A Surprising Encounter in a Former Ghost Town

Our wonderful older son (as opposed to our wonderful younger son) gave Jim a birthday gift nearly a year ago that we were finally able to use this week. The gift was two nights at the Shady Dell Trailer Court in Bisbee, Arizona (for both of us. Thanks, Jere, I'd have been sad to have been left out!). The Shady Dell has been written up in Sunset Magazine, among others. A totally unique experience, you arrive at Shady Dell to a group of vintage trailers, arranged in a semi-circle, shaded by trees. 50's and 60's music and decor greet the visitor. Our trailer had a living area, kitchenette, bedroom and bathroom.

I don't have a single picture of our 3 day vacation. We agreed not to take cameras. The idea was to relax and not work. At all. Relaxing is actually hard work when you aren't used to it. And being artists in an art town, naturally, time is spent in galleries looking at, yes, art. Which is work. When what you love and what you do are one and the same, it's truly hard to separate work from play. Mostly.

The title of this blog post is A Surprising Encounter in a Former Ghost Town. As you might guess, there is a reason for this title. Bisbee was a copper mining town. When the mines closed, the town languished. I'm not sure how close it ever became to being a true ghost town. At some point, artists began to make their homes here. Although Bisbee is in Southern Arizona, it is a mile high. The elevation makes for a mild climate. The homes are built on very steep hillsides, so steep that you can reach some only by climbing long flights of stairs. To say that Bisbee is in the middle of nowhere wouldn't be exaggerating.

On to the Surprising Encounter. We wandered about town. On a side street, we stopped to admire a nearly vertical garden. The rock terracing was amazing. The plantings provided a riot of color and texture interwoven up the hillside. While we were staring, a guy appearing to be in his late 60's, early 70's, approached us. It turns out that the garden we were admiring was his. He offered to take us up the nearly vertical stairs for a closer look. We ended up with a tour of a number of hidden gardens tucked in front of, beside and behind the homes on the hillside. After climbing what seemed like hundreds of stairs and landing back on the street, our host invited us to visit his studio.

What work. What a studio. Don't I wish I had my camera! Peter owns the entire Old Philadelphia Hotel. The ground level (former store fronts) are all his studio. I have no idea how many square feet we're talking about here, but it's a lot. He treated us to a view of his work, starting in the early 60's and moving forward in time.

He lived and worked in New York in the 60's and early 70's. Not only was he a New York artist, he was (and is) famous! His work is in the collections of the Museum of Modern Art, the Guggenheim, the National Gallery in Australia, to name just a few. He didn't tell us any of this, except that he had worked in New York. In fact, to say he was unassuming would be an understatement.

After spending quite a bit of time in his studio, looking at the work and talking, we left to meet an old friend for lunch. Bob Wick, our friend, is an accomplished sculptor (that's a whole other story!) He confirmed that Peter is indeed well known. Bob mentioned that Peter had at one time been married to a famous dancer.

This was all exciting indeed. The minute we got back home, I googled Peter Young. He was married to a famous dancer. Twyla Tharp. Now that's famous! He's been written up in Art in America and Art Forum as recently as 2007. He had a solo show in New York city just a year ago. He's been reviewed in the New York Times. He's had a fascinating life. Wow.

If you're curious, here is an article about Peter Young. If you're really intrigued, there are lots more articles available. Just google him.

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.

The Show is Up, Now What???

I've been working on a series, Nooks & Crannies, for a year. I applied to exhibit at the @Central Gallery at Burton Barr Central Library in downtown Phoenix last December and was offered a solo show in February (or sometime after the new year). I've been focused on this show for many months, with a goal of completing between 18-22 new paintings. That's a lot for me, because I'm a slow worker, and a painting, no matter what the size, usually takes a month or more for me to complete.

Above is a view of the entrance to the library, taken by my husband, James Cowlin. I'm lucky to be married to him for so many reasons, one of which is that since he's a professional photographer, I get to be the beneficiary of his talent when I need good pictures. He also puts up with me when I'm cranky, which I am especially when I'm stressed out. Like right now.



This photograph is so beautiful, I'm tempted to take a stab at making a painting from it! It's another view of the entrance to the library. By the way, Burton Barr Central Library is one of my very favorite places in Phoenix. It's worth a visit to enjoy the architecture, both outside and inside. There's always a good show in the gallery, thanks to Prudence Crosswhite, who's the curator of @Central Gallery. There are a series of cases displaying fine art books on first floor behind the stairway. There's a beautiful reflecting pond. The 5th floor offers fantastic views of the city and is the largest reading room in the country. Not to mention the great collection of books.



Here's a shot looking into the gallery.



Here's Prudence straightening up a painting.



A shot looking out into the lobby area of the library from the gallery.



Another.



One of the walls, with my work. The little painting on the left is hung high up to make room for my artist statement. Thank you to Alyson Stanfield and her book I'd Rather Be in the Studio. Writing an artist statement is not so much fun. It takes a lot of thinking, writing and rewriting. It's never really finished. I feel like I took a pretty good stab at the newest version for this show.



