An Unlikely Subject

People who don't make art tend to be curious about where ideas come from and what the creative process is about. Artists tend to be curious about the process other artists go through in making a painting, photograph, sculpture, etc. I think it's unique to every individual.

For me, what usually happens is that I see something that interests me. Like the image above, which is what I see in the morning when I wake up. It lodges somewhere in my brain and ferments there. Often, what intrigues me is not something that anyone else would pay attention to. Sometimes, it never leaves my head and becomes anything physical. Sometimes an idea will brew for years.

What I do know is that I don't have control over what does and what doesn't catch my attention. Yes, I'm perfectly capable of creating paintings that arise from different impulses (like the need to sell the work). The ideal situation is when I make something I want to make and other people are able to see what I saw and want to own it. In a perfect world the two would mesh in a consistent way, and a good living could be made doing what I love.

So, what is likely to happen with that view outside my bedroom window? Beats me. But you can bet that it's in my brain somewhere, stewing around.

Are We There Yet?

This little painting has been taking a very long time. If you look back several blog posts you can see it in an earlier stage. http://www.barbaracowlin.com/2009/10/series-continues-nooks-crannies-ii.html

I'm getting closer to what I'm aiming for. Maybe another few painting sessions and I'll have it. Whatever it is. Stay tuned.

The Domino Effect or How to Effectively Procrastinate

For the Docents is one of my completed paintings from my "Nooks & Crannies" series. I am currently at work on several new paintings for the series. Well, I should be, anyway. And I am making some progress.

However, the state of my studio seems to be echoing the state of the inside of my brain–scrambled.


Besides painting, I should be grading. See above. I have a pile of stuff from my Basic Design class at Tohono O'ohdam Community College to grade. I love teaching. I do not one little bit like grading. Consequently, I'll find just about any excuse to put it off. Tomorrow is class. So I need to get with the program and deal with it.



However, somehow there doesn't seem to be a single surface in my studio that isn't piled up with stuff. And I need a surface to spread out the student work in order to do the grading. This table isn't so bad, but it's part of my painting set up, and I hate to mess with it, because then I have an excuse not to jump into painting.



Ouch. This one I wouldn't consider touching. I'm sorting family photos (many boxes of photographs in a big jumble). The idea was to put them into some sort of order. Also, I plan on using some of the images for various projects I have in mind. However, now the mess is much worse than the original jumble. And it's been like this for months. No grading is happening here.



Here is my fun clay stuff. I'm making lots of little gargoyle guys. Not sure why. But you can see that this table would be way daunting to clear off. No grading is going to happen here, either.



Then there are the boxes. I was doing this box thing a couple years ago. I got a wild hair and started making a new series of boxes. Road signs, the yellow and black boxes on the right. These are for the online store for my husband Jim and my project on US Route 89 . Clearly cleaning up this space is too much to tackle right now.

It seems I have the domino effect going on here. I'm not willing to just shove stuff aside. In order to clear up the studio and create a surface upon which to grade my community college students' work, I want to finish what I started. But each table is piled with stuff that represents many of hours of work before it can be cleaned off. That's the domino effect. Nothing gets done because there are so many things that need to get done before the real thing that needs to get done can get done.

And thus, you get a glimpse of the inside of my brain right now. Maybe it's just too scrambled to do justice to grading all of this work right now anyway.

A Jumble of Projects: Gargoyle, boxes and painting

This is one of the first "Nooks & Crannies" series of paintings that doesn't take place in the Phoenix Art Museum. I guess you could call it "Nooks & Crannies II". It's a scene from outside the Tucson Airport. I posted it (last week, I think), shortly after I started it. A number of hours of work later, here it is again. Now that I look, it doesn't appear all that different. Clearly, I have many hours to go. A good example of how long it takes to create a painting.



I like to play around with other materials once in a while. If you were to look way back in the archives of my blog, you'd see a number of boxes. I guess you could say that I went through a box phase.



