Robin Kent Art

Hidden Potential Uncovered

2012-02-29T08:58:00.000-05:00

'2009 Supremes: Ruth and Sonia Give Their Opinion'

©robin r kent

Sometimes new subjects morph into the unexpected while I'm still at work (and in the dark) on the initial idea.
Sometimes when I've posted flippant observations on my blog, they are answered by wiser points in the comment section. (I wonder how many 'aha' moments I have missed by not reading comments in blogs I follow?) There's only so much time, but will try to be more observant when there.
Like painting or other creative endeavors, those layers make a subject beckon. Pieces with surprise twists and turns wind up much richer than the initial concept. (This piece started as 2 men talking on a park bench... and anyone has the potential to be president in my world, also.)

Folk Art Diary: Coffee, Tea, or Espresso?

2012-02-21T21:38:00.001-05:00

'Crossing the Line'
Acrylic, wood, wire wall assemblage

©robin r kent

My drink of choice changes depending on my mood, my goals, and my health.
Recently it's been tea all the way. It's great when you have a cold. No sharp edges. Lulls you to sleep and reminds you of the gentler things in life. Isn't it funny how your mind thinks when feeling sick? Things you wouldn't give a thought to become stuck as ruminations and won't leave. Like another germ. Time takes on a different proportion. Tea helps remind you of better days to come.
Coffee is my social drink. Talks with my mother in the morning over coffee is a family tradition. In the 1948 movie, 'I Remember Mama,' they were constantly making or offering coffee. It's good for meetings, office time, open houses. It's a bonding drink. Warm, and nice to be with, like a supportive friend. And forgiving like one also. Now where did I leave that cup? It travels well and keeps me focused while driving. Glad coffee doesn't have ears. It never criticizes my singing flat when I join in with the car radio, for stimuli at the end of a trip.
That's where expresso comes in. I'm a morning person. It puts the giddy up in me. I can think ahead and also sideways while working on an art piece. Pondering the potential options of using this stick or that, this color here or there, to define an assemblage or painting. I can picture my eyes turning into caffinated rotating spirals.
I like them all. They console and fill me up without being heavy (love that part-I can drink espresso without sugar!) while I take care other things. What a support system.

A Sailor's Dream

2012-02-15T08:46:00.000-05:00

'A Sailor's Dream' acrylic wall assemblage

courtesy Frog Hollow Gallery/7Days newspaper

I spent each summer 'cruising Maine' with friends many years ago. How would I know that as a staunch land lubber, I would look back so fondly on those days?
I think it comes from 'the stretch.' By that, I mean putting yourself in a situation that you might not have dreamed of, working hard on the coping mechanisms, learning a bit more than you knew before, and leaving a little richer for the experience.
'The Stretch' can be applied to any topic of your choosing. Art is always a good subject to start with. Some of the hardest lessons become the most cherished.

The Rare Sighting of A Native Skier

2012-02-07T21:05:00.001-05:00

'Native Skier' acrylic and wood assemblage

©robin r kent

Winter is still with us but the snow has been in hiding. Not to worry - February and March are usually our snowiest months anyway.

Even though Vermonters are born wearing skis, back in 'the day,' most didn't spend much time on the slopes. Too expensive. Snowshoeing was the winter sport of choice.

I live in the town where they once made Tubbs snow shoes. Tubbs made the best snow shoes. They're sold by L.L.Bean, EMS, etc. and were preferred by Admiral Byrd and Norman Vaughan on their trek to the South Pole.

I think they've had snow there.

Love Is In The Air

2012-02-01T16:10:00.000-05:00

'Tango Dancers' acrylic assemblage
(A Skunk or Nice Guy?)

©robin r kent

Ahh, can you tell love is in the air? Even though it's February, things are warming up. Valentines Day is approaching and it's skunk rutting season. Hard to ignore while driving rural highways, especially at night. That amorous Pepe Le Pew is everywhere.

I became familiar with skunks in February while living on Cape Cod. Many older homes don't have foundations and space between the sandy ground and floorboards to my bedroom made perfect skunk rendezvous habitat. It was squeal, spray, repeat. Nothing can describe the scent when experienced that closely. Not even a wet facecloth 'mask' helped teary eyes.

But through 'Skunk Movers R Us' (very un-PC, I know now) we learned they were just little nice guys that didn't see well. And you don't want to surprise them, trust me.

We became so proficient at relocation that we stopped using the old blanket to cover their 'have a heart' cage while in transit.

I'm still fond of Februarys even as their scent drifts by me now. Ahh, young love.

Folk Art Diary: The Wisdom of Sheep

2012-01-19T17:30:00.000-05:00

'The Wisdom of Sheep' acrylic on canvas
copyright robin r kent

Nature becomes partial to browns (my favorite color) this time of year. It is stick season, after all. Slim pickin's for a colorist.
This sheep portrait was painted midwinter a few years ago. I usually render them 'au naturel' but during this time frame I thought they could use a dye job. A little zip in the color wheel would cheer up most.

Why do sheep seem so all-knowing? Is it because they have been deemed the 'chosen ones' by artists and others alike from time immemorial? Were they given wisdom by sacrificial ancestors in exchange for their fate? They always look dignified even when dressed in pink.

Developing An Artist's 'Eye'

2012-01-12T07:12:00.000-05:00

'Hang In There' Acrylic on Boards

©robinrkent

Why do happy times seem so fleeting, difficult times last so long, and creative times have no sense of time at all?

My time away from painting has given me the perspective of a 'viewing audience member,' and not one as a working artist. I always thought I could 'step back' and view works objectively, but never have from this time distance. Who knew a different sort of art appreciation would be gained by not painting!?

Fur Collar Days

2012-01-03T11:17:00.000-05:00

'Fur Collar' Acrylic on rough wood

©robin r kent

Yet another post in the
'Artist as Nurse' Series:

While things are getting better, I have a ways to go before operating on a normal schedule. But it helps me to know the rest of my world is still the same. I'm reassured of this when I look at the cats.
Their faces tell me they know something's different, but they're still okay. Is there wisdom in their wildness? Funny how critters can console you where no words can reach.
Warm fur can be a comfort to the soul. Too bad they can't offer some professional art direction advice as well.

