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My art process. Military Life. My Cause.

Names Matter

I turned 33 at the end of last year. Thirty-three was a big year for me, for my art. I completed 9 pieces and celebrated by throwing an Art Naming and Wine Tasting party. My husband and I had traveled to San Fransico and Napa Valley (California) for our 6th year anniversary/welcome home/reconnect trip last year. That trip inspired the wine tasting part. Art and wine go well together because wine makers take the art of making wine very seriously. Each one has its unique style and process variation that influences the final "creation." I wasn't aware of how intimate the process was until we toured those wineries.

One of the view we enjoyed while tasting some delicious wine.

Out of the 9 pieces I had completed, my husband and I had only named two. That's right, I let my husband help name my work! When we first got married I was preparing for a solo show that shared my journey from one name to another ( EAS, my maiden name, to EAW). We were newlyweds and he was a newbie to art as well. Getting ready for a show takes a lot of time, so in an attempt to invite him into my process, I asked if he would like to help me name my finished pieces. Naming is an important part of my process. I use it as one more layer of information for the viewer. I like to make it autobiographical, which means the name correlates with what was going on with my life when I made the piece. We also take into account what feelings/words the painting evokes when looking at it.

Therefore opening the naming process up to many people (on my birthday) was a....

STRETCH

beyond my comfort zone.

For the party, we turned our living room, dining room, and kitchen into a gallery . All family photos and non-EAW art were removed to make room for the nine pieces. We had quite the spread of fancy snacks to pair with some wines.

Our guests also brought their favorite bottle of wine to share. As people trickled in, we directed them to read our posted directions for the night, printed on bright yellow card stock. The main event was NAMING the artwork. There was also an option for the viewers to give their first impression using just one word, voting for the favorite piece, and a blind contour contest. The winner of the blind contour contest would get their drawing incorporated into my next painting.

To submit a name idea, our guests simply wrote the name on a post it note and stuck it beside the piece. We had a set time to read all the submissions aloud and then I picked the name on the spot. That felt a bit crazy. I hadn't fully decided beforehand, so it really came down to what struck me the most in the moment. I usually don't like to be put on the spot, but it was a fun and relaxed atmosphere. I even verbally processed through the decisions a bit, letting our friends know some of the other names that were in the running. Out of the 7 pieces that had name submissions, we chose 4 definite names and 3 tentative. In the future, I would like to be able to get this work into a gallery type setting and we would like the gallery patrons to also vote for the best name based on birthday submissions. I’m still considering how to make this happen. The name submissions were anonymous at the party, but it turned out that both paintings with blind contours of guns were named by soldiers. The others, interestingly, were not.

It is April now and I am happy to announce that I have finished the birthday contest piece (as promised). But I could not pick just ONE. There were so many inspiring blind contours. As I began to choose, I realized that the ones I was most drawn to belonged to the soldiers. So my newest piece, yet to be named, has 4 different blind contours from 4 soldiers.

At the party, #7 (Ballistic Neon) won first place for most people's favorite, with #2 (Upside of Manic) a close second. I was pleasantly surprised that even the color scheme (possibly being seen as less manly with the pinkish purple) did not deter their votes. When I painted "Ballistic Neon", I realized how ironic it was to make something so dangerous into something beautiful. It was a blend of warrior and my aesthetics. It reminds me of my marriage. A soldier and an artist. I had already been interested in doing more pieces in this style and the popular votes just reinforced my idea. The seed of the "Deployment piece" began to grow as my husband and I reflected on all that transpired that night and as we heard consistent rave reviews when we showed others my new work.

#2 Up Side of Manic Oil and Cold Wax on Panel 30"x30"

This party was pivotal in how I faced 2016. It was the first time since becoming a mom that I did more than dream about what I wanted to do next with my art. I started researching. I imagined this pitch, with the gallery patrons finishing the job we started that night, by naming the pieces. I remembered a suggestion (to enter ArtPrize) that was given in early 2014. I looked into it. As I researched, it became clear what action to take. I figured out the cost of the piece I was envisioning and then wrote a proposal in order to get a grant or private investor. Before I completed the proposal, there was a potential investor. The funds came in less than a week.

This is exciting! This is bigger than me and my name being known. I am creating this because I am inspired. I am creating this because I think the concept of connection during and after deployment needs to be talked about. I am passionate about helping families get the extra support they need because of these separations.

