Deeper Than It Might Seem

'Princess and the Pea' wood assemblage

©2011 robin r kent

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

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

© robin r kent

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

'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...

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

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

©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

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