May the Force Be With You

2011-12-21T18:15:00.000-05:00

'We Are Stardust' Assemblage with Acrylic paint

©robin r kent

Even though this holiday season isn't going the way I expected, I still feel its unassuming, familiar spirit this time of year. Maybe it's the early darkness that gives focus to the bigger picture, or maybe it's the stillness that accompanies it. Whichever, it dwarfs my energy with its magnitude, and I like that.
A similar judgement is used when choosing subjects for my next piece. I consider different traits: some grandiose, some meek. I had done a few pieces - assemblage and paintings - of a mystical nature a while ago and it was surprisingly rewarding. Might be time to revisit that, especially this season.
Will try to put it on my 'to do' list. Before the springtime comes.

Folk Art Diary: Pillow and Art Questions to Sleep On

2011-12-17T08:37:00.000-05:00

'Sunday Morning' assemblage Acrylic on plaque

@robin r kent

Continuing notes from my 'Artist as Nurse' series (see two previous posts.)

My pillow is my most important sleep partner. Soft, hard, chubby or extra long, its position is key to comfort. Each person has his/her own preference. But trying to help another with subtle position changes is no small thing. After a while I began to 'read' what might help: pull a pillow here, loosen a blanket there.

It's the same when painting or creating assemblages. A slight change in color or proportion can make a piece sing, or, will stop and shift focus to the 'uncomfortable' part of the work. Is it an organic sense we feel when interpreting artwork? How do we know such things intuitively?

Lowly Thoughts Far From the Studio

2011-12-09T15:19:00.001-05:00

mermaid

©robin r kent

Even though I'm away from the shop, (see previous post) I can still go to it mentally and float through the process I use when creating a new piece. We can dream, can't we?
Mentally I stroke the grains on my antique boards. Always love the feel and texture of aged wood. Its pedigree used to mean the most to me. The most valuable wood I have are the boards from former barns. Even though they are not large enough for other uses now, the full dimension, hand sawn, vintage pieces add depth to my work, and are an art form in itself.
But I have a new love also. Its name is plywood. I love plywood because it allows my drawings to become art. Because its grain goes in both directions, I can cut circles and waves without worry of them breaking along the grain. Like a permissive parent, it lets me venture into the unknown to find my own (or its) limitations. I keep threatening to jump to the good ship 'Polymer', but plywood brings me back to the woodlands. I am now a former plywood snob.
The other unsung hero I find all around me whether in the studio or at the kitchen sink is the lowly rag, Like the barn boards, I always acknowledge its former life first. Some used to be my pajamas. Others were favorite beach towels. Recalling happy times as it scours the sink, cleans brushes. A useful second life in its retirement. We all should be so lucky.

No Pot Roast Around Thanksgiving

2011-12-02T11:44:00.000-05:00

Woman at Rest Box

©robin r kent

Well, Thanksgiving didn't turn out as planned. While taking a pot roast out of the freezer, my mother was subject to the laws of gravity and keeled over backwards. The pot roast was for the next night's dinner and needed time to thaw. As my sister-in-law stated, 'They say red meat can be harmful to your health.'
Will be back in touch as soon as I change from nursing cap to blogger/artist apron. Here's wishing a Merry holiday season and better New Year to you all, spoken a might early.

Two Ways of Looking at Art

2011-11-20T14:27:00.000-05:00

'When Spike Met Spot'
Acrylic on Antique Barn Board

©robin r kent

I recently read in an art magazine a comment on how any original creative work is always the interpretation of the artist. The gist was even photo realism artists looking at the same subject will paint it differently. A good observation I thought.

Thinking it out a little further, the same holds true at the other end - with the observer. Some art I think mundane, while other viewers go gaga; naive, contemporary folk art connects with me, others think unfinished or childish. Go figure. Something for everyone.

I suppose it’s best to start with a healthy appreciation of the basics and to master them: drawing, composition, and color theory are the ones I notice. Every work needs to have a proficiency of one or some of them to be successful. But after that, what?

It’s taken me years to loosen up and find my style. I’m willing to keep the parts I like and expand on the rest. Loose rules. That’s the nice thing about art. Whatever works goes. Or, go with whatever works.

How many Robin Kents are there?

2011-11-14T11:04:00.000-05:00

Vanity Box
Mixed Media

©robin r kent

I know I have a common name. But I feel connected to it since I've had it for soooooo long.
And feel like I own it. All mine. But after looking into my blog neighbors (last post), now I'm wondering how many other Robin Kents are there?

I know there is an artist in Washington D.C. http://photographybykent.com Fabulous in his own medium. And Robin Kent, a marketing and advertising professional in New York City is probably located the closest to me. Another Robin Kent is a British Architecture and Conversationist, now located in Scotland. http://www.robinkent.com Then there's Dr. Robin Kent. A consultant in the plastics industry. I think most Robin Kents are men.

I wonder what else we have in common. I wonder if they see things the way I do. I wonder if they'd like my art.

Surfing My Blogspot Neighbors

2011-11-08T10:48:00.000-05:00

Neighbors
Mixed Media

©robin r kent

Babies, quilters, musicians, knitters, photographers, and someone who had been removed. Wonder what for? What kind of blog was that about?!!
I'm curious how the blog powers decide to group us. Is it by chronological order when we first started our blog? I know it's not by subject matter. Not in any kind of order that I can tell. And does it shuffle around every time you sign on, like a deck of cards? I have a hard enough time keeping my own papers in order. Must be something only the Giant Cyberspace Pumpkin knows.
I always have to search for the artists. Never can see enough art.
Artist connections through the blog have been deeply humbling. I have found truly gifted artists I would never have met any other way. Their art is fantastic and their writings and/or literary knowledge enlightening. Check out some of my kindred colleagues on my 'follow' list. Some are contemporary folk, naive, outsider artists in the same category as my work. Others are artists whose media or word style I'd like to experiment with someday.
I appreciate our friendship. They add a richness to my quiet life in the shop.

November 1 Day of the Dead Art

2011-10-31T20:51:00.000-04:00

Bucket of Garden Jesters
(keeps the evil garden hose away from
your flowers)
Can you tell which one is alive?

©robin r kent

I love the Day of the Dead art. One of many categories in the folk art genre. To me, it's the pinnacle of what folk art can be.
Even though I'm a New England folk artist, where restaint and limited affect is the style, I sometimes secretly desire to be a Latina folk artist where flourishes, over the top embellishment, and highlights in outrageous colors flowing freely from the heart, is the norm.
And I'm comfortable with the subject matter. Often I feel surrounded by other worldly spirits as I work. Maybe because some of my work is suggestive of real beings as I glimpse quickly around my workshop or studio. Another group of collectors appreciating my work. Some are more alive than others and always stand out amongst their brethern. They give suggestions or solutions if I'm open to their whispers.
So just when you are over Halloween, here's the next event celebrating all seen and unseen facets of our collected humanity. Long live the Day of the Dead.