I'm making a few boxes to sell on Jim's and my US Route 89 project website. Above is one that was a gift for a friend. I'm going to make a few more in this style. It's fun, because I do some drawings and copy them onto Lasertran paper. The printed paper is soaked in water, and the image slides off, like a decal. I adhere it to the gessoed box using Golden matte medium, and then paint a design around it.

Of course, nothing is simple. After the boxes are done, they need to be photographed and then go through some mysterious computer process to get them into the shop on the website. Being challenged with all things computer, I pass this part on to Jim.




Here's a gargoyle guy. Front and side views. I like making these little guys. This one is maybe 3 inches tall. Not sure what I'm going to do with them, but they're fun to make. So I'll make a series of them and then figure out what to do with them. I'm lucky to have a friend who has a Wednesday clay group. She's oh, so generous with her time and supplies. Since I'm new to the community, it's especially nice to be able to spend time with some new friends. Thanks, Carol!

Of Friends and the Homeless

I was up until past midnight the evening before I needed to bring my work to Phoenix to be installed at the Burton Barr Central Library gallery. I was finishing this painting. It's called Looking West, and is part of my "Nooks & Crannies" series. I ended up completing 20 new paintings for this show. It took a bit over a year.

While installing the show last week, people kept drifting in from the library. At the time I was pretty absorbed in getting the work hung, but I did end up having conversations with some of the people who were curious about what I was up to.

While we were waiting for the library to open so that we could haul the paintings in, it was clear that the sizable crowd waiting with us outside was comprised mainly of homeless people waiting to get in out of the heat.

One of the things I was hoping for in doing this show was to have an appreciative audience. I was especially hoping that some people who are familiar with the Phoenix Art Museum would come by and recognize that the spaces my paintings are based on are from the Museum. What I didn't think about were the homeless people who would also be drifting through the gallery. To be honest, they didn't cross my mind.

One guy in particular stick in my mind. He came into the gallery and spent a long time looking at my paintings while they were being hung. Then he engaged me in conversation. It turns out that he had gone to RISD (Rhode Island School of Design) and is (was, had been?) a graphic designer. He was excited about my work. He said he was relieved to see someone in the world who saw things in a similar way to his way of viewing the world. He said some really perceptive things about several of the paintings. Then he showed me a few photos he'd taken on his phone camera of a few of his own nooks and crannies. He apologized for their quality, saying that he'd had to hock his camera and didn't have the money to retrieve it. I wish I could have helped him out.

The opening came. It was Phoenix First Friday. I anticipated a sizeable crowd. Perhaps because it was Labor Day weekend, the big crowd just didn't materialize.

I did, however, have a steady stream of friends who came by. I was so amazed and touched that they would take the time to see my work and to see me. It was nice to have a chance to spend some time talking to friends I hadn't seen in awhile.

So, the work is up. The first reception has happened. Another First Friday to go (October 2). Meanwhile, I hope that some of the people who use the library will come through the gallery. Perhaps my work will resonate with a few more visitors.

Balancing Act: I Can't Wait! Working in the Studio vs. The Business of Art

I try to create a post for my blog twice a week. Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn't. This past week and 1/2 has been busy with visitors. When we lived in Ajo, way, way in the boonies of the desert of southern Arizona, a (very) few intrepid friends made the trek to see us.

One of the things I hoped for when we moved to Oracle, is that our friends might be more inclined to visit. In reality, Oracle is the same distance from Phoenix, but because it's just north of Tucson, there's the appeal of a really interesting city nearby. Plus, living at 4500 ft. elevation means that we're cooler here, a real incentive for Phoenicians, and less of a disincentive for other friends from cooler climes, to come visit.

So, my wish is coming true. Which brings up the title of this post, Balancing Act. And yes, it is. A balancing act.

The act of entering the studio and getting to work can be daunting. So much rides on the success or failure of every creative attempt. It's hard to ignore the cost of the materials required to do the work. Studio work has to go hand in hand with figuring out how to manage an art career, which includes marketing and selling art, and many other tasks. And then there's doing the laundry, cleaning the house, and making time for friends and family.

A true juggling act.

