Monthly Archives: June 2005

Everyday Art Project – A Few New Pieces


Self-portrait, pencil sketch

I finally got my scanner to work, after stripping off and reloading the scanner software. I’d uploaded the new Mac OS X and my printer/scanner went screwy. I managed to fix the printer fairly quickly, but the scanner proved to be more of a challenge.

Not many people were posting their work at first, so I had no idea whether my work was of acceptable quality. After a while others started to post their work, and I realized that there was a variety of skill levels. The pressure was off and I decided to enjoy the process.

Here are some of the pieces.

     

     

     

The joy of apartment living

As the month draws to a close, I cringe once again at how tight things get around here, because it requires planning and forethought to pay for our rent, so that we have food and are able to pay for incidentals during that gap from having paid the rent until the next paycheck.

I suppose paying rent has always been something that I didn’t look forward to. I remember the first “real” apartment lease I had was on Vezina in Montreal, rented from my boyfriend’s friend’s mom, who owned several rental properties. We didn’t get a huge bargain on the deal. The neighborhood was “alright.” It was relatively an easy ride on the metro to downtown, though on my way there I’d pass a park where some rastas would whistle at me (and their women would scowl) and my boyfriend would sometimes go to procure himself a nickelbag’s worth for a dimebag’s price. At least, unlike the previous one he’d rented, the apartment was bug free. I was nineteen then.

We lived there for a while. It was a one bedroom apartment, with a large living area and a good-sized kitchen. It was an old construction, so the dining area was still in the kitchen and the other rooms were large (though there was no such thing as a walk-in closet back in those days). My boyfriend played bass guitar and we were nocturnal creatures at the time. Our downstairs neighbor played the drums, which he kept in his bedroom (or perhaps he’d moved them there for our most special listening pleasure, after a particularly late night of bass playing). A war ensued… Roy would play well into the night, and we’d be greeted with the drum alarm early in the morning. They finally came to some sort of agreement and if memory serves, they may even have decided to jam together some. Finally, detente.

As things are ever-changing in a youth’s love and life, I left Roy and moved back to the South Shore. Rents were cheaper there, and so I was only paying something like $300 a month for a one bedroom apartment, again good-sized. The thing to recall about these apartments is that all of the utilities, except for the phone and cable, were included in my rent… and everything was run on electricity, including the heating. Roy eventually, grudgingly, ended up following me there, and we shared another apartment together, before he finally exited my life for good.

This place was about a ten minute walk down Roberval street to my parents’ place, where I’d have dinner regularly. They provided a cooked meal, I did the dishes. It seemed to be a fair swap. Sometimes my dad would pick me up at the Longueuil metro station after work, so as not to delay the consumption of dinner. I appreciated the convenience of not having to sit in a crowded bus after a long day’s work, and get the slow (and unwanted) scenic tour home.

I lived on in that apartment complex, through a series of boyfriends, roommates and finally a long-term relationship. We moved from the one bedroom to a two-bedroom, which cost us at the time in the neighborhood of $470 a month. The second bedroom was smallish, but it was still great as an office, and accommodated my new computer.

The last place I lived in prior to moving out to California was in an old art-deco apartment building in Snowdon. It had an old radiator heating system and the rooms were huge. I rented it with my roommate, Elena, and it was very conveniently located. Just minutes from downtown by metro, we also were right next to a huge artery, Queen Mary, which had tons of restaurants and delis and a little bagel shop that made bagels that can only be found in Montreal. Had I not met Steve and decided to move across the continent and border, I would probably still be living in the area. While it wasn’t a luxury apartment, it was clean and well-maintained, and for $600 a month included heat and electricity (chauffé, éclairé).

The place we live in now is definitely a step up from where I used to live. It has two pool/jacuzzi areas on the property, and sports a gym. Although Steve uses the gym somewhat more regularly, I’ve not laid foot in there, and it will shortly be two years since we moved in. It’s convenient, no doubt, since it is so close to my work, and anything I could possibly want or need is within close walking or driving distance. My rent, however, is something I choke on each month. It is more than what my mortgage payment used to be on the house… monthly we spend $1700 for this place, and it includes no utilities, not even the water and waste removal. We pay approximately $30-35 a month for that. Though my salary has about doubled since my days in Montreal, my rent has about tripled. Very interesting indeed.

Just for fun, I decided to do an apartment rental search on the internet, and came up with many links, but this one was the one I chose, simply because it provided a good range in living quarter selections, and was in the same sort of “neighborhood” as Irvine is, demographically: www.metropolitanstructures.com.

