by Diane: One improvement leads to five new needs

It is so easy to get side tracked from necessary improvements for safety for aging in place to dangerously counterproductive cosmetic not so lasting improvements. And then uncover bad mistakes.

   The big renovation of both the house and conversion of the shop started with the urgent need to replace the impossible for me to close barn doors. They were replaced by sliding glass doors. That led to making the shop into a space for oil painting which led to insulating the attic, a radiant heater, not to mention needing warm water and a toilet, pocket doors and sheet rocking which led to painting.

The added pop out by the kitchen sink was always hateful because of the danger of climbing over the sink to clean. When the pop out was demolished the exterior needed to be finished in siding and cedar has been difficult to maintain. First the south wall was replaced with hardy board. That looked good so did the entire outside of the house. All these exhilarating changes I love happening so easily and quickly.

Now I have a beautiful laminate photograph of blond hickory flooring. And the scent of saw dust that irritates my nose already dealing with allergies. Will the scent go away after cleaning up all the exceedingly fine sawdust?

by Diane: Update #2 for transitioning into widowhood: Taking license to change my mind

Experimenting to find out how little I need to change to dramatically improve the useage of my home now that it is just for me. I considered making the shop a painting studio. It is big. I would have freedom of movement and no worries about moving the paint around and getting some on the floor or walls.

 I changed my mind. It really isn't necessary to redo everything in Fisherman Hubby's shop.  Maybe after straigntening and cleaning it, the shop will be a good place to learn to make frames. Tuesday, Ocober 27, I was certain that the living room would be my office/ painting studio and I continued to move into my new creative space..

 Saturday afternoon, October 24, Barbbara Levine and I did our second session painting a mandala.

Saturday evening after a daughter's visit, October 24,

 This is the seventeenth day of widowhood.  I am beginning to reshape the house. I was thinking of making the shop an art studio until a daughter changed my mind.  Looking at the shop, it would be nice to keep it a shop because with a little dusting and straightening it up it would be a delightful place as is. Here is part of Fisherman's legacy.  Also great for storing oil paintings in the summer time!   After airing it out, I do not smell heavy gasoline fumes. I might even become expert in framing my own paintings.

Sunday, October 28.

Quickly I write before the wind kicks up and the 22 degree freeze tonight,  these wintry predictions had me anxious at 4:30 AM this morning.  But feel much calmer at noon now that I filled the patio wood box with wood. Made sure I had help after my poor attempt to split kindeling. The hammer was heavy and of course I picked a piece with a knot that wouldn't buge. A neighbor just pulled it apart with his bare hands. The neighbor's kids came too and found pearl like seeds in the Nakid Lady flowers.

When I picked up and carried hoses to the shop I must have accidently hit the Medical Guardian  alert buton.  So I was surpised when two Fire Department EMTs paid me a visit.  They were very nice about my false alarm.

After I cook up more food in case of a power failure, I will paint a little. The easel now in the living room waits to see if  I like the livingroom's natural North light. I think I will stay in this old house. 

Tuesday, October 27

Although my canvas is on the easel and my paints wait in a cart, I did not paint yet today. I went through the entry cabinet by the front door. I  continued to move things like the childhood games to a shelf near the computer. Children's art stuff is still in the entry cabinet.  The cabinet was used as a place to dump greeting cards. The ones from Fisherman brought tears to my eyes. Though not ofton spoken, he signed his name after writing "love". 

 

by Diane: Update on my Art Escape #8

Happy Passover or Happy Easter! Happy? Well possibly an inept greeting during a pandemic for both Passover beginning tonight and for Easter on Sunday. I choose Beautiful.  So I wish everyone a beautiful holiday. It is beautiful to recall stories of overcoming bondage no matter which story is in your heart.
       One day at a time. My Father's wise mantre that supported his care giving for Mother! One day at a time. One day at a time. Do not over fill the day with too many tasks. Stay focused on each task and do it correctly. I am poor at coming up to his level. But I especially follow his example of

Before

 escape into his topology book. Like him  I escape into a few minutes here and there into my painting of swallows' flights.


After painting over but maybe not finished
Hot press watercolor board takes flooding with water layer upon layer without warping.
 Like in topology I am putting a circle around two flights printed from a cut potato.
I like the repetative printing but want to do another while I am observing their flight.