The photo above is a beginning and a finishing. I just started the painting on the left. If you look back at previous entries, I've been working on the painting on the right for some time. I'm not sure how long, because while I intended to track my time on this one, it didn't happen. Yesterday, when I entered my studio, I thought a few small touches would complete the painting. Hours later, I was still working on it. When I go to look at it today, I hope I'll be able to call it done, and begin to concentrate on the painting you see below.

I've just finished the fun stage of this one, where everything seems possible. I literally dash paint onto the canvas, keeping it loose and experimental. Next step is to look at proportions and angles and begin to work with color.


The next step for the painting above (assuming it will stay finished) is to sign it, title it and photograph it. (A real, James Cowlin photograph, professional and accurate). Then I enter it into my Bento record of paintings, with dates, size, title, media, price, location. Next I'll enter it into my various on-line galleries and websites. This, too, is time consuming and not so fun. But necessary in keeping track of my work.

I'm grateful to Alyson Stanfield, my guru of all things art business related. Her book, I'd Rather Be in the Studio: The Artist's No-Excuse Guide to Self-Promotion, has been instrumental in my progress in balancing the art in being an artist with the business aspects. I have an accurate record of my work, thanks in large part, to the suggestions in her book. Her weekly newsletter helps to keep me on track. You can view her website and subscribe to the free newsletter at Alyson Stanfield's website.

A new book, The Artist's Guide: How to Make a Living Doing What You Love, by Jackie Battenfield is a great companion book to Alyson's. I just finished it, and I love her approach. Now I need to start at the beginning of the book and follow her advice!

The reality of being an artist is that more than 50% of time has to be spent on the business aspects of the art practice, in order to move ahead in an art career.

Which brings me to the point (at last) of this blog post: I'm continuing on the theme of what it takes to be an artist. It's not just all fun and games. It's lots of hard work and like any job, includes plenty of stuff that you'd just rather not do. The difference is that because it's completely self directed, it takes buckets of determination both to make the art, and to promote it. Balancing the art making, art promoting, and the rest of life is an art form in and of itself!

Procrastination: Painting Progress Report

After many hours of work (too absorbed to track my progress with my camera), this is what I have so far. You can check back a couple blog posts if you'd like to check out where I started with this painting. It's still far from complete. It's at the stage where I think it'll take a few hours to finish, but ends up taking days. It always happens, and I never seem to learn.

Documenting my progress is part of my resolve to learn to explain my work and my method of painting, so that when people ask questions, I have worked out some logical answers. This, instead of stammering and telling them that I really, really need to think about how to describe my paintings and process.

Actually, the reality is that I'm stalling. We were on the road last week, working on the US Route 89 project, http://www.us89society.org. After being totally absorbed in that, I find it difficult to switch gears and get back into my studio. I know that once I force myself to enter that space, I'll get right to work and wonder what the problem was. It's the getting in there that is hard. It's like a brick wall I have to force my way through. You'd think someone was waiting to torture me on the other side of that door, when in reality, what waits is what I love to do.

Moving Along, Stage Two of Painting

In my last blog post, I decided to photograph my progress on a new (yet untitled) painting. What you see above and below are paintings in what I consider the 2nd or middle phase of development. On the top photo, I've used tape to "redraw" the angles and shapes and to straighten out the edges. Painters tape is something I started using a lot with the Nooks & Crannies series. I find it helps me to visualize where I'm going. I should have taken the time to take a photograph with the tape on, but I was deep into working and didn't think of it.

In addition, I've started to work with value and color. At this point, I'm probably at least 6 hours into the painting process.



I decided that the wall on the left and in the middle (with banister) needed some texture. I made a mixture of Golden fine pumic and coarse pumice and spread them on with a palette knife. The gel is pretty opaque and covered most of the paint, which is why it looks lighter. I'll go in and repaint it when it dries.

In addition, I did more work on the foreground and ceiling. I'm probably into the 9th hour of painting at this point.