I sometimes long for the bustle of Queen Mary street and the mature trees that lined Clanranald. I miss my friends, too, and the places I loved to haunt, like the Museum of Fine Art on Sherbrooke Street, and the underground network of shops and restaurants downtown. Oh what I’d do for a Kojax souflaki on pita… or a REAL smoked meat sandwich and kosher dill… or even a poutine. 🙂 Oh… and I definitely miss the free healthcare, too. But, I don’t miss the snow, or the long winters… or the drama which revolves around certain members of my family that makes Everwood look like comedy.

Pieces of Me Journals


Some of my pages in Deb Jacob’s journal from the Pieces of Me collaboration

I finally got some pages photographed of the journal pages I’ve been working on in Deb Jacob’s journal. If you’ll remember, we started this collaboration a few months ago, in April, and my own book has returned to me, about a week ago. Time to start working in it once again so that it can make another round.

I find this all very interesting. I love the sharing aspect of this process. I hate to say it, but I don’t have very many friends. It’s not that I don’t like to have them, or that I’m unsociable, but everyone, including myself, is so busy, there is very little time to invest in a new friendship, so unless someone is an established “fixture” in my life, there is probably little possibility that I’ll be adding scores of new folks to my entourage. Further, my husband isn’t exactly the “social” type, so we spend much of our free time at home (we are both computer geeks, really) and our “big outing” on any given weekend is a trip to the book store or, even more seldom, to the matinee to take in a movie. We’re pretty darned boring folk. Our big Saturday morning event is me making bacon & eggs for us all for breakfast.

Anyway… getting back to the topic of friends… the ones both I and my husband seem to make mostly these days are of the on-line sort. Seems fitting, as that is where we met way back when (in 1992, when “the internet” had not yet become a coined phrase and 2400 baud was positively zippy). So, I salute all of my online friends, because though we may be separated by many miles and only linked by bandwidth, I’ve gotten to know many people quite well that way, and would definitely count them amongst the ranks of my friends, live or otherwise. I just hope that I’ll get to meet them all sometime.



Detail of tags from layout above

A nap beckons…


My addition to Gabe Cyr’s “Midnight Blues at Sunset” color journal
Ocean Sunset, Conte charcoals and Sennelier soft pastels on Canson mi-teintes paper

Well, remember that nap I knew would threaten this afternoon? It’s arrived, and I am about ready to lay down for a spell. However, not before I post an image of the art piece I did for Gabe Cyr’s journal, whose theme is “midnight blues at sunset.” I’m not sure if this fits, exactly, but this is what I was inspired to do.

We went to see Howl’s Moving Castle this afternoon at the Spectrum theatres. It was good, but interesting to note how much it deviated from the original story line. I’m glad that the Harry Potter movies so far are true to the books. In any case, Gabriel loved the movie, and probably more so because he hasn’t gotten much read into the story yet, and didn’t spend the whole time comparing the book to the movie. The animation, as expected, was phenomenal.

Off for my nap…

Rejoice in your results

It’s early Saturday morning, and you’d think I could sleep in, but I just can’t. About this time on a work day I’d be sitting at my desk already, checking the emails that arrived between the time I left the day before and the moment I arrived the next. I’d be putting a pot of coffee on to brew, and perhaps running downstairs to the cafeteria to grab a muffin. Although I got to bed fairly late last night, I can’t seem to sleep much past my usual morning wake up call. Besides, I have too much to do today, and I must get started! I’ll surely regret it later, but the wonderful part of weekends is that I can lay down for a nap if I get tired. Wish it were so during the week, too.

As I lay in bed this morning, a thought occurred to me. I realized that when I create a piece, I have found that I can do little to control the result; I can only rejoice in the outcome. Perhaps not in all cases. Perhaps this is not the case for every artist. Perhaps I am such a novice that someone with more skill has exceedingly more control over the outcome of their pieces. Indeed, it depends, perhaps, on the mediums used. I imagine non-water media (oils, etc.) have an easier time of staying put where you apply them, and don’t flow all over the page or canvas.

The process of creating a piece of art is very mysterious to me. Much like the mold on my refridgerator seal, which mysteriously reappears regularly despite getting wiped away, and the moisture trapped between the layers of the panes of glass in the kitchen, they manifest for a reason, but it is a seamless process, where they weren’t and all of a sudden they are. When I work on something, I usually don’t have a set idea of what I want to do, or where I want to end up. I start off within, feeling an emotion if you will, and then letting that feeling manifest itself through the use of color and texture, pulling various materials out as I go along, through resonating with how a certain piece of paper feels between my fingers, or with a color that draws me to it. I will usually start with an “inspiration piece” or a theme of some sort, but where it goes from there is anybody’s guess, mine included.