       I find joy. The swallows are back yesterday just in time for my painting process to proceed. Only the cold rain showers means few flying bugs.  So the swallows fly swooping paths over a quarter mile range.  More difficult for me to see how their flight pattern is an example of a toplogy tangle if projected on my picture plane! But their presence allows me to observe how their wings flap and they change direction and elevation.
       I feel close to my father when I am inspired by topology to see nature in new ways knowing my father had joy playing with math. I imagine his being in awe of its beauty.

       Six more museum boxes arrived on Friday. Left them, as a precaution against Covid 19, over night in the garage. Then spent a happy day filling them and rearranging my studio. When I have time I plan to arrange the pictures in order labeling the memories of my life. My work is a visulat diary of my life.
      I was just waiting for an excuse to look through my art and clean my studio. I always like to arrange my art work before doing the more mondaine cleaning tasks.



 On the left is the Blick catalog listing for the 12 boxes that store my archives

by Diane: Update #2 - Getting started painting

 

I am going about managing my paints like the Tibetan monk I met in 2002. Like the monk my  tools are made of materials in my easy reach. The monk's paint pots are an assortment of recycled containers. His brushes were handmade with stick handles. I am making a brush cleaner from what I can glean - plastic jar and void credit card.
We are using different paint. Mine is acrylic and cannot be reconstituted after drying like his. So I need to keep the paint moist in a sealed container.



The off white plastic clam shell take out containers 
are from China Delight Restaurant in Corvallis.
Balanced on the partitions are smaller plastic containers
gleaned from our recyclables. Two are the molded plastic
from Reach dental floss
and the larger ones in the middle are from hardware packaging.
The added small containers leave ample space below and above.
Below is space for a water reservoir to keep the humidity high
enough to keep the paint moist when the clam shell is closed. 
The dome shape above is spacious enough for sticks to remain in each color.
The plastic Daniel Smith paint jar was fitted with a paint brush scrapper cut out from a void credit card.
The small canvas board is where I am testing brushes sticks and stamps made of found objects.
 

In preliminary testing of a partially filled palette, I find I have some failures.
My scrapper failed. Thicker paint stuck to the credit card when theoretically I expected all paint to fall into the jar. Just pressure balanced the credit card when pushed to hard fell into the paint below.
Next week I will bend a stiff wire to stand high up in the paint scrapping jar.

                                

My start looks ugly to me so far. Will keep trying.

   

by Diane: Update #1: My process in making a new painting goal

Clearing the way for an exciting new direction 

 is one of the best parts of exhibiting my paintings.

Studio before hanging my exhibit

 

Thirty paintings stacked against the wall

waited to be hung at Albany Public Library January 5 - February

Love seeing my work in a large space like the library! The spaciousness of the library gives me a different perspective in which to self-judge my direction!

With a good many of my paintings gone, I have room to clean and organize my work space. 

   For my quest to make a resolution  in addition to house cleaning, I watched the DVD Netflix documentary, "Monk with a Camera."  For me, an admirer of Buddhist philosophy, but with no plan of becoming Buddhist, a movie about a convert stimulated my questioning the psychological health of playing with art as I do.



Inspired by my 2002 painting
of a China /Tibet
 monk's studio, I am removing all
but the most necessary 
tools from my work space
to make a  relaxing,
 soothing, contemplative,
painting place.
 Easy to use while I continue
 as a care giver
the next two months.
 

        
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

"Monk with a Camera" is a 1914 documentary about the spiritual journey of photographer Nicholas Vreeland, the grandson of Vogue magazine editor, Diana Vreeland and Ambassador Frederich Vreeland. Nicholas rejected the life style of privilege that he was born to especially the glitz and expectations of high society.  Seeking the advise of the Dalai Lama, he moved to India where he in earnest studied at the Rato Dratsang Monastery.

      

        He worried that the more he took pictures, the more he would want to take them.  Making art would be intoxicatingly presumptuous of his importance. As a monk, in contrast to being a photographer, his identity was abandoned first by shaving his head of hair. Without hair on his head he felt in a sense naked of identity. He lived a sparse existence with only the most necessary things needed to live. He gave up his immaculate perfectly polished expensive shoes. After years of being a monk when charged with elitism because he was polishing his sandals like he used to polish his shoes showing off his elite superiority.  He explained the difference,"Polished sandals last longer." 