This has nothing to do with anything, exactly. Believe it or not, there's a butterfly (hidden by a shadow) on the far right flower. So much for nature photography! I do love the colors in this photo, though, taken right outside my studio door, even though it's out of focus, etc.

My husband pointed out that the colors kind of correspond to my current painting.

By the way, I'm mentioning the amount of time it's taking me on this painting because I usually don't pay much attention. I just know I put vast amounts of time into every piece. The middle phase is by far the longest and hardest for me.

The Boy Eats Broccoli (with Thanks to Carla Reed, Jeremiah and Corinne)

Twenty some years ago, our son Mathew was born. He was very early. 3 1/2 months early to be exact. He spent a long time on a respirator in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at St. Joseph's Hospital in Phoenix. He weighed 3 lbs., 15 oz. when we were finally able to take him home. He was still on oxygen and needless to say, was very fragile.

It wasn't until he was 10 years old that I created the painting you see. The images in the small canvases are xerox transfers of the photos my husband Jim took while Mat was in the NICU. I used gel medium to create a "skin", which held the ink from the xerox, once the paper was dissolved in water. I painted over the top of the images. They're a bit hard to see at this size.

The first is of Mat in the incubator with multiple tubes running in and out of him. The hands are mine and Mat's big brother, Jeremiah's.

The second is of me, holding Mat. This was a very big deal. He was 3 weeks old before he was strong enough to be taken out of his incubator. It took 2 nurses to get him out, what with all the wires and tubes that had to come with him.

The third image is of Jim, looking into the incubator. I took the original photo.

The fourth is of Jeremiah, holding his brother. At this point, Mat was in "Feeding and Growing", the area in the NICU where the job of the infant is to eat and get big enough to go home. Jeremiah was such a trooper during the whole time Mat was in the hospital. He brought his homework every night and did it by Mat's bedside. I don't think he ever once complained about all the time he had to spend at the hospital.



Guess who?! Yes, this is Mathew. Home from college. Eating broccoli, and a variety of raw food items he prepared for himself for lunch.

Now, this might seem like nothing to remark on. But it is. A family joke has always been that Mat never lets anything green enter his mouth except mint chip ice cream. Getting him to eat as a baby and then for most of his growing up years was no joke at all. He needed the food to grow. And he needed to grow so that his lungs would grow, allowing them to get healthy. Eating just didn't appeal much to Mat. He did eventually eat ice cream. And bean burritos. And noodles with butter. And very little else.

His physical therapist when he was little had a mission. It was to teach Mat to tie his shoes. And to eat broccoli. Many sessions were taken with Carla Reed touting the splendors of broccoli. Steaming broccoli. Adding butter and other condiments. Offering it to Mat. Mat would gamely let a morsel go into his mouth, only to gag and spit it out.

I credit Mat's wonderful brother Jeremiah and Corinne, Jere's significant other, for the breakthrough you see in the photo above. Jeremiah and Corinne changed their diet to Raw Food when Mat was visiting during spring break. Apparently, it rubbed off on Mat.

There he is, actually voluntarily eating broccoli and other green things. Wonders never cease! Thank you, Jeremiah and Corinne.

Happy in My New Studio (Except for the Pack Rat)

Well, here I am, happy in my new (close to completed) studio. A storage rack for my paintings still needs to be built. Baseboard needs to be painted. I've decided to repaint the north wall a whiter white. The front door needs to be cased in and sealed.

The biggest challenge is going to be getting rid of the pack rat that is currently residing in a wall. He (or she) comes out and tromps around in the ceiling above the toilet. We know it's not a mouse because the droppings are rather large. Yuck. I'll be heading to our local hardware store to pick up some sort of humane trap. The question is what does one do with a captured pack rat?
This is what really freaks me out. I don't particularly want to have to actually see this fellow.

I've moved in a couple easels and a few tables. Now I need to watch the light to figure out where to locate my painting area.

I'm amazed at how quickly it's coming together!

Organizing Space, Saving Sanity

It occurs to me that working in a studio is similar to cooking in a kitchen.