I often wonder what drives others to create. It seems to be a predominantly *feminine* trait, perhaps a continuance (or in lieu) of the birthing process. Seems to me that ‘god’ perhaps may be feminine after all, but I digress. After my long rant about class costs, etc., it occurred to me that we take classes for different reasons. My reasons are many-fold, as I do enjoy the camaraderie with other like-minded folk, and am inspired by seeing others’ works in progress, but mosly I like to go because I want to learn a technique or process.

Sometimes the ones who teach are particularly inspiring. Their works of art are unique and rely on their special, and especially mastered, techniques to accomplish these ‘revolutionary’ works. They may also be inspiring in more intangible ways, and help you to get to a place within yourself you never knew existed. Claudine Hellmuth and Julianna Coles are these kinds of teachers, and in my very personal opinion, worth every dime I spent on their classes. Both of them don’t just teach you how to make a specific project, they teach you the techniques to make a project that can be applied to ANY project, as well as the process with which they create. Both of them asked me to bring a “goodie bag” to share with others, knowing that images and various (unfamiliar) materials springboard the creative process. I’d never noticed it before, but after these classes I became acutely aware that it certainly was a huge and important part of *my* process, though perhaps not everyone creates from the same place.

As artists, or crafters (whatever you want to call us collectively), we seem to have an innate sense of color and spatial organization. If our IQ tests depended solely on how we scored on these, we’d be through the roof, right up there with Einstein and da Vinci. Unfortunately, a good number of us lack traditional art training, and such things as color theory and composition become important when creating works of art. But if you’re just ‘making a project’ and following instructions, and that’s the extent of your creative urge, that’s cool too. It just depends upon the reason you are creating. Having a basic understanding of art theory certainly helps make the creative process easier, but many of us know it instinctively, and learning it only reaffirms something we already were innately aware of.

While Julianna and Claudine are very professional and personable, not *all* teachers are so. They may have genius but can’t elucidate, but perhaps they could be drawn out, with the right questions, in the right venue, provided one knows what the questions should be. Inquiries about not only what they are doing (take this stuff and spread it on that) but the how and the why (why are you selecting that particular piece; how did you come to pick it?). See what I mean? It’s figuring out the process, and then assimilating it into your own creative process.

In any case, I was thinking it would be so doggone cool if someone would come out with a book which compiled “the best of” the traits that some of these teachers have… to tap in to the what, the how and the why… of their creative processes. Not focus so much on the project, but on the whole creative process that drives the artist, distilled into a formula that can be applied to anyone.

Oh, what the heck… (as I kick the hornets’ nest some more)

A few days ago, I posted a comment on a local art message board about the high cost of classes offered by “big name” teachers (or the venue(s) hosting them), and how it narrowed the opportunity for those less fortunate (or apt to spend their money that way) to learn new skills… that art is becoming more and more only accessible to the affluent.

It garnered several replies, mostly from those on the board who teach as well… and most of them replied along the lines of “yeah, but…” bolstered by “at-ta girl” posts when I was basically told where to go for whining about the escalating class costs coupled with less supplies provided by the instructors. The last one I read concurred with the organizers, stating that they would charge “as much as the market would bare” if they were put in the same position.

That what the market will bear crap is a group of buzz words that just makes me crazy… it’s the same catch phrase that makes the rental property company I rent from feel justified in charging me the kind of rent that has me bent forward with my pants down and grabbing my ankles. (There doesn’t seem to be any “rent control board” here in Irvine… but maybe I’ll go bitch to city hall… even IF it was rated as the #1 safest city in the U.S. in regard to violent crime… I knew I was paying through the nose for SOMEthing!)

Cost and profit have always been the issue of business. I remember when I was trying to peddle my craft wares (dried floral arrangements at the time… that was before the gift basket phase) and attempting to figure out how to make a few bucks off of my stuff after I’d factored in the cost of the materials, my operating costs and time. What a joke! Unless you get your stuff wholesale (which, when you are a small business, is quite difficult to set up without a decent amount of capital, because even the minimum order requirements are too big for your budget, and who the heck needs *that* much raffia?!), and count on paying yourself minimum wage or below, you’re not going to be making much of anything. Bottom line is, unless you discover some great way to outsource stuff overseas or to other “developing countries,” you’ll never make the money that you deserve (or think that you do)… and wasn’t the “making” part of the whole deal that you actually *liked*? BUT… are you doing what you love and answering to your own doggone self, or working for some other sap? Does it make you happy? Is what you are making *enough*? Well… that’s why I didn’t quit my day job.