My Professional Halloween Outfit

2011-10-23T19:22:00.000-04:00

'Trick or Treat Man' wood wall assemblage

©robin r kent

It is a ritual getting ready for Halloween. It's also something I do everyday. But I figure it substitutes easily as a good Halloween outfit. Here's how it goes:
First, the splinters. My hands wouldn't be in costume without them. It can be obtained by working continually on wood assemblage. Many make a better effect. Best to start a week or so early. (When was my last tetanus shot?) They can be embellished by fingertips painted with black primer or exterior house paint. It's usually applied while holding an art piece as I paint all sides.
Then, the ear protectors. Makes a good first impression. They are the large, old fashioned kind. Sort of like the headphones we used to wear back in the 70's but instead of blasting music, they only permit you to listen to yourself breathing.
Which brings me to the next part: the face mask. I think this is the piece de resistance. There's nothing like the combined vision of ear and face protection to send the cats running. Very effective. Of course, turning on the power saw doesn't hurt either. More atmosphere. When donning the face mask, I like the way it makes my hair stand on end. And the sawdust/wood chips add highlights. They are continually applied during the multiple 'on and offs' necessary while in costume.
Now the clothes can be more creative. A woodworker's apron with many layers of multicolored paint is considered the little black dress of the outfit. Many times it is worn over flannel pajamas, sans foundation, with mismatched oversized socks. The ability of the socks to pick up sawdust and grit give them an animalistic allure.
There you have it. An astonishing vision to trick or treaters on either side of the door.

Folk Art Diary: Artist's Sketchbooks and Recipe Files

2011-10-16T13:31:00.002-04:00

'Bouillabaisse' Assemblage Shadowbox,
wood with acrylic paint

Sketchbooks are like photo albums of your past.
I have one from a lifetime ago when I traveled with little money but carried a big, beautiful, oversized, black, bound, blank sketchbook. It was intimidating putting the first mark in it. Didn't want to ruin it. Now glad I did.
Funny how I remember sketching on each page. Hot or cold, sunny or grey, company or alone. Even remember friends' side comments while drawing. Recalling those conversations now give new meaning to what was said then. The years added gravitas to flippant remarks. All recalled while I look at these drawings. Didn't realize the peripherals were being recorded, too.

My recipe file evokes a similar nostalgia with handwritten recipes from friends and relations. The Palmer method script my grandmother used to explain how to make cinnamon buns. Many have departed, but their personalities remain written in these formulas now found under spatter stains. I see them puttering in the kitchen, pointing out culinary secrets as they stir.

Deeper Than It Might Seem

2011-10-09T22:09:00.002-04:00

'Princess and the Pea' wood assemblage

I always wished I could be a musician

and sing as freely as Dylan.

To perform live - in front of strangers even - who understood perfectly.

Doing it my way,

never having to change a note.

Guess a painter it is then.

Same initial evolutions: from puppet, pauper, pirate,

to poet. Put down on paper.

Change. Begin again. No one knowing the final creation

- revealed for all to see -

isn't exactly as I always intended it to be.

If it doesn't move, paint it

2011-10-02T09:24:00.000-04:00

Painted Turtle rocks

©robin r kent

I walked around with a paint brush aimed at everything, figuratively speaking.

The cards said I would work in a 'earth-based' medium. What did that mean? I knew I could capture what I saw, but then, what manner and means to describe it? My options for what to paint and what to paint ON expanded.

Rabbit & Raccoon rocks

©robin r kent

Scandinavian-French Country style Cupboard?

©robin r kent

I added painted rocks (remember that era?). I still have some untouched in my cellar.

Monet's Rocker

I had dabbled in painting furniture before, but it took hold when I met Jim. He repaired old furniture found here and there. Painting on surfaces other than canvas was fun for me. Like condoned graffiti?

I painted sailing ships on bureaus, farm scenes on sideboards. I decorated new pieces he built on commission in Scandinavian, French Country, and Rufus Porter styles.

My hand loosened up. As well as my mind. Many surfaces, but I kept searching.

As we got older, the pieces became smaller. (I still paint children's furniture.) Shards of furniture are the perfect size for assemblages and sculptures. Not as hard to move as a 8 foot cupboard. That satisfied my three dimensional creative urge.
Whatever 'earth-based' surface is the right choice, if not canvas or stone, then it's wood. For now.

Folk Art Diary: Time Check

2011-09-26T20:46:00.001-04:00

'Cat on the Tablecloth' Acrylic on boards

©robin r kent

Falling into the new season. Such a color-rich, earthy, mournful season. And often taken for granted. You can look past it, down the time tunnel, and into the new year.

It's the beginning of the annual art crunch. One seasonal clock tick closer to the mother of all deadlines. Sometimes winter is too long; fall is always too short. And it comes with an extra long 'to do' list.

Paintings and sculpture deserve much time now. I have a list of projects promised to be finished before year's end. And the clock doesn't do the 'fall back' trick until early November. Even though it's a 'free' hour, it's too far away.

The cats sense the change as well. The windows they sit in are now sometimes closed. What a surprise for them to find that out mid-air. All those rustling leaves just might be hordes of tiny wildlife on the other side of the screen door.
They keep tabs on the time frames for daily routines. I'm sure they wear wristwatches under their furry sleeves. They know when dinner is expected, to the minute. Maybe it's stop watches they wear instead. I never need an alarm clock. That's their job.

Baseball has been very very good to me...

2011-09-20T20:27:00.001-04:00

Wall-Relief Pitcher

©robin r kent

Roberto Clemente? Chico Escuela on Saturday Night Live? Sammy Sosa?

Whoever said it first doesn't matter. Next to making art, it's my favorite professional sport.

The processes of both are similar: getting lost in its slowness, but noticing the quick nuances. Building on itself, keeping the interest of what might happen next. The quirks and personal ticks being part of the fabric making up the whole.

Then reflecting on what was done in the following days. What could have been done differently.

Some become classics like the vision of Carlton Fisk's waving his ball fair: the game winning run in the 12th inning of the '75 World Series.

I live in a divided baseball family in this section of New England. Part is Yankee territory, part Red Sox nation. That made it hard to decide what uniform to put on my wall Relief Pitcher (right).
I switched back to being the artist and made up my own team colors. After all, it is my team. Next year we're going to win the Series. Love those Boys of September.

Signs Among Us, part 2

2011-09-14T09:00:00.003-04:00

Gallery barn door & breezeway; kitchen porch
currently being renovated. Old 'Artisans
at the Bend' sign above window. We're closed for now. Note
Christmas lights at the ready. A Vermont tradition.