The Rick Herrema Foundation (RHF) is a non profit named after a soldier that paid the ultimate price, giving his life for freedom in Iraq in April of 2006. “When Rick claimed you as a friend, he was your friend for life; and for the 27 years Rick lived he never stopped serving others.” His name will not be forgotten. His life mattered. And RHF honors his name by making a difference in the lives of families who live through these deployments time and time again. That's why I have decided that all profits, whether prize money or the eventual sale of the "Deployment Piece" will be donated to RHF. This foundation has already seen me through one deployment lending continued support as I visited their community gardens every week to water and pick. My life has been impacted. I have made new friends. That (guilt free and kid-free) California trip I mentioned earlier was made possible with the help of special people I met there. If you, like me, are looking to make a difference in the lives of those who are still fighting for your freedom, and their families, then RHF is the place to donate. Or volunteer your time. Art matters to me. Names matter. Relationships matter. How we spend our lives matters. I'm finding new ways to use my art, and even my process, to make a difference. And you can too. This is a way to say thanks. This foundation provides a way to help those in the fight to keep their dignity as well as a place to connect and reconnect with their loved ones. I invite you to check it out. www.RHFnow.org

Blind Contours and Tangled Perspectives

Detail of "Urban Sniper" an example of one of the pieces in my current work that I used Blind contours in.

In middle school, I learned of this art exercise that changed my life and process as an artist. It is called blind contour. Traditionally, it was used to help with observation and to encourage the artist to trust their hand. Observation is key to drawing. I have been told over the years by my art teachers that you should observe twice as much as you draw. What makes a blind contour? To draw in this way, you don't look at your paper. Your eyes stay fixed on the object you are drawing. Another "rule" of creating a blind contour is that once your pencil (or pen in my case) touches your paper, you must not lift it. I start by picking a point of the object and then following the lines of the object. My blind contours are more than just the outline of the object. I include the lines that cut across it too and create the form. As I observe the object, I am trusting my hand to draw what my eye sees, which develops greater hand-eye coordination.

"Lilies"  Watercolor and pencil on paper — "Lilies" Watercolor and pencil on paper

I have been using blind contours in my finished work since I first learned about it. I enjoyed it so much that during my art lesson I decided to draw the lilies I was looking at with a blind contour. I drew one of the flowers and then I drew it again and again until my page was full of blind contour lilies. To make it a finished piece, I went back and watercolored the different shapes that the overlapping lines made (above). This piece marks the beginning of me using blind contours as the base or bones of my finished work, not just a warm-up exercise for my sketchbook. I have found that drawing from life brings life to my work. It adds interesting lines I would never have just drawn on my own. It brings a complexity as I blindly try to capture this wonderful world. It takes concentration and focus. On more complex objects , you have to remember where you started and where you have already drawn. There are times when I just completely forget whole sections of an object because I thought I’ve already drawn it..

Like this blind contour of a bike where I thought that I did both tires but I didn't do as much detail on the second one.

The way I add my blind contour to my canvas is with chalk pastels and a projector. One time did a piece where my blind contour was drawn directly on it (the canvas was smaller and fit in my lap). After doing the blind contour the lines became the first layer of this design, loosing all resemblance of what I was drawing.

With the projector, the drawing is also enlarged. As I think about tackling this large deployment piece, the drawings that I project onto the canvas are crucial to the overall message of the piece.

Sunday afternoon I packed up my sketch pad and a few favorite pens and headed off to a drawing date with my husband. My husband is not an artist by trade but he came to keep me company, add his input on what imagery would be critical in depicting his experience of deployments the last 15 years, and do some blind contours with me (because he loves me). We went to the Airborne Museum downtown and sat staring at a helicopter to do the first blind contours.

As we continued to draw different objects, we had some onlookers, kids and adults wondering, what are they doing? Right before we left, one of the museum staff got curious enough to ask. It was fun, challenging, and more emotional than I had anticipated. I was staring at things that are normal views for a soldier. I was faced with fear. I battle fear every time my husband deploys. As I drew, I faced it in a different way. A new way. I know there is danger, but this made it tangible. I didn't see the storm of fear coming, so when we tried to talk through the way this piece was depicted, my ears were plugged to what he was really saying....miscommunication happened and it took a good portion of the evening to untangle it.