What riles me is the huge discrepancy that folks whose names have clout (or venues who exploit them) feel that they can command versus other perfectly reputable and qualified folks who don’t have the push behind their name can’t even think of asking for.

Case in point (though perhaps not a good one): when I attempted to teach some classes (mine were mostly polymer clay classes, pre- the art doll craze, teaching folks to sculpt heads or faces), I was told that in order to draw any potential participants, I would need to low-ball the cost of the classes (and I do mean low-ball… I think I charged something like $22 for a 5-6 hour class, ALL materials included, minus the tools, which I had to purchase many more multiples of than I’d *ever* need in order to accommodate use during class). I may not be a good example, because I haven’t a proven track record for neither skill NOR teaching ability, but I know other folks who were (and still are) in similar situations, who do have both of those requisites but still need to low-ball their class fees in order to drum up attendance and/or interest.

Kelly (the board moderator) brought up an interesting point about pre-payment of class fees. How most stores don’t ask for prepayment, and when folks crap out, you’re standing there in a classroom filled with empty seats and all kinds of materials that you prepared for nothing (not to mention the time it took to get to the venue). I’ve been there and done that, too, both teaching classes *and* doing other work.

When I was doing massage work, some places had policies in place that would require a credit card to hold an appointment, while others did not. If a person was a no-show I would get paid zip, and because the customer didn’t call to cancel, the spot that could have been perhaps filled by another client was left empty. It was the nature of the business, and you knew that going in (and if you didn’t, like me, you sure learnt fast). I worked at a spa/club whose members received a certain number of treatments per month as part of their membership. I was already getting paid a pretty crappy flat rate for working on members anyway, but to add insult to injury, they were the worst offenders when it came to crapping out on their appointments… and I’d get nothing for that hour that I should have gotten something more than nothing. (They were the worse tippers, too… one used to give me one or two dollars… and even a toothbrush once–she was a dental hygenist. Massage was exhausting, physical work, even if it was perhaps rewarding in more intangible ways.) Complaining to the management about the policy didn’t make a difference, which explains why I returned to work full time in the legal support field. I needed a dependable and consistent source of income. This also explains why art is still a hobby and not my livelihood.

Kelly K. has taken MANY years to build up a following, and her fees are soooo extremely reasonable for all that she teaches and provides during her classes. Kelly is just an all-around cool lady. 🙂 (We need to figure out how to clone Kelly. And… Kelly needs a book deal… going once? …going twice?)

Judy Claxton is another teacher who *has* a published book, yet was charging really reasonable fees for her classes, and *man* those classes were awesome! Judy taught me most of the fundamental stamping skills that I now have. Kelly has taught me most of the fundamental book making and mixed media skills that I now have.

Quality is not always synonymous with “name” (though that may not be the case when we’re talking product versus teaching ability–I *still* think Duracell is better than Ray-o-vac). Although I’ve taken classes from a good number of “famous” teachers, most of whom were arguably worth the coin, I have been disappointed by some, for various and sundry reasons. Did I tell them directly? No, but did I tell the person running the venue, who was mostly clued-in anyway, because I’m not a persnickety git who throws a fly in my soup just ‘cuz I want to complain, and the “issue” had not gone unnoticed by them or the other participants? Yup. If the person teaching is around for long enough (say they’re around for a weekend), performance almost invariably improves steadily as the weekend wanes. Feedback *is* important, both the good and bad sort. Otherwise how else would you know how well (or lousy) you are doing… and to take a happy pill if you need to?!

On the other hand, I’ve taken some absolutely FABulous classes from folks with “big names” who were so worth the time and money spent. Knowledgeable… professional… well-prepared… “on” and ready to roll.

On the subject of opportunity… some folks simply have horse shoes stuck in places most of us don’t now or ever hope to have in the future. Call it the luck of the draw… being in the right place at the right time… knowing the right people. Some other folks have worked really, really hard to finally see their efforts bear fruit. Often, though, it comes down to it being a popularity contest and some good ol’ brown-nosing.