          As a monk if he spent his time taking pictures, he would be thinking as a photographer even without a camera in his hands.  If he was thinking like an artist photographer much of the time, his ego would be gratified so gretly that he would wipe away the humility of being a monk. In becomming a monk ones former identity is abandoned and individualism does not exist. Photography in addition would become an addiction.

      

         In my opinion being immersed in a pictorial art form is transforming  my values. I gradually  become resistant to advertisements. I do not desire most material things. The longer I have marketed my paintings for sale, the less my ego feels stroked by sales and more and more my art is about sharing my experience.

         Maybe I should take from Niki's first Buddhist teacher Kyonal Rato who at age 80 bought a chest full of windup music boxes in the shape of stuffed animals. He enjoyed orchestrating the play of these boxes to make a pretend musical show. And at more than 90 years of age he took child-like pleasure with his toys but kept them segregated from most of his life. His separating play just like the young Tibetan students at the monastery who played a board game on Mondays.  The China Tibetan Monks also were playing "football" (soccer). Buddhist Monks play. And  I feel confirmed in my art journey. Shouldn't I consider painting serious play fulfilling a basic human need to play?

 

       Another Netflix video "ADVANCED STYLE" by Ari Seth Cohen has one parallel philosophy - "Money cannot buy style."  The video exposes the under recognized fashion sense of individuality in seven women in their 60's through 90's. They embrace shopping to build outfits expressing themselves as art. They flourish showing they are better than the advertised merchandise trying to sell the latest fad to all.  They have found the zest of being alive and vibrant in the  same New York City that Nicki rejected.
         The ladies of "ADVANCED STYLE" celebrated the importance of being individuals while Nicholase Vreeland rejected the importance of the individual when he became a monk.
 

       Also pertinent to my considering a different direction for this period of care giving is a Great Courses selection, "THE SHAPE OF NATURE" of lectures by Professor Satyan L. Devados inwhich the most important concept is that form and function is interrelated.  For me as an artist, the design of my studio space is the form in which my art making is the function. 

       In my next update, I plan to share my self critic of my work at the library and hopefully show  progress in rearranging my studio. Maybe even new paintings.

 

 

by Diane: New Decade/ New Year's look at my life as an artist

 Before considering my resolutions, this decade, this year, I question my life as a practicing artist. In my current stage of life going on 77 years of age in 2020, I consider my age and the changing of our living location or remaking our home to suit our needs - an expected soon to be reality.  Plus all the conditions of the world around me need to be considered. Putting aside immediate issues for awhile, I consider some hypothetical possibilities far from my reality.
      How would I practice art if I was a Yellow Hat Tibetan Monk? Will such an improbable question stimulate an enlightened goal?


What is missing from the monk's painting paraphernalia?
 No rags? No large container of water to clean brushes?
No container of many brushes?
Only a thermos for his tea and another for water to add to his paint?
Only stir sticks in paint pots to keep paint at the exactly right creamy consistency.
Are the sticks in each color pot tipped with a brush head down in the paint?
Do I remember a few hand made brushes?
 If he uses a different brush for each color, the purity of his colors would be maintained
without contaminating cleaning water or rag. He will not contaminate the environment.
His method insures no waste of precious mineral colors.
Can a brush remain in a gouache type paint without ever being cleaned?
Did he paint with sticks?
Do I see a receptacle for scraping off and collecting excessive paint before applyication?
Knowing his exact working method does not matter.
I have an idea of how I can change my work space process.
 

      I remember my first impression of the artist monk August 13, 2002, at the Drepung Monastery in China, Tibet. Seeing his fascination with my sketches and pen, I handed him a brush pen that I was using. He wanted to try it and I gave it to him for keeps. In my sketch book he drew a self portrait. Later at home I painted Pintolanden ( my poor phonetic spelling of his name). I clearly remember my impression because when I came home, I painted him. His studio was rich in color. I was impressed how cozy he was in stark contrast to the desolate landscape outside. Above all I wanted to work from color pots like his.

The monk's drawing of himself.
 I never explored the meaning of his pose.
Or the meaning of his Buddhist name.

