Art - The Long Conversation

When I was in school (Pacific NW College of Art) many years ago, I was going through so much angst and struggle. Being a student of art was such a wonderful excuse for everything. I did not eat well, I wore the same baggy clothes over and over again, I carried around my large homemade cardboard portfolio. It was sort of like a shield for me. I was an art student and therefore gave myself lots of lee way for my moods and unconventional life style. Nothing else should have mattered but art, school, work, making ends meet. Unfortunately I was also struggling with a difficult relationship. I can't say that I completely regret it. Everything we do colors our development. But it definitely sucked away some of my much needed energy and influenced some decisions I made. But school was mine. My experiences there were very much separate from what I went through in this personal relationship. I did however lean towards a spiritual exploration influenced by my boyfriend. It did not fit  me but it took me a few years to figure that out. I meditated on occasion because of it. The most profound moment I had  during meditation was  a session in my thesis studio at PNCA. A phrase came into my head which has stayed with me: "Words interrupt the long conversation". I had a long way to go in my exploration of art, but to me, this was a directive. I don't write specifically about my art. I don't dissect it, break it down, record the process digitally. I am superstitious about revealing. I suppose this is because it is a private conversation between me and the work, a visual conversation. It really is the closest I get to magic or religion.

After graduation my heart took me to San Francisco to pursue my ill-fated relationship. I had a very hard year. I moved five times and had as many jobs. I worked sporadically in whatever studio space I could contrive. I applied to graduate school at Berkely and did not get in. When the relationship had finally run it's rocky course I had no excuse to remain in the Bay area. I was very broken. My brother came down from Portland and carted me and my futon, bike, and art supplies back home in his van. Upon my arrival in PDX the rains had started. It was a long, miserable winter and I indulged myself completely in my pain, filling journals and boring my friends and family to tears with my long-winded tales of how heart broken I was. It took me a very long time to get over it. In the meantime I painted and eventually used art to support myself via commercial work.
I got hired as a set and scenic painter by a place called StageRight. It was a very rewarding but physically demanding job. I learned so much because I was forced to develop and use skills I never would have otherwise. It was a team job and there were many people involved in each project we worked on. Sometimes it would involve something very mundane like sign painting or faux wood graining miles of molding for a set. Other times it would be something more interesting like doing a Bruegal-esque back drop or leopard spotting an entire set - walls, carpet, furniture etc. The hours were sometimes very long with excruciating deadlines. Often we would work long into the night and then be back the next morning to continue the slog. I would ride my bike home at the end of a long session and pretty much collapse into bed without having showered which was actually pretty stupid since a lot of the materials we worked with were pretty toxic. My least favorite thing to work on was carving Styrofoam. Cutting it with a hot wire and sanding it etc. One time Gator (fellow worker) and I were hot cutting Styrofoam in the bay and  got so dizzy that we had to go for a walk to get some air. I inhaled a lot of things I should not have over the five years I worked there- various chemicals and wood dust - to the point that I actually lost my sense of smell for over a year. When an opening came available as a painter for the McMenamins I was ready to move on it. My brother had painted for them for several years and so I had an in.

Me at the Grand Lodge. I found this Mason's rug. I also found a squashed Mason's ring.

ABC cat at the Kennedy school. I did a series of alphabet themed paintings.
You can see more of my work for the Mc's here:  Mcmenamins


Painting for the Mc's was another adventure in learning and stretching my skills. The McMenamins own and operate a slew of hotels, pubs, and theaters throughout Oregon and Washington. Each place is decorated with murals, art pieces, and mosaics done by various artists and crafts people. Each artist works alone within the subject matter and criteria inherent to the property. There are historians on staff who do research on the history of a place and then give that information to the artists. My first project was the Kennedy School which is just a few blocks away from where I live now. At times it was a lot of fun, particularly because I got to work with my brother and some of the other core artists who became good friends. During the 3.5 years I worked for the Mc's I did almost no painting of my own. When I got laid off after the Grand Lodge project it actually took me several years to start painting again. I did a few free lance projects here and there but to do my own work seemed impossible. I had to clear out a space it seems.
I concentrated on making a home with my husband and gardening and raising my dog. I struggled with the fact that I was not making art. I felt a profound sense of guilt - I had a gift I was not using and it seemed rather like a sin. And so eventually I forced myself to start painting again. It was a rough beginning. I had to let go and so after doing a pretty pathetic self-portrait from a photograph I pushed my self to just paint. Paint without thinking, without trying to get anywhere in particular. Paint with paint on a painting and just paint it.
Here are the first two paintings I did when I began again in 2005:

Moment 16" by 12"

Out of the Blue #1