Just like a serial movie with a 'really, really likes me' theme, I've been encouraged to show more of the signs I've done locally. I think this should suffice.

I'll start at home. While the side of our barn/gallery gets updated, the 'hand' sign directing visitors near the door stays intact. I've run from the other end of the house to answer the call, hearing 'eighty five, eighty six...'

Caption on arm says it all...

This XL piece has been swinging on our
porch for years. We leave it out as an
example of housepaint durability

Here are others around town:

'Art in the Snow' open studios is held one weekend
a month January-March. Fellow artists helped make
copies of my prototype and placed them around town.
Larger than life, they add a presence to the winter population.

This sign was outside a few years ago as a supplement
to the Artist Guild's annual project, called 'Sunflowers.' It was
in a public setting ready for a photo op similar to the Shelburne Museum's
sign (previous post). Fellow artist Patty, pattysgrecci.com shows how its done.

'The Inside Scoop' sign announces their
real fruit smoothies. It was helpful to taste-test
the raspberry (my favorite) made of real fruit. The sign
color was matched to it. brandon.org/insidescoop

Lastly, I painted this HUGE 'picture frame' - the opening is the size
of a narrow door - for part of a stage set honoring our town's
famous folk artist, Warren Kimble. Bet you recognize his work.
Again, no picture when it was up in lights. It's not really a sign,
but one of my favorites, as is he. http://warrenkimble.com/

Signs Among Us

2011-09-10T12:57:00.005-04:00

©robin r kent

Sandwich board for Cafe Provence
leading to the upstairs entrance
http://cafeprovencevt.com

©robin r kent

My show in the window at Frog Hollow Gallery

Garden Goddess sign on Rt 7, directing traffic to the shop
www.thegardengoddess.net

I hear the leaves whirling in the driveway. A sign of things to come. The change in season is echoed by the changes in my shop and barn. Exterior repairs to what nature tore down. Interior editing has been a goal for years (see my first blog entry 3/17/11) but never has come to pass -
until now.

Cafe Provence's citroen 2cv truckette
sporting my illustration of Chef Robert

Jim is in mourning as he says goodbye to many of his objets trouves. He has such a good eye; there are many still being kept. I'll be able to put them to use in future folk art assemblages.

Speaking of signs, here are some photos of signs I made for local venues. I'll need to make a new sign for my reassembled gallery, too.

My brother and his wife testing the sign in my shop
for the Shelburne Museum (notice Callie, bottom left)

Shelburne Museum Circus sign in place

My 'Open' sign with my art in the window
at the Brandon Artists Guild

©robin r kent

Quite A Sight

2011-09-03T17:55:00.017-04:00

Courtesy Burlington Free Press

Here's downtown during 'Tropical Storm' Irene's visit to Vermont. The state took a hit with my town being an unwilling star.
The river jumped the bridge and took the road instead.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/incredible-pictures-of-irenes-destruction-in-verm
My studio/barn and home were not affected - we live a couple of blocks up river - except that it was eerily quiet to have no traffic on the street. And sights I won't soon forget.
Amazing that within a week, the building worst affected was moved, (we lost 4) the road repaved, the bridge cleared. The opening at the Brandon Artists Guild www.brandonartistsguild.org went on, followed by a town wide turnout for some live music in the park's bandstand. Love 'dem strong Vermonters. www.brandon.org

Saws 'R Us

2011-08-23T15:16:00.002-04:00

The now improved, freshly outfitted bandsaw,
my favorite artist tool (with art associate, Remus)
Below: Queen of Hearts, before and after

There I was on Cindi's blog www.oldblackcatboo.blogspot.com with friend and fellow artist, Sandy Mastroni www.smastroni.blogspot.com

I never would have thought our connection, other than art, was the use of saws, shared by all three of us.

Of course, everyone knows power tools are the tie that bind women together. Just not a Kitchen Aid mixer in this case.

And only yesterday I was getting even more intimate with my bandsaw after a bearing froze. Only knew from a distance what either of those terms meant, but I know better now.

After disassembling much of my saw, I gave up and called the tech department for assistance. Didn't want to strip the screw I was trying to loosen with all my might. The man on the other end of the line confirmed, in a husky southern drawl, that what I was doing was correct. He had to repeat this a couple of times before my ear attuned to his accent. So now I can interpret toolspeak with a southern drawl. You never know what you're going to learn next.

Walking with Robert Frost

2011-08-13T19:08:00.004-04:00

'Down the Road' Acrylic on Antique Vermont Barnboard

©robin r kent

Went for a short walk collecting sticks for future sculptures near Robert Frost's cabin in the woods. I had been at his cabin a while ago (years), and wanted to see how it was faring. Mr. Frost would be proud. It's beautiful and looks the same.

Then on to its neighbor, Middlebury College Bread Loaf School of english, where graduate courses in literature and teaching of writing, creative writing, and theater arts are offered. Another gracious old beauty.

I am rediscovering a new respect for words. Not mine. And not that I'm a big reader. On the contrary, short art articles (with pictures) are my favorite. Followed by poetry. That's where Robert Frost fits in. As we sat where he and others worked to capture that perfect word, I couldn't help but think of my dangling participles, incomplete sentence fragments, and dependent clauses ricocheting above us in cyberspace, raining down on this beautiful, word-loving campus. I felt the need for a broom.

'Raining Cats and Dogs'...

2011-08-10T11:14:00.005-04:00

My artwork waiting pickup by its new owner

...is the title of the second annual animal art show now going on at The Framers Market, Manchester, New Hampshire.

My Dog-Tired Catch-All box (left)

And they're giving a portion of the proceeds to the Animal Rescue League of N.H.

I was glad to be part of it since I love their taste in art.

And I love companion animals.

Especially homeless ones.

'Well behaved pets' are invited to attend, too.

Live work of art looking for an owner

The Rescue League brought some of its viewing audience to survey possible future human owners. Hope they found a few.

It's a good thing the gallery is too far away for me to attend or I'd be coming home with something 3D in addition to a piece of sculpture.

The show runs through September 9th.

1301 Elm Street, Manchester NH

It's Not What You Think

2011-08-03T22:17:00.003-04:00

'Multitasking Bachelor Sailor' wall assemblage

©robin r kent, photography Tad Merric

This time of year, my mind has a hard time staying on task. So many opportunities, so many things to do. So many things needing to be done. Many layers. I can become easily distracted but my inner compass nags me about how far I'm veering off course.
When I finally land in the studio, and start wrestling with a new art assemblage or sculpture, I find what I thought most important is not. And the unintentional peripheral experience is. It's not the work I learn from, but the play.
I'll paint something deliberately, only to find it was a chance brushstroke or wood shape that captured the elusive essence.
Unwittingly, I've found this observation useful in other aspects of life, too. Do one thing, learn something totally unexpected. Everyday a surprise.