Another wall.



Another wall.



Last wall.

So, it's up. There are 2 receptions, coinciding with 2 First Fridays. One is September 4, this Friday. The other is October 2. I'll be at both.

After driving to Phoenix and back (2 hrs each way) yesterday with Jim to deliver and install the work, I did not get up early. I almost didn't get up at all. I guess you could say I had something of a letdown. I won't even get into my thinking about all that work, and was it worth it and who cares, etc. etc.

Anyway, I did roust myself out of bed. And have been busy, busy, busy ever since. There's a lot of mop up to do. For instance, some of my cards have been returned, to I need to update my mailing list. I have new paintings to record in my computer files. I have 5 online galleries to update. Etc.

I'm already anxious to get back into my studio. To do what, I'm not sure. Stay tuned while I figure it out!

Changing Gears, Going AWOL and Crabby About It

I've temporarily gone AWOL from my studio. Read below for the reason.

My second job is working on the US Route 89 project. I'm very enthusiastic about it. My husband, Jim, got fascinated by this historic road, which goes from Mexico to Canada, about 8 years ago. Gradually, the fascination turned into a passion.

When I began working on my art practice full time 2 years ago, two things became apparent to me. One was that this project of Jim's was such a major undertaking, there was no way he could do it all by himself. It made sense for me to begin to help out. Secondly, it would be great to experiment with doing a creative collaboration with Jim. As with any collaboration, we're constantly working out the wrinkles in the system.

The picture, above, taken by our photographer friend, Jewel Clearwater, shows us in the "Pod", our teardrop trailer, anticipating our upcoming trip.


Now for the changing gears part. And the crabby about it part. I love doing this work with Jim. But no matter how hard I try, it seems that the first few days of travel (okay, I admit it, sometimes a few more than a few), are a difficult transition for me. I'm not in my studio working. I worry that maybe somehow, I'll never manage to get into my studio to work again, once my routine is disrupted. I have trouble looking at the big picture. My gears are grating against each other.

Here I am, in the Pod, at a lovely campground, with a cup of coffee. I'm grumpy nonetheless. It's early in the morning (6 am) and instead of lounging about relaxing, we need to move along and get back on the road.

Stay tuned for progress reports when I have internet access and time. We'll arrive back home on August 13.

By the way, here's the website for the Route 89 project. It's fabulous!

My Most Precious Studio Supplies

I know this is a slightly out of focus photograph (maybe more than slightly), but the brushes are more than slightly worn, so the fuzziness may be more flattering. These are my favorite brushes, Windsor Newton Lexington II's. They're not expensive. The bristles have just the right amount of stiffness combined with springiness for my style of working. The bristles are just the right length. I love the rounds and the flats and the filberts and every other style they make. I'm very hard on brushes. I scumble a lot. This means that I scrub the brushes over the surface of the painting. It wears the bristles down. I don't particularly like a brand new brush. One that is well broken in is just perfect. It's wonderful for awhile and then suddenly, it's just too worn out. Kind of like a good haircut that is best after the first few days, great for weeks, and then all of a sudden almost overnight, way too shaggy.

Which brings me to a little paranoia. It seems that my brushes break down in a group. I'm going along just fine and then suddenly one day, a bunch of my favorites have just had it. I panic. Lexington II's aren't the easiest brushes to find. My favorite art supply store, Arizona Art, carries them. But only at the store in Phoenix, a 2 hour drive away. If I think ahead, I can order them from the local Tucson Arizona Art Supply and the brushes will arrive in a few days. Somehow, I never get around to going online to figure out where else to get them, probably because I don't think about it unless I'm in crisis mode. None of the catalog stores I use carry them. I've looked at other art stores, to no avail. This is when I get real nervous. What if Windsor Newton has stopped making them? Then what will I do? It's the stuff of nightmares!





On the other end of things are the feet. Mine hurt. They hurt a lot. It's probably because I taught art in a facility with a concrete floor. And I lived in a home with a concrete floor. Then I moved to an apartment with a concrete floor and acquired a studio space with, yes, a concrete floor. Now my brand new studio, which I love, also has a concrete floor. A normal person would just sit down. I rarely sat down when I taught art. I even more rarely sit down to paint. Sitting just isn't something I do well.

What you see above are a pile of life savers. They are FitFlops, a sandal from England, sold in the USA. I'm not sure what it is about them that works so well. Believe me, I've experimented with just about every shoe style and brand known to man. I discovered FitFlops last year via an add in the New York Times. Having been burned too many times to count by shoes that feel great for the first 1/2 hour and then no longer hold the promise of comfort, I was dubious but curious. I bought my first pair. It was like a miracle. No more foot pain. And the comfort continued on, month after month.

Paranoia kicked in again. What if the company goes under? What if they repurpose the style or change materials? Hence, the pile you see in the photo. I currently have 5 pairs of FitFlops. They are worth their weight in gold. I'm thinking I'd better get to the store to pick up just a couple more pairs, just to be safe.

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.