What turned me off of the “art scene” in college was the inherent snobbery that was ingrained into the very texture of its workings. It’s like punk rock going upper class, if you will. I find that the craft scene is approaching that similar state of snobbery. “Who” are you? Folks who are exceptionally talented artists and teachers can’t get larger venues to take them on as teachers because they don’t have an established name. You have to know-someone-who-knows-someone-who… well, you get the picture. Not that that is my personal experience, because I’ve only dipped my toe into the teaching pond before thinking that it just wasn’t my thing, for reasons previously mentioned, but it’s what I’ve heard from others trying to break into a market that from my perspective seems rife with nepotism and clique-ishness (is that even a word?).

Another thing that I’ve noticed is how the publishing folks just have the best of both worlds. They’ve got swag up the wazoo from the manufacturers and retailers, and get schmoozed by the wannabe artists whose work they showcase. I’m sure the down side is that it’s not a very well-paid field, but get up high enough on the totem pole and even that doesn’t suck so much. How do I know this? Because though my husband isn’t in any way related to the art or craft industry, he *is* in publishing, and has been for going on three decades, at various ends of the totem pole (and now somewhere in the middle… which also explains why I can’t quit my day job). The industry might be different, but the swag and the brown-nosing is the same everywhere. Man do they drop you like a hot potato, though, once you’re not in the industry anymore. If you think you’re “all that” it sure is a rude awakening when they don’t give you time of day after you leave (just ask my husband, after he left a position as Editor-in-Chief at a magazine for an in-house photog job). Any guess why he’s back in the publishing industry? Nothing quite like it to stroke the ego. 😉

Back to art… Quite honestly, I don’t play with art materials so that I can make purdy things for others to fawn over (although the unadulterated adulation certainly does wonders for my ego)… I make them because it helps me cope with my daily stress and other baggage, and I would most likely be partaking of some other potentially more damaging addiction if it wasn’t for the art obsession. That and chocolate. Vive le chocolat!

For every ONE of me, I am sure there are two or more customers who are more than happy and willing to drop their pants and bend over. In fact, I’ve done it on several occasions myself… it’s after a few times of that that you might decide that maybe forking the dough out in that direction might not be worth it. It’s called being an informed consumer, and hopefully there are others who will eventually reach that conclusion as well. Some folks are really good at self-promotion. Sometimes the hype is just that… hype. Sometimes moxy just ain’t ‘mensch.’

Okay… So the point of this whole ramble begins here. When I first got wind of what the price of admission to the True Colors Exposed thingie was going to be, something that I would have loved to attend had it been just a tad more affordable… I did some number crunching. Just figuring for the classes during three-day event, assuming that there will be 15 participants per class, per venue day, per instructor (7 ), at an average of $214 cost per participant (factoring in early registration and late registration costs), and not factoring in incidental costs vs. revenue (I figure the booths will pay for themselves, if participants who haven’t signed up for the whole thing will shell out $15 per booth to do the make-n-takes), I came up with $67,410 gross revenue for the three days. Now I don’t know what kind of resources they need to round up in order to make this thing happen (i.e., rent more space, hire some temporary help to man booths, city permits for booths, etc.), but say they had to shell out $6000 for travel and expense costs for the teachers, and another $9,450 for the participants for food, goodie bags and use of other supplies, with $125 set aside for the teachers per student ($39,375 ) that still nets $12,585 to the venue organizers, NOT counting product and kit sales. My calculations are all hypothetical, but…

Yeah, and I know that organizing such a thing can be a major pain in the ass, but then it’s not like your putting on a plumber convention… it’s for an *art* event, which, all things considered, should be worth the time and energy expended for all the FUN even the organizer(s) will have. And of course the ensuing publicity and prestige doesn’t suck either.

I think that the carnival atmosphere might be appreciated by some, but I felt that I would rather pay $125 to take a class with my preferred instructor (though even that is still on the steep side for me, but after all, I *would* be paying for the “renown” factor), peruse the sights a bit before or after the class and then be on my way. That would have been how I would have preferred to spend my time and money, anyway.

Meanwhile, I’m still waiting for the real estate bubble to burst here in So. Cal… I may be waiting a looong time.

Purpose

Do you ever get the feeling that greatness is in your periphery, but as soon as you move your head to gaze at it directly, it shifts again, there, but only just out of reach? I get this feeling often, particularly when I try to pin down my ‘purpose.’

As with most, I have many purposes–to raise a child, to earn a living, to fulfill the role of wife and mother, but what I’m talking about is that THING that I was created and put here to do.