Summer's Going Swimmingly

2011-07-23T23:23:00.000-04:00

'Bubbles'
Framed acrylic painting with assemblage

©robin r kent

With this kind of heat, it's great to be able to find a friendly water spot. Mine is a fresh water lake made from aquifers surrounded by trees, grass, and woods. I love the ocean, too, and miss its briny smell. Maybe someday we'll get as close again as we used to be.
The fresh water is warmer now and friendly to the skin. However, I've always had the hardest time diving in. All my friends could just 'cannonball' off the dock and get on with the water play. Not me. I had to suffer through a slow and steady walk into submersion. No shock allowed, and progress hit a major slowdown when cool water approached the midriff. Maybe I had to process it all before I could adjust to it?
Now when it comes to art, I love water based acrylic paint. (How's that for an unabashed segway?) No problem diving in. No smell, no messy clean up, and it only hits my gut in an emotional way.

Just like being a kid at the lake, I can play all day in that kind of water. After being bouyed up - weightless - in its magical maritime world, returning to land feels heavy; leaving it an adjustment. Good thing I know how to get back.

Eyes Notice Everything

2011-07-18T09:00:00.001-04:00

'Sea and Be Scene' assemblage sculpture

©robin r kent

When viewing art, eyes notice awkward colors, positions in portraits, thicknesses in bands of brush strokes, etc.
Then how come we can be so oblivious at other times?

Maybe that's the thing about art. It makes you look and holds your attention.
To me, learning 'how to look' means:
1. explaining how to stop the action of whatever is happening around you
2. see the art within it
3. understand how each section contributes to the whole, and
4. remember for future reference.
In a split second. No luxury of gazing at the subject in daily living, unless all you want to draw is attention. Other eyes notice everything, too.
It's the remembering part that is the most difficult to me. Especially as I get older. But it seems to seep back in an unconscious way when called upon at the easel or workbench. It's nice to know there's a part of me connecting with what I see even when I'm oblivious.

Art is Energy

2011-07-08T10:42:00.000-04:00

'Any Which Way' wood wall assemblage

©robin r kent

Picking up the paint brush is like picking up a magic wand. Sometimes you don't know what will come out at the other end. It can be explosive where you don't have to do much other than hold on loosely and let it go. But it can also be cranky, where you have to cajole what wants to come out. Vibrant is the easiest where you stand back and feel the warmth. Moody is the least understood, needing the most support, and can be the most gratifying in the end.

What all these have in common is energy. Creative energy to be more specific? A vibration bouncing off the canvas, wall or in the case of sculpture, standing on the floor next to you. Collectors have reaffirmed my feelings how some of my sculptures have their own presence. Like another person in the room. Trying to say something if given the chance. Yet always available to listen to your thoughts. Sometimes they can be delightful company, and other times surprise visitors when you forget for a moment they are there. That's happened more than once.

Like Geppetto, I'd like to be able to make exactly what I want, but not always get that in the end. Each piece has an energy of its own.

The Year of Thinking Creatively

2011-06-30T23:55:00.001-04:00

'Two for the Road'
acrylic paintng on antique barnboard

©robin r kent

Before it goes too far down the road, I thought I'd point out the longest day of the year was last Tuesday. Closely followed by the year's halfway point: today. Is it all just rolling by, or is it just the season?
For me, this year has unintentionally turned into the 'take stock' year. Evaluating what I've accomplished, what I like, and where I go (grow?) next. A good milestone for the 2011 halfway point timeline.
I'm comfortable in my primitive style, or is it more contemporary? Do I want to drop 'folk art' from my moniker? Does using it narrow my audience when they'd be more receptive to another term? Any suggestions?
Does painting on canvas dilute my existing body of work? What about tackling more 'serious' subjects without wry undertones?

In the meantime, I'll keep on pedaling and see what comes of all this. There is no roadmap so I'll have to listen to my inner backseat driver. I'll know if I took the right road after a few pieces are behind me. Hopefully before the end of the year.

Folk Art Diary: Music, food, and contemporary folk art. What an ensemble.

2011-06-24T15:18:00.003-04:00

'Jazz Piano Player' framed assemblage

©robin r kent

For some, modern and contemporary folk art can be similar to jazz music, in a way that when you see it, you like it. For others, maybe not. But I believe you can develop an appreciation for it.
In the culinary arts, if you're a gringo like me, it took small steps to appreciate Sriracha hot sauce. I've come to love Mexican food. And Thai. Of course, French. Actually I love all food. But what I thought was spicy is now mild.
It works the same way for music. I needed to hear the familiar. If it's got a good beat, I can dance to it. Goes right to my soul. I didn't 'get' Herbie Hancock at first. How can you dance to that? Now I drift along 'kind of blue' easily, painting alongside jazz greats (and smalls). Miles Davis is my musical version of Marc Chagall. Charlie Parker resembles Jackson Pollock. Guess I love music in the same way as food and art. Necessary part of life. Still have to work on my Opera chops, though. Gustav Klimt, maybe? (Want to suggest a visual artist to describe Bob Dylan?)
So, when scanning the artscene at it's dance, I find contemporary folk art in the corner, alone. How to catagorize it's persona? How to put the kind of art I paint/assemble/sculpt into words without people thinking of girls in profile with big bonnets when I add 'folk art' to the explanation? Yes, it is a melange of styles. Delightfully primitive, yet sophisticated, with a hint of visionary.

Maybe let people discover their taste for it a little at a time. There's such a rich of diversity on the contemporary folk art menu. Good thing it doesn't have any calories.

Dreams and other-worldly places

2011-06-15T20:49:00.002-04:00

'First Cup'
mixed media wall assemblage

©robin r kent

Last night, and for a few nights before that, I've had interesting, busy dreams. Many were thinly veiled metaphors for people and places from my past. It was nice to be in familiar surroundings visiting them again.
Another dream was just a bunch of busy work. That day's schedule had been over the top and I found myself matching socks in my sleep. It was the first time I can recall editing a dream in progress saying 'this is a waste of dreamtime' and starting a 'second feature' without really waking up.
I used to read Freud's 'Interpretation of Dreams' when younger, but now I just enjoy the ride. Who needs to go to the movies?
Many times my art problems can be solved there also. It's good to get some distance on them. There's a notebook next to my bed, but I usually remember anyway.
I fly a lot in my dreams. Always have since childhood. But I never flew too high and always had to 'peddle' to stay airborne. I must have learned that while swimming in flippers. It was handy. Still is.
Gravity is something I never took seriously. As a child in bed at night, I could look at my ceiling and think of it as a floor. I could mentally walk to my bedroom's threshold, which looked like a short wall in a submarine, step over it, and continue walking on the ceiling down the hallway. It was such a pristine surface with nice lighting. And so quiet no one could hear me. Try it. It's a good exercise.

