The Before and After of Folk Art Tales

To paint on canvas or to assemble a wood sculpture was the dilemma with this next folk art project. (See previous post for the first chapter of this story.) Grimm's fairy tale 'Cinderella' was the assignment. Why hadn't other artists picked her for the Fairy Tales group show at Frog Hollow Craft Center?

'Before the Ball'  acrylic on canvas  ©robinrkent

I realized one reason, as I thought about how to portray her. She can be difficult in a perfect sort of way.
She's too cutesy. Too perfect with the birdies tying up her sash, a la Walt Disney. ...and maybe then, too shallow? What's interesting to paint about that?

Mustn't forget how she got there. That's where the grist lies. That's what made her the woman, er, fantasy she is today.
That's the part that's interesting. (Not that I'd want to take care of 2 vain women and an unloving father...) but a little exaggeration makes the modern day connection.

So this is Cindi, 'Before the Ball,' 2012 created using acrylic (still house paint, though) on canvas. Much less work than an assemblage: scrubbing wood, hammering, sanding...

Fairy Tale Folk Art

I had an offer from Frog Hollow Gallery to create a piece from Grimm's fairy tales for an upcoming group show. I was so excited I said I'd like to create two pieces: maybe an assemblage for one and a painting for another!

"Red and Her Consort' acrylic on wood assemblage ©robinrkent

Fairy tales are a personal favorite, and I haven't done any 'literary work' in a long time. It was
'a very long time ago ...'
Illustrating simple stories takes thought. The artwork needs to live up to their exalted imaginary status.
Due to my meager photography skills, the four layers making up this wall assemblage aren't obvious. Grandma's house is far away, indeed. 
Now on to Cinderella: painted lady or stacked wood? The ending yet to be determined.

Outsiders in a folk art world

I'm a folk artist based in New England. Not many in the large folk art world are located here. Southern (or way southern as in Mexican, or Oaxacan) and African folk artists make up most of its citizens, I think. At least on the internet.

'Siesta Box' folk art box ©robin r kent

Folk art flourishes further north as well. Alaskan and Nova Scotian contemporary folk artists sure do rock it.
Maybe we're outsiders in the folk art world? Outsider folk art. We could claim that as in location, but we might be sterotyped as more reserved in style. Yes, this region might be a tad more stoic. Working with leftovers from nature's prim pantry. But we do embody the every man motif. Few embossed or polished edges here.

Siesta Box , left, acrylic on wood assemblage (about 2/3 life size; 2 boxes: hat crown lifts for small box, arms are the lid for the large box)
He left sitting pretty in a spiffy 2-seater convertible many years ago. I could tell he was made to see more of the world. They looked like a nice couple as they headed for points south. He never looked back.

This 'Old' Folk In Contemporary Folk Art

This year being more than 'half course through its run,' I'm in a reminiscing mode. Or maybe this happens more as you age. A better file to rifle through?

'Old Woman on Bus' from my (early) sketchbook, 1975

I reflected on a comment shared by a show Director. He was told: 'they really liked my work' but were surprised to learn 'I wasn't a young artist.' They thought I was more 'hipper' than 'geezer.' Guess not.

Hints are offered when viewing artwork. And many opinions assumed by viewers. There are no wrong answers; make of it whatever your imagination wants. Until you float back into reality.

I love Matisse's cut outs. So bright, uncomplicated, childlike. He didn't start this technique until ill, 15 years before his death. Who'd know?

Maybe the soul comes through when creating art. It is a form of communication. Just depends on the receiver's interpretation -  and a timeless meeting of the minds?

Folk Art Assemblage: Step One

Just when I was wondering if I should take a welding course and mix it up a little, fate in the form of a benevolent fellow with a woodlot, steps in. It is not unusual for me to be given relics from local citizenry. They know I might be able to incorporate their gifts and I appreciate the offer, but its been years since I've had such a large donation.

Folk art assemblages waiting to be uncovered

And the picture doesn't show the rest of the piles. When people ask 'how's your garden?' I think 'I grow weeds and am starting a lumber yard.' My tomato plants are feeling the pinch. The weedwacker is getting used more than the mower. I think about where to stack this for overwintering. Should I hire somebody to help. So many sides to the process before the dainty part of assembling, painting, and displaying.
Guess fate answered any questions about changing mediums. Maybe hinting for me to go large scale? 'Go big or go home' comes to mind. But wait, I am home.

Crossing the Line

Not having a broad choice of television viewing options, I'm so glad the Summer Olympics are on. It brought out memories when as a child, I had abundant energy and felt I could do anything.

'Crossing the Line' wood wall assemblage, acrylic ©robinrkent

My favorite was Track and Field. Spoken by one who now thinks a fast walk is a sprint.
How many athletes had names that described what they do. Americans Trotter, Gait(lin), Miles. The amazing star in quickness and theater was Bolt from Jamaica. Another Muhammed Ali in the making. Such bravado. Wonder what if his name had been 'Pokey.'

I loved the rivalry between the long distance runners of Ethiopia and Kenya. Beautiful to watch their fluidity of form.

Maybe my newly acquired walking habit makes me a child in the universal athletic family, too. I'm not running, however I've learned to walk again.  But oh, to show such grace while doing it.

The Poignant Side of Funny

Liking poetry for the chance to chew on words slowly, a blog I silently follow called 'The Rain In My Purse'  http://theraininmypurse.blogspot.com/ gives me a full course dinner.

'Pecking Order' acrylic on canvas board   ©robinrkent
What's so funny?

I chuckled at the poem she mentioned called 'What Narcissism Means to Me' by Tony Hoagland, published by Graywolf Press. Never aware of that phrase before - if it is one - (I don't get around much), I had to read it.

Comedy and Tragedy being so connected, I wonder why they aren't thought of as a unit more often. Like twins separated at birth, or sweet complementing spicy, or Woody Allen, the hidden poignant factor helps - in a strange way - find that funny side of life.

I think laughing, or even a fleeting grin, is a way we unconsciously give thanks for being part of the act.