That purpose. That thing. If I could only pin it down, life would go much more smoothly. At least I’d know what to pay attention to… what to foster… what to focus on. Besides all of the other things.

Music therapy… or something

I’m hooked up to my headphones, plugged in to my iMac. We went for some burgers for dinner tonight and on the way home a song from Metallica come on the radio. I cranked up the volume, and my 9-year old protested. It inspired me to dig out our Black Album Metallica CD and listen to the whole album. I have everything from Metallica to Enya in my CD collection, so I tune into whatever music fits my mood.

I remember my first experience with Metallica. I was heavily into disco/dance/alternative music at the time. I tagged along with my parents to one of their card playing nights. The hosts’ kid was enamoured with the band, and insisted on sharing. It was their debut album, and I thought it was just so much noise-the stuff made me nauseous. Hmmm. It would only be much later when I finally came to appreciate the genre, and understood the need that it fulfilled. It was the musical equivalent of Van Gogh.

Metallica was among my favorite commuting bands, right up there with Offspring, Incubus, Staind. If I’m going to be pissed I might as well rock out. I don’t have much of a commute anymore. In fact, I can brag that it takes me all of 7 minutes to get from door to parking structure. I think it’s karma… retribution for all of the damned commuting I’ve done over the last couple of decades. But… I’ve been feeling so tired lately that some head banging might be in order. Surprised? Well… I’m old, but I’m not *that* old.

I always thought that as I aged my taste in music would change. It has simply expanded to encompass almost all types of music, and I enjoy all of it equally. Thankfully, the expansion stopped short of country & western, which I still can’t seem to cultivate an appreciation for.

I’m having trouble creating art. I’ve got some attention deficit issues right now. I’m so focused during the day at the office that I’m fully out of gas when I get home. I’m working my ass off again–every time I think things are getting easier, I’m smacked back down… “no chick, you’re going to work hard for that bacon.” C’mon lotto!

My art comes from a source deep within me, and when I lose touch with that center, I can’t seem to create. It’s been a few months now, but that connection is barely there right now; I feel so depleted that I can’t seem to reestablish a link. I’m feeling wordy… words lead me back to where I need to go. Maybe that’s the tack I need to take.

This weekend proved productive. I finally cleaned my closet out, moved stuff around and *dusted*! Egads was there a ton of dust in the bedroom! I got rid of half the clothes in my closet (and a good chunk which have been in a big box for over a year, waiting to be sorted through). I relocated my family altar, happy that it is finally dust free and restored. Maybe that’s my starting point. The need to reexamine my relationship with my parents, and their relationships with each other and my sister, hovers like a dank cloud.

An old childhood friend called me tonight. A long-term relationship and two-kids later, she now finds herself alone, sharing custody of the children with her ex, who’s already shacked up with someone (he left the day before Christmas eve last year). Now at mid-life, she has to rebuild her life. How far we’ve come, and yet, are we where we thought we’d be? Did we really think about where we were going? Nahhhhhhh…

Raw Art Project (Day 4)


Self-portrait, soft pastel

Well, moving forward with the color theme, I decided to pull out my pastels. These pastels are awesome to work with (they’re Sennelier pastels a l’ecu) but they are, as the box states, soft. As with many of my art supplies, I have a ton of materials that I’ve purchased but never used (or rather, fully exploited to their maximum potential) because I either didn’t (and may still not) know how to use them fully, or for fear that I would “waste” the materials while experimenting, and some of the materials were quite costly. Fear and the creative process simply do not mix. Sometimes you’ve just gotta jump in, head first.

Raw Art Project (Day 3)


Self-portrait, Gocco print

Well, I promised color and here it is. After a year’s worth of hesitation, I finally decided to pull out my Gocco printer and give it a whirl (though I’ve been ordering paints for it for the last couple of weeks specially for this momentous event). I shot some digi photos of myself and then brought them in to Photoshop. I wanted to print on black paper, using pearlescent paints, so I manipulated the image somewhat and then printed it out as a negative on my laser printer.

After several trys and duds (like not putting a sheet of cardstock underneath the original when I was flashing my master, resulting in an interesting, though unwanted, square graph pattern on the master), I finally got a master that I was pleased with. I printed and trashed many prints, and finally ended up with nine I was happy with. Here’s one of them.

How that I’ve finally tried the darned thing, I’m seeing the potential… just need to figure out how to get Photoshop to do what I am envisioning in my mind, so that I can print out the originals to make the masters with.