Once when I had a childhood fever, I remember my mother kneeling at my feet offering me thin slices - like shiny needles or wires - that cut the air into three dimensional surfaces. She broke that dream by washing my face. I always remembered that invisible 3d concept of volume and came across it only once more as an adult. But that's a story for another night.

How do you dream? Any come true?

Time to say goodnight.

Folk Art Diary: Timing is Everything

2011-06-12T19:59:00.055-04:00

'Waiting for a Bite' acrylic on antique boards

©robin r kent

If there's one phrase I'd use to sum up my life, I'd say it's 'timing is everything.'
As I get older, I find myself using that as the final adage to every story, experience, lesson I've come across, first hand or not. It always fits.
I never was particularly aware of timing when I was younger. I'd get lost in something that captured my attention and have no recollection of how long I'd dwell on it. Cool early mornings in summer, fishing on the lake with my parents. Watching the red and white bobber drift for what seemed hours. Hoping for a bite, if the time was right.
As a teenager, I remember holding on to my friend's pocketbook as we walked through an art show or museum because if I let go, I'd be unable to keep pace. I easily fell into visual quicksand. Loved looking at art. It just felt right being there.
As an an art director, I watched as the copywriter had a new computer installed. This was the beginning of desktop publishing's glory days. That one computer could do things the whole production department took hours to do. The days of 'cut and paste' in galley form were numbered. But I couldn't get the hang of it. We didn't think of layout the same way. Who could blame it? Written in code... not the way I approach design. And it wasn't about to budge. Almost a karmic 'your time is up' for many of us oldstyle tradespeople. The world had shifted again into another time*.
So I was forced back to my fine art roots. Always a good place of retreat. Maybe it was a rebound way onto the path of creating folk art for the years since. All I know is the timing was right.
Do you find things more easy or difficult depending on the timing? Do you see the ebb and flow of events run through your life? Many divergent factors joining together at the same time?

*Finally got the jist of photoshop last year. Just had to wait for the timing to be right.

Folk Art Diary: Tilling the soil

2011-06-02T21:01:00.004-04:00

'Three Carrot Gardener' folk art wood garden sculpture

©robin r kent

I have to say I was taken by surprise to find one of my long ago paintings of crows on a beautiful site called www.crowaday.blogspot.com

Terry Davitt Powell displays sensitive, stunning art with crows always the subject. Loved looking at all the variety in themes a black bird can evoke.

This is the time I become aware of everything popping. The lilacs have gone whoshing by, and just as I started to mourn their scented passing, the mock orange flowers. With all the vernal explosions around me, how can I concentrate?
It's my busy time of year in all respects. I must avoid the distractions of hearing the grass growing, or deciding where to plant the raspberry patch, or courting too many Red Sox games.
It's time to dig deep. What to create? I've just begun to weed the brambles of my mind. And I know some unlikely volunteers always pop up. Any surprises for you?

Folk Art Diary: A Trip To The Candy er, Hardware Store

2011-05-31T21:27:00.001-04:00

'Milkman' folk sculpture

©robin r kent

I remember being dragged along as a six year old or so, doing Saturday errands with my father. One of the most dreaded stops for me was the hardware store. 'Too much stuff with too little color (dull grey), and what was the point of it all?,' I thought. How boring.
When I grew up I found myself still as the companion in hardware store stops. My energy immediately drained when we hit the threshold. It was a man's world in my mind. Let's get outta here. How boring.
But as I grew into creating contemporary folk art, I found I was missing the tools and thing-ys needed to make the wood sculpture and assemblages do what I wanted. I gradually understood those thing-ys had names and functions.
Come to think of it, the workbench in my family's basement belonged to my grandmother. She was the daughter of a Swedish boatbuilder turned carpenter. Must have some of that dna. My favorite childhood toy was the wooden cobbler's shoe: you'd bang the (colorfully painted) dowels down into the sole and then flip it over and hammer again.

Self Portrait with Tools

©robin r kent

It all began to fit together. Um, maybe not so boring.......

I started to notice what a difference 1/4 inch of a screw length can make when it bores into your palm. Or how a dull bandsaw blade can set off the fire alarm without any notice.* And the classic purple thumbnail caused by a misguided hammer, or my favorite moniker for it's cousin: 'the persuader'. No wonder they call some folk art 'naif' or 'naive art' and 'art brut.' Not boring at all.
My bookkeeper thinks it funny that under 'Artist Supplies' I have the following listed:
band saw blades, exterior screws, fastener bits, panel nails, washers, baling wire. Well, bailing wire in Vermont, anyway. All these little silver thing-ys have a function. When I see them now in their boxes hanging on the store display, I can picture them already doing their job.

Glad to be part of a profession where some of it's skill comes from evolution and intuition. How 'bout you?

*It lends an atmospheric mood to the shop with low hanging clouds of smoke - a similar ambience can be found in my kitchen while I sear a steak in a cast iron pan.)

4-Eyes View the World

2011-05-19T18:04:00.001-04:00

Vermont Ain't Flat Acrylic on Masonite

I just got new glasses. With all the bells and whistles. These lenses do everything but wash the dishes. First, they are the new and improved prescription which had been longed for for too long. (Newly retired ones were circa 2007.) Have you noticed when you get new glasses, your eyes are not in sync? Gives me a 'fresh eye' when objects look like they're in a 3D movie. Everything slopes downhill. The ground sure ain't flat. They also change color with the sun and the lens line disappears between the distance and reading part. I'll look like a movie star and a lot younger in these babies. Especially when I take them off to check. Yep, still dewy complexion with no age lines...
But I've always loved my earliest memories of not seeing well. Such sweet fuzzy views of the world. I finally got glasses around the third grade and what I saw wasn't pretty. I was forced to face reality. These were not your rose colored glasses.
Gone were the soft-focused pastel colors of sky and clouds, of tree leaves and grass. For the first time, I saw the grass and all its blades. I could almost see each santoku edge and imagine my father sharpening them one at a time during Sunday's predinner ritual. All nature had turned against itself - diamond reflections on the water that cut, and again too bright; light and dark colors competing against each other. No more blending into one. Why can't we all get along? It hurt to look.
That experience has made my contemporary painting style what it is. When I'm creating in my contemporary folk art world, the favored element is volume. Guess it has to be when I do sculpture. OK - in painting, I like mass the best. And blending. Milton Avery paints how I choose to see. Big blocks of mass with soft edges. Nothing persnickety. No minutia. Well, can't resist some dots or graphic additions at the end...but I never was an edgy person.

