Spirits of Christmas Past

I am thankful for and amazed by my considerate folk art collectors who have sent me Christmas cards over the years. Not only do they send a card, often with a handwritten note, but some have included photos of the pieces I've made.

collector's photo (detail) of my work in their home

It's such a wonderful present. I love seeing these pieces in their settings - looking so much more 'at home.'
And often I had neglected to take a picture before sending them on their merry way.
How thoughtful these art collectors are to think of me at this busy time! So nice for me to see them once again!

For me, I'm lucky if I get my decorations up. I should start earlier. After languishing on the dining room table for far too long, my cat Callie reassigned the front door wreath to become her nest.

Callie warming her nest.

Toy Land

I can recall favorite childhood Christmas presents: my cat (an impulse adoption from the church basement where my uncle was the minister), a recumbent-peddled metal hook & ladder fire engine, a large wooden rocking horse called 'Big Red' floating on spring supports, natural maple (?) wood blocks that fit perfectly in its cardboard box, and my cobbler's bench. I never was much for dolls or girly things.

Sensory satisfaction of wood on wood. 

Playing with the wooden blocks and cobbler's bench continue in my assemblage artwork as an adult child. I don't have the originals anymore.
(Here's one like mine, left, sold as a Vintage Playskool Cobbler's Bench.)
However the satisfaction of pounding dowels, or building block sculptures has never left.
Many days remind me of those play times when I'm creating art in the shop.

Holiday Artwork

In many ways, it seems like the right time of year to turn inward and reflect. The tragic events in Connecticut urge me to be even more pensive. I've already caught myself silently singing 'I Wonder As I Wander' more than a few times recently. 

 'The Care and Feeding of Birds' wood assemblage
 ©robinrkent

I suppose it's the natural balance to the high times of summer with its rush of outward activity. 

This is a piece I made for my local library's Christmas auction a while ago. I only donate originals to a few organizations, the library being one.

I try to make artwork for them that includes a book. It's hard to see the cardinal on St. Francis's finger due to the beautiful wreath behind it. Birds are good at camouflage, you know. I posted this version because it showed the holiday greenery on location at the library, and hopefully the holiday spirit as well.  

Although it is a solitary time of year, helping others, animals included, in various ways seems even more essential. 

Folk Art Diary: Noticing how you see

'Winter solstice' acrylic on canvas       ©robinrkent

Reading books (or art) in the western world moves left to right. Then down to left again. A 'Z' motion. (or a 'Zorro' swash to me.) 'Reading' art is faster, but takes time to process. It being a more interactive endeavor.
The Z can make art move like a fast-paced action thriller. The blog header ski art (above) uses the diagonal to infer motion. Diagonals keep you off balance, an innate sense exploited by artists. And directs your eye. Notice how Kandinsky uses it to add dynamic motion in his work listed here: 'Top 10 Modern Artists'. (He's  #2.)
The tilt of the fellow (above), fall of the hill, and angle in the sky was to show some depth. Not a downhill slide on skis, just a creep.

Folk Art Diary: From Dark to Light

Did I miss something? Ahh, err... Yes. Been super busy, thus tired, thus missed writing a post. Hard to type with my eyes closed. 
Still haven't gotten used to the time change and early darkness. It really saps energy. I suppose it's a good time to catch up on sleep, but holidays and deadlines can get in the way. Hibernation will have to wait until February.
And when it is bright out, it's at such a severe angle, it's hard to see. This is the time of year to wear baseball caps, even if out of season. (A good time to root for the Red Sox.) And eyeglasses that turn dark. Maybe grey days are the best. If not for morale, at least vision.

©robin r kent 

The dark takes on an otherworldly ambience. It appeals to the emotions. And spirituality. Reaching through the dark to connect.
When painting, I usually start from a black field and paint from dark to light. The dark helps define the image. I use chalk to sketch in my drawing, correcting with a damp cloth. Then start painting the inside areas. When finished I erase the chalk lines with the damp cloth to reveal a black outline. Simple and striking. Especially in darkly lit rooms.
Above: My assemblage angels in gallery window, after hours. Recycled bamboo rakes, antique planks, furniture pieces, electrical wire, acrylic paint.

Folk Art Is People's Art

I try to describe my work to others. More than likely, that doesn't work. So I pull out a business card with photographs on it (painting on one side, assemblage/sculpture on the other). That helps the conversation continue.

Take a card...

I went to an art show recently where I am usually an exhibitor. I took this year off. Being a customer felt strange. I wanted to stand in someone's booth and write up sales.

I met a folk artist there whose work I had recently discovered. She was very friendly and forthcoming with her process. Maybe we connected because we are both folk artists. We compared notes. Both of us work in mixed media with wood as the base. We're similar but different in our style.
When discussing folk art definitions, she said you know it when you see it. That's what a folk artist would say. She can join my club. It's people's art.

Pocket Reference for Artists

Artists' pockets are useful for storage. Always an added bonus to find the newly acquired pants have 'deep pockets.' Deep thoughts can easily reside in there.

  Pockets as folk art subject  ©robinrkent

Lists of things to do, tools and screws to be returned, paper napkin drawings, loose change. I'll know what needs to be done next when I pull the winner out from my pocket. They become the saddlebag to my pack animal. Safe and secure when migrating, say from one side of the house to the other. 

But as the season gets colder, and I add layers, pockets become too much of a good thing. Too many hiding places. I've found  things I've looked for all summer in my spring/fall jacket. Like little memory scrap books they turn up reminding me of escaped thoughts. 

I always forget to look in the previous season's pockets. But I expect all will eventually come out in the wash. Those loose pennies are so hard to retrieve from there, though.

Left: 'For Your Consideration'
Acrylic on Barn Board