When you are in your kitchen, the last thing you want is to be hunting for a critical utensil while something is about to overcook on the stove, or to be unable to find the oven mitt as your cake begins to burn in the oven. Or to trip over a stool you used to reach something in a high cabinet and forgot to put away. It takes a long time to get a kitchen functioning so that you can concentrate on the job of cooking, rather than the frustration of finding stuff.

The same is true in a studio space. In my mind, it's even more critical, because in hunting for some tool or tripping over a painting and losing concentration, who knows, you may never quite be able to recapture that spark of genius that was moving your work forward before being so rudely interrupted.

Getting a studio functioning well is also a long process. I moved into my current space in October. After all the unpacking and shelving and shuffling around, I worked for a few weeks. Then I discovered that the light was better on the opposite side of the studio. So I reversed everything, hauling all my painting supplies to the west end of the studio and dragging all my printmaking and other stuff to the other side. Since then, there's been more moderate readjusting to increase the smooth functioning of the space.

I started on a new series of paintings in November. I went to a workshop (see previous posts), learned a lot, and began working on a number of paintings at one time. Seemingly out of the blue, I had upwards of 20 paintings in various stages of completion underfoot. They were multiplying like rabbits. I was tripping over them. The studio looked like a crazy person was working there. Suddenly I couldn't stand it anymore.

My friend Eddie happened to be working on a project in the space next door. I talked him into figuring out a way to secure my paintings on top of the shelves on the south wall. He came up with a quick and clever solution using salvaged materials. I labeled all of my canvases and panels and put them up high, out from underfoot. They are easy to get to, much better protected, and my studio looks twice as big.

Stopping work to get reorganized was hard. I really didn't want to waste time. A lot of time can be frittered away with spurious organizing efforts that might not accomplish much. All of us creative sorts know about our various ways of avoiding the important work at hand. Sometimes it's hard to distinguish between using time wisely and wasting time. In this case, I feel like I can breathe. I can't wait to get into my studio every day to pull one of those neatly shelved paintings down and get to work!

Thank you, Eddie!

Try, Try Again

Years ago, last time I was working as a full-time artist, I applied to exhibit at @Central Gallery, at the Burton Barr Central Library in downtown Phoenix, several times. Applying to various shows is part of an artists' work. It actually costs money to apply to almost all exhibits. The fees are usually about $15 to $25 per entry of anywhere from 1 - more images, depending. So not only do you risk rejection, but you have to pay for it! It's important to get into shows because it's exposure for your work, it might generate sales, it's good for a resume, it builds credibility.

In the case of the @Central Gallery submissions, way back in the mid 1990's my work wasn't chosen. It's always hard to be rejected. But as an artist, you have to be able to move on, keep making your work and keep trying. Since then for 12 years or so, I was occupied by going back to school to get my teacher certification, and then spent 10 years teaching art full time. During that time, I continued to make my work when possible, and created a fairly steady, albeit slow, output of work.

Since the move to Ajo, and my commitment to working full time as an artist, as expected, my body of paintings has been growing. So I took a stab at the @Central Gallery again. It's a wonderful space, I always love the shows there, and the gallery gets lots of traffic . My hope was that maybe this time I'd get a piece into an exhibit.

Yesterday I got a call from the Gallery Coordinator, Prudence Crosswhite, asking me if I'd like to do a solo show! What an honor. How exciting! What a lot of work I get to do to prepare for this show. I'd better head up to my studio right now and see what I can accomplish.

By the way, the painting posted above is from the Nooks and Crannies series, part of my upcoming show. When I get the schedule, I'll post it. All I know right now is that the exhibit will be happening sometime between July and November.

Back to work!

It feels great to be back to work. While the space looks like a disaster, I know exactly where everything is. I'm starting two new paintings (on the easels), while completing a third (on the work bench, facing backward). The table is covered with stuff for my box making operation. If you go back into the archives, there are photos here and there of the boxes I paint. Not showing in this photo is my press (you can see just a bit of the wheel in the lower left corner of the studio picture. I have room to be working on prints while doing all of the other stuff you see. This is just the way I like it, with lots going on all at one time.