Art Zen: Go Slow

2011-05-11T11:14:00.000-04:00

'Meditation Box' Commission piece

I was tickled to find myself as 'Guest Artist' on Folk Art Mary's blog just a day ago. Although we're different, Mary and I create folk art out of wood. I felt like I hit the jackpot coming across her blog. And I recognize some of her previous guests as artists I have long admired. I'm a starry-eyed folk art groupie.

Back to earth. With the start of the season here in Vermont, I've morphed my artist persona into a car jockey, squeezing in new work deliveries. (April 2nd post) There's only so much one can do in a day. Blog or drive? I've begun to not push as hard. I allow myself the time.
So now I'm mulling over my current quandary: time. How to use it wisely to still get important things done. Like a circus clown's long balloon, I squeeze at one end and it slips away. I'd rather it be like a log of salami, and cut it in chunks. Nope. Doesn't work that way.
The last decade or so, the cultural goal was 'big'. Bigger houses, living large, etc. Now it seems the word is 'fast'. Multi-tasking, multi-texting. Less sleep, more goals.
But that seems to be slowly changing too. I've become a guilt free member of the slow movement. I've always had the potential. And the proof is I lose track of time while puttering in the barn workshop. That's the charm of being an artist. Call it 'problem solving' while it is really 'day dreaming'? Useful time? Guess so, when it shows up somewhere down the road in future projects. What other job can say that? "Oh, no problem - take your time and just tinker around..."
And I've watched others looking at my art. It slows them down too. The long meditative pause possibly turning into a small grin. Maybe that's part of the attraction for art lovers. Art Zen. A visual meditation.

Close companions

2011-04-29T19:29:00.003-04:00

'The Kiss'
Acrylic/Mixed Media on Wood Sculpture

Even before I start a new piece of art, I get happy. It's sort of like love. Magical or maternal.
The giddy anticipation of what's to come. Like spring or Christmas. And here I go like the seven dwarves whistling off to work at my art.
It doesn't matter what shape it comes in - paintings, assemblages, or sculptures - I form a unique relationship with each one. But some can be more unique than others. Not all are hearts and flowers.

Large 'Momma Box'
Acrylic/Mixed Media on Wood

Some works can turn into significant others - challenging you to think creatively to obstacles they present. Like a wrestling match. In the end, we both emerge intact and a little more mature: they've accomplished what I had intended: 'looking fine.' And I've learned a bit more about tenacity without losing the vision. (By the way, don't try this at home - it doesn't work on real people. They can be their own piece of work.)

'Coming of Age'
Acrylic on rough wood

And some can be like offspring. They want to please. We bond. It bonds. I mean sometimes the sculptural elements of the wood just fit magically together. The lesson there is not to use excessive amounts of bonding or overwork it.
In astrology, the fifth house represents creativity: having children and/or making art. Many famous women artists only created art. Georgia O'Keeffe comes to mind immediately. Marilyn Monroe, Jane Austin, Chanel, Julia Child, Emily Dickinson, and that great woman artist of maternal intimacy, Mary Cassatt. The muse as suitor and/or offspring. Go figure. The nice thing is whatever form they take, they're all good for the soul.

Rabbit Run

2011-04-23T00:05:00.006-04:00

'Rabbit Run' wall assemblage
reclaimed lumber, house paint

The Easter bunny is caught in the crosshairs this holiday season. How interesting it didn't have any initial association with Christianity. (Its start was in pre-Christian fertility folklore.) But it couldn't outrun destiny and merged with the chocolate bunny. Do you bite off the ears first, too?
Nevertheless, this critter will be on people's minds a little longer. The next full moon is the Hare Moon (May 17, 2011).
The moon's symbol in Chinese tradition is - the rabbit. (The peacock represents the sun). Together they are the Yin (moon) and Yang. The rabbit (Yin) holds the magic and strength of the heavens. Look up on the next full moon night and take it in.
The Chinese Zodiac keeps it in the spotlight longer still. This is the year of the Hare, or Rabbit. A Hare (Rabbit) Year is supposed to nurture a time of calm, renewal, good taste and comfort. Can't we all use some of that?

I've used 'hare' or 'rabbit' interchangeably so far, but I've read you shouldn't confuse them. The difference being rabbits are born hairless and hares are born, well, you know. Hares also run faster and don't freeze in place when frightened. Not sure how well those bunnies would keep in the freezer then. Chocolate gets a coat of white on it if you do that. Called a sugar bloom.

At this time of year, with all this attention on them, I can imagine rabbits/hares/bunnies would like to be laying low about now (but that's for the chicken discussion).

Easter eggs also have a pagan background....

'Black Dotted White Chicken'

wall assemblage

antique barn board, electrical wire, dowels, house paint

Folk Art Diary: My Mistake

2011-04-17T22:07:00.009-04:00

Miami Coquette, 1998

Art is a series of making mistakes. And that's a good thing. Making mistakes in life - I'm not sure if it's such a good thing there.
It's much more fun making mistakes while creating folk art. Mistakes feel right at home in the folk art genre. I think it's an integral part of the folk art legacy. Folk art owns it. And proud of it. Even shows it off.
As I continue along my art path, mistakes become testaments to having given another possibility a chance. We all deserve that, so why not a blob of paint? A hole drilled there? Hmmm, maybe it will turn out better than the original idea.... Sometimes I regret it as I attempt to pull a panel nail out of a sensitive piece of wood, losing both the hard fought for wood element and hours in the end. But as in life, I learn not to do THAT again. And adapt accordingly.
Too bad we can't erase missteps we've taken in life as easily. Wouldn't that be too perfect? However, the parade there goes only in one direction. Maybe that's why I like to meander along the messy, scribbled, erased, repainted backroads of art.

The scent of old wood

2011-04-09T09:07:00.000-04:00

Silent soldiers ready to report for duty

Sometimes when I'm busy and 'in the zone' making a new assemblage piece, I cut a recycled board and release a waft of history.
All the recycled wood I use carry memories of their own. Oh, what they must have witnessed. The stories they could tell. Much of it comes donated by local Vermont farmers. Or tradesmen. Or practical, no nonsense folk.

