need time, something that seems to be elusive these days --
 

setting sun melts into woodsmoke --

regrets rising with the moon

Opposition

 

Restlessness surging -- gray skies and clouds scudding overhead -- winds blowing, whipping trees into a frenzy --

The changing seasons always seems to make one unsettled, as if trying to get the sea legs squared away beneath one --

The urge to drive straight north up to the Canadian border non-stop, to see mountains and hillsides slipping gold and scarlet petticoats mixed with the scent of pine --

One theory in American history is that the westward expansion was fueled by the growing sense of claustrophobia here on the East Coast, with its' crowded cities and towns.

I believe it. Henry Thoreau's acreage around Walden Pond is surrounded by developments and corporations leaking out from the Boston area. The Cape is a long string of beach motels and cottages, many strung with for sale signs.

But one must slog on. Soon we adjust -- to the light, to the growing cold, to the crowded highways and strip malls.

An escape hatch is needed -- where do we find them?

Inside our heads as we feel for the edges of our space . . . 

in one breath

leaves fall --

skies open wide

*   *   *

You see, I want a lot.
Perhaps I want everything:
the darkness that comes with every infinite fall
and the shivering blaze of every step up.
Rilke