Later we chatted together with a National Guard soldier who had just returned from his deployment (he crashed on our couch, awaiting in-processing before he could head home to WV) and I saw my next steps in gathering the content for this complicated piece. It is not just about two worlds, but the two perspectives of those worlds. The deployment world from the soldier’s perspective and the perspective of home from those who stay at home. We each have our battles for courage. We each have a choice to make. The choice we make each day, and many times throughout the day. How will we view this season of separation? Will we grumble and complain? Will we believe the other will never understand our obstacles or joys experienced? Or will we choose to persevere in untangling miscommunication even when they are not on the couch next to us. Will we see this time as a waiting and "lost" time, or a time to invest in our marriage in a different way?

My next task in preparing the imagery for this public work is to interview my husband to get a REAL feel about his perspective on deployment. I am thankful for our friend crashing on the couch and his valuable input on this complicated and long story I am trying to capture in 18, 96"x6" canvases.

From MOLD to the REVEAL in less than 24 hours

I have dealt with mold on old cheese or bread but never on my paintings. So I was a bit dismayed Thursday evening when I saw MOLD on the back of my painting that was to be presented to the client the very next day! YIKES. In a panic....not sure how long the process of "sun-drying" and brushing it off was going to take, I called my clients. They had a six hour drive ahead of them to see the painting and hang out in Fayetteville. Did they want to postpone their trip?

They decided to risk it....to make the trip even if they couldn't take it home because of mold. Thankfully Friday was sunny and I took it outside in order to start the process.

Told them to look sad about the mold and this is what i got.

It felt like failure. How did I not notice until Thursday night?! Why didn't I think of mold when the other items were molding in my garage? Why was it in the garage, you might ask. Well, the commission had generated enough extra money to insulate my studio! An amazing opportunity, except for the month and a half that my studio stuff was in the garage was really really rainy.

After!

Dry wall, paint and purging......Made a HUGE difference

Back to the mold....I googled what to do. And then my husband got involved. I was sick at the thought of bleach or Lysol touching my painting, but we had to kill that mold. I was in my studio checking the other paintings for mold when I heard him on the phone talking about the painting.... He got off and I asked him whom he had been talking to? To my surprise he had called the conservation expert for the Smithsonian! After hearing her advice, he made a quick store run.... for a vacuum with a HEPA filter, Lysol spray, and a brush. When he returned he made war on that mold.

Once the mold was gone, we hung it up in our living room and covered it with a queen size purple sheet. We had about one hour before their arrival. I was a ball of nerves. Excited because I thought I "nailed it" (made a striking piece that accomplished what they asked for)… but what if they didn't agree? I had done the scary thing and I chose to hope and trust that my ability to deliver had not escaped me.. This was different than my first commissioned oil painting in 2005, when I made two paintings and let that client choose

Before I went in to present them I guessed which one they would choose. Option #2 it was. Unknown to them that day my confidence was being built through that process of deciding.

My process of getting the pertinent information from clients has evolved over the years. Since I have over 50 oil paintings of various sizes, styles and color schemes, we look through past works and have a discussion. I ask questions such as, "Which ones are your favorites?" And why? I take note of the style (whether it is more expressionistic or more patterned?) "Which ones do you not like?" "What size are you thinking? (At times budget dictates this but we have always managed to find the right formula for impact and budget.) "Any color that you absolutely do not like? “ Also, in most cases, I make the piece to fit the room, so I also ask if there are items in the room that they don't like, so I know NOT to consider those items,whether it is a rug, chair, or curtain. I take all the visual information from the space and their personal opinions of my past works, then when the check is written for half of the entire cost, they receive my creative energy and focus.

Then they WAIT......these clients waited 4 months with no previews or work in progress shots. I chose not to post because I wanted their first look to be in person.

This client had a unique request, to name the piece. But I think in the future I would like to make this a new practice in presenting commissions. In the past I have just delivered and hung the commission and mission was complete, but I really enjoyed the interaction and feedback I got from them after the piece was presented. Because they are not just clients, but also friends, they stayed two nights with us before they drove their piece home. It was surprising to me that Tammy, within the first hour of seeing it, thought of the name, "The Perfect Day." So we did not need to conduct a group naming session, it just fit. The name also confirmed that the piece accomplished the goal.....to loosely depict the feeling she gets riding her bike on trails in autumn. As she put it, "her happy place". It is where she goes to find her peace. It is one of the ways she has persevered in her fight against thyroid cancer and now life without a thyroid. I felt honored to be a part of encouraging her by creating this piece. She is an amazing woman.