But I'm reminded of my great uncle's home. Or my family's hope chest in the attic. The summer camp (before remodeling). Walking trails as a kid in the woods....
Long gone memories jarred back to life while standing at my bandsaw, 'just doing my job.'
How is it that these scents can bring me to that time? Do you know what I mean? It's always a surprise when nostaglia joins me while I'm at work. Nice company.

All Good Things Come In April

2011-04-07T18:17:00.000-04:00

'Reading Poetry Out Loud'
Acrylic on Rough Pine

April is Poetry Month.
I love poetry. Especially poetry that has a dry, humorous side. With that said, I'm a big fan of Billy Collins. Have all (but the most recent one) his books. A lot of them autographed. I've seen him read in an intimate church setting here in Vermont. Felt like I was in church. He's inspirational. And he reads his poetry so well. Not all poets can say that.
Sometimes when I read his works, I laugh til I cry. And that's over poems I already know. Why are they still so funny? I used to read his poems to my parents over late afternoon cocktails. We'd all be having trouble catching our breath. Ahhh, sweet memories.

I'd love to find other poets with the same sensibilities. If you can recommend any, I'd be eternally grateful.

I think of my art as a kind of visual kindred spirit to Mr. Collins' take on life. Noticing little subjects that happen all the time, all day long, gives me lots of material to sort through. Life is funny. For good and for bad. Ohhh...and it's National Humor Month also.

Folk Art Diary, chapter 2 - Almost there

2011-04-02T19:46:00.003-04:00

'Swinging from the rafters' housewife-
ready for her closeup

Here she is.

Almost finished.

Just need a second look at her tomorrow with fresh eyes. You always find things that need painting or re-working then. (The crowbar is an assemblage sculptor's version of an eraser.) She also needs to hold her wooden spoon in her dangling (not pictured) hand - you can always use an extra hand in the kitchen.

The one thing I didn't think of when making her - that I thought of while painting her - was the angle she'd be viewed from when completed. Being a mobile of sorts, that perspective wouldn't be as complementary as I had imagined unless you were standing on the ceiling. What - not the norm for an art lover? So I added a few more pieces below to give 'interest,' without added 'flash'.

Anyone care to add a critique? I always appreciate comments on my artwork as seen through others' eyes. Or come see her when complete at the Shelburne Museum's www.shelburnemuseum.org/ Diamond Barn Gallery (see previous post).

Folk Art Diary, chapter 1

2011-03-29T21:01:00.002-04:00

Weeeee!!! I'm flying!

I gave up on clearing the work bench. Already found some shapes from the shard pile to use in my 'swinging from the rafters' housewife sculpture, or is it a folk art mobile, maybe? This is the first of a few pieces for the Diamond Barn Gallery, the gallery inside the Shelburne Museum. www.shelburnemuseum.org It's located near the Steamboat 'Ticonderoga,' and across from the Lighthouse where friend and neighbor Warren Kimble has his work. It's an impressive museum, known for their huge collection of folk art. (Warning: It can take at least two full days to see most of the collections if you don't run out of energy first. Wear comfortable shoes.)

Suspended from ceiling, notice hand clamp

Back to the Creative Process:

Here's what I've done so far: I started with the swing. Then attached her lower torso (aka butt) to it; building from the ground up, so to speak. I knew I wanted to show motion so I needed her to tilt back and not just be sitting static. The most sensitive part of the task was to make it well balanced, but still able to wiggle. Had to figure that out by hanging it from my workshop ceiling and work the finer points out from there.

Next round paint and critique. To be continued....

Art lover Callie and new piece, before lift off

2011-03-26T17:32:00.001-04:00

Contemporary folk art musings: No point to it

2011-03-26T13:37:00.003-04:00

'Tumble Home'
acrylic on rough board

I have favorite brushes that I use while painting contemporary folkart. I wish I knew what made them my favorites so I'd buy more just like them when the time came. But, like everything in life, you don't know how they'll react until you get some miles on them. The one thing they all have in common is they lose their points. Some became really splayed, some look like a spikey hairdo. And they take on a different attitude when put to the canvas, or wood. They knew what would happen. They've been there before. That's what I love about them. I was reluctant to replace them when they lost their appetite for paint because it can be so expensive. But then I found I liked that they didn't have any point. It forced me to use their resources as best I could. I built a style around it. It kept me loose. And soft. - Perfect.

Smock as touchstone

2011-03-25T12:18:00.005-04:00

Dressed for work

I may dabble as I walk by in the shop. Or push paint around on a momentary basis. But as soon as I put my smock on, I get down to business. Smock is serious attitude. I have a relationship with my smock - I become committed to the task as soon as donning it. It carries the memories and colors of long ago sold folk art. And over time, new colors appear. I used to be able say what year that color joined my smock smear, but I don't keep track anymore. Still, those colors have added artistic ancestral strength as the layers increase. It's my armor (and fashion diversion) signifying me as one of many Creative Soldiers.

2011-03-18T09:38:00.003-04:00

The Great Abyss

Sorting chaos

2011-03-18T09:36:00.000-04:00

Lots to learn about blogging. Got feedback to my first post - less than 24 hours old. All said the same thing - can't comment. Kinda loses the point of it all in that case. Hope I pushed the right button to allow comments now.
Next up is sorting through the chaos in the shop. Spring cleaning sounds so delicate compared to what I'm about to tackle. When the cast offs of other projects start pushing their way into the valuable, but fragile work space, it's time to attack the shard pile. Hate this part because I have to let go of possible arms, legs, tails...for future assemblage or sculpture pieces. Can't think that way or it'll take months to do what could be done in a morning. 'If you love it then let it go and it will come back if...' No problem with that. I think it regenerates itself and is creeping from the barn to the house.

Jumping in without looking

2011-03-17T19:45:00.000-04:00

Funny way for an artist to start the first title of the first blog. Artists are always looking. Of course seeing is a better term. And the risk of jumping in - always an artist's obvious secret passion.
I hope this to be a place to connect with like minded art lovers. If you're one, consider yourself in the minority. I know my work is authentic, but not for everyone. I hope to comment on what inspires some of the pieces, how it comes together, and hopefully leaves. This first visual is my image. Not really, but like all my art, it exemplifies how I feel about the subject. This one is me in action: painting, hammering, sawing (ear protectors for my bandsaw) while one of my cats dubiously observes. I have two. They are usually my audience. Jim, my art critic, lurks in the wings, off canvas.