My painting reflects how suited his work space was
to making Thangkas. It should be an ideal space
for meditative, spiritual painting
but I saw this space was impacted
by the world of soda pop and clutter of
plastic bags from recent shopping.
Over his robes he wore a sweater
and under his robes - sweat pants.
He had Western style running shoes.
 On the floor was an open paperback book.
Possibly a corrupting novel?
 

        Historically monks painted meditatively soothed by repeating the same traditional details with minimal need to make independent choices. All their colors were spread out in little pots so they could paint continuously without interruptions to prepare the next color. So impressed, was I that I found a couple of clam shell plastic boxes in which I put  a quarter cup of each acrylic color. I grouped colors that I often mix together. Spritzing them with water whenever they start to dry, these colors remained workable for months. Now I see much more that I can use from the monk's art process.

       On a deeper level, I was impressed in 2002 by the impact of the world on the Tibetan painter, "Pintoladen". He was not isolated from the world.  Tourists like me must be interrupting his work rhythm. He was making thangkas not just for the monastery and local Buddhists but for tourists who may or may not be on a Buddhist spiritual journey. The sale of his work along with other spiritual items made at the monastery supported the monastery in today's world driven by money. Today's world is not perfect.  Neither would returning to a theocracy be better. In by gone ages, the peasants provided for the the ruling monastery.Now it is moneyfrom maybe the Chinese government and tourists.

        At home in 2002  I failed to think of our core similarities and differences until now when I watched a film about a Buddhist convert. Next Wednesday's post will be a review of "A Buddhist with a Camera".

In the next couple of Wednesday posts,
 I will update what kind of art and how I make my work space
comfortable and workable.

    

by Diane Widler Wenzel: Triangle strong painting support discovered while cleaning studio

The certain tolerance that I have for chaos in our home reached a limit when I had to move very large paintings to get into a cabinet for frequently needed supplies ranging from sketch books to picture hanging wire. Worse yet too many painting rags, a large box of acrylic paints on the floor, because every inch of the work bench was covered and piled high. When starting to organize the mess, I didn't expect to discover a better engineered way to make stretcher bars for large paintings from the poor quality of second growth wood now available.
        Organizing my studio space is easier if I can eliminate some of the stuff in it first.

        Looking through my work, I could not bear to select a single picture to retire by making it into a floor covering, tablecloth, or into a practical useful thing. Sifting through my work and retiring a few at a time periodically strengthened the meaningfulness of my personal body of work. After years of sifting, I have come to the point where I feel almost all my remaining works are worthy of keeping.        There were, however, the two large ones leaning against the cabinet. They were from Habitat for Humanity for $7.00 each. I thought they would be good experiments or canvases I could use for play with neighborhood kids. So last summer I  prepared them by painting acrylic colored gesso over the original owner's paintings. A few weeks ago I experimented on one to figure out what combination of glasses or contact lenses would work over my cataract replacements focused for only near vision.  But the other canvas had mildew where it was water damaged. The neighbor kids did not come to paint yet on a damaged canvas. I didn't want to put a lot of effort into painting something that would not be healthy to hang in our home so I felt good about preparing it for the bonfire.  I ripped through the canvas with my utility knife and pried the canvas free. Then the rough knotty pine completely straight was revealed to my amazement

How could the stretcher bars be straight and true made from such rough knotty wood?  My experience was that clear straight grained wood is necessary to make a canvas that would hang flat on the wall. All the warped stretcher bars to my experience had knots.
          The secret was revealed - triangle strength.  The triangular shaped corners kept the corners square and the holes in the pegboard helped to keep the paintings light. For such a big canvas it is amazing that no brace bars were needed. Laminated to the wood is quarter round that has a triangular cross section with one side curved. the triangular shape also prevented the support from interfering with the painting. So strong is the combination of corners and the lamination that there is no need for elaborate brace bars which double the weight of commercial stretcher bars. Another plus to this construction is the relative thickness. I could store two of these to every one of the good commercially built frames this size.

The canvas under the stretcher bars is also usable. The mildewed portion is trimmed away. The rest of the canvas waits for the neighborhood children to come and play with it. The canvas is heavy enough to become an area floor covering or table protector if not wall hanging.