Now "The Perfect Day" resides in Georgia. My studio feels a little bare, which is a good thing.... because I am waiting for all 18 of my 8 foot by 6 inch canvases to arrive. This new work will mark the largest single piece I have ever made and I will be documenting the process here. This piece will be about a difficult topic for me: separation, more specifically, deployment. My information for this piece is first hand knowledge from the 6 deployments my family and I have experienced.

What is something that you have always wanted to create, but never have? Why not? I was waiting for a better time. I didn’t want to put myself out there. It was just a dream until I started researching and putting actions to it. Others are involved now. Stakes are raised, but I believe that what I have walked through on this journey has prepared me for this undertaking. Doing a public piece, one that is made for a public space rather than a home, has been a goal for me for years, so being at the beginning of the process is daunting and exhilarating all at the same time. Will you join me through this process?

a look into my journey- creating BIG

Hello, welcome to my blog. This is something I have been avoiding for six years.... I had a list of excuses. Now I am pushing those aside with my loads of laundry that need attention. I am a wife to a soldier and mom to three girls, but these characters are not on main stage here. I plan to share the part of me that has been growing since I was a young girl with a clipboard and computer paper, "doodling" every chance I could get. I am an artist. I need to make "beautiful" things to feel alive. It is my sense of accomplishment when life tasks are unfinished. It is my safe place where I can be myself when life and relationships feel shaky. It is my place of celebration and sorrows. It is a place that I enjoy the company of close friends. They come watch me paint and chat. I don't need silence. Music or audio books are welcomed. It is a time of self-discovery and self-release, all in one breath. As I think back to when I first started making art.....I LOVED tiny things. I made so many tiny details, and I remember thinking a 22"x28" poster board was HUGE. How would I ever fill all that WHITE space?....

NOW....

My absolute favorite way to create is to paint in oils on large canvases.

Flying out of Darkness 5'x6' Oil on Canvas — Flying out of Darkness
5'x6' Oil on Canvas

This one (above) was my first 5'x6' completed in 2006. Whoa. Ten years goes quickly when you’re not counting. This piece was part of a three part series on flight. This size canvas was delivered to me by "mistake". I was in the middle of a 14 piece painting commission (a story for another day) and I got two boxes with three 5'x6' canvases in them. How did I not notice? Seems like it would have been obvious, but I was doing 4'x6' and other various sizes, so I just opened them. When I realized I didn't have the ones I needed, I called about the mix up. I ended up buying them for a much reduced price, as I am sure they didn't want to come pick them up. This piece was quite a piece of self-discovery.....Making it stretched me. It is named "Flying Out of Darkness" and all three in this series are about flight.

Persistence of Flight  5'x6' Oil on canvas — Persistence of Flight 5'x6' Oil on canvas

Flight for me is a metaphor for faith. What was I going to do? These pieces were not easily transported. Let alone stored. I laid awake at night wondering how I would get them safely where they needed to go? I was not willing to pay to move them because I wasn't earning money from them. I was in a feast or famine stage of creating (though I ABSOLUTELY DETEST the phrase "starving artist"- I would have been one without the support of my family.) I lived at home with my parents after graduating from art school, to follow my dream of producing beautiful artwork that would transform the atmosphere of a room. I dreamed that God would bring people who would "fall in love" with my pieces and be willing to pay real money to take them home. It feels vulnerable to express what is inside you for all to see. There are times of sheer delight when you see people enjoying and taking in your art. But there is also disappointment when you walk into a venue and your work is hung sideways. I felt the continued prodding to make even though no one seemed to care. There were moments when I thought I should I just stop. Did I really have something worth saying?

I enjoyed the massiveness of making them and I learned (and am still learning) to let go of all the practical parts of me that say, it is foolish to paint huge pieces with hefty cost without a client. Sometimes the blankness was bigger than me and that was the best reminder that I can't see the full picture. That same massiveness I enjoyed was overwhelming at times. Do these pieces really have homes? Will anyone ever love them? Is this worth it? Worth the risk of exposure?

Now fast forward almost ten years to 2015..... I received my first commission (prepaid and promised artwork to a specific person) of this size. As I think of it, this is the FIRST time ever that I have sold a piece this large. Some of those first ones found homes but this one has a family waiting.....the piece is finished. I will post the picture once the client sees it for the first time (this weekend).

Flight and faith are taking on a whole new meaning in 2016 as I received a grant to produce my very first public art piece. I plan to chart this journey here. I hope you join me for a real look into my process.