Studio Practice

2011-07-02T22:28:00.001-04:00

recent arrival

2011-06-29T21:14:00.006-04:00

I have been scanning some images from my Studio Journal. I have kept one since art school. My Sophomore Studio teacher, Keith Morris Washington, mentioned it as a helpful tool). I also saw other students using one as well. At first I jotted color recipes in it, notes from class, lectures and critiques and quotes from readings I was doing at the time. I am still reding Bachelard's 'The Poetics of Space' and making notes. As time went on the journal became a repository for all sorts things, drawings, maps of paintings to be, ideas, color maps and collages and a place to put everything that seemed to be important to me.
Sometimes I will return to page over time and suddenly will see that something has arrived.

Alchemy & Inquiry: mostly Terry Winters

2011-06-12T20:32:00.009-04:00

Went to New York this weekend to celebrate our nephew's graduation from High School. He survived!!!
Also saw my sister in the Bronx and we went to Wave Hill to see a wonderful exhibit with Philip Taafe, Fred Tomaselli, (drum roll, please) Terry Winters. Winters is one of my favorite artists. I could spend hours looking at his work.
The bottom image in this post is Terry Winters' Morula III (Gouache, graphite, ink on paper). It is a piece that wasn't in the show but I love it so there you go.
The work in the show was specific to Wave Hill which is a 28 acre public garden and cultural center overlooking the Hudson River and the Palisades. If you can get there go, fast.
The bottom image is Wave Hill (oil on paper mounted on composite board, 38 x 44 inches)
Each painter had a room to themselves in the Glyndor Gallery and had visited the gardens in the fall. Each of them chose a particular garden as a theme and went on from there.
Winters brief was the Herb, Dry and Alpine Garden and he had relief prints and paintings.
A wonderful show. I will write more about Tomaselli and possibly Taafe later. Too tired right now...

recent monoprint

2011-04-25T17:50:00.002-04:00

April 10, 1980 - question of the day

2010-12-22T10:54:00.003-05:00

why tell the truth
unless
it
was
to
save
your
life?

At the museum with all the beautiful Art

2010-11-11T13:59:00.003-05:00

A new poem

2010-10-29T16:10:00.009-04:00

Brothers

As Florencio awaits his magic rocket

Floyd Collins watches from 55 feet

beneath Kentucky

a broken electric bulb by his side.

The terracotta miners in China

lay on their sides in the cold dark

eyes wide, staring.

In Sugar Notch, PA

an ancient miner rubs at his tearing eyes,

and can see nothing.

The capsule rises,

it’s odd path

and oblique trajectory suggesting flight.

The miners know better.

This is an earth bound ascension, a

ripping from stone

of what has already been taken.

In Kentucky, Floyd Collins moans.

He reaches out to touch his

electric bulb, it is so cold.

He strains to hear the voice of the lone reporter.

He hears only air and space and stone.

Florencio rises, begins to lift.

There is a hush.

In Kentucky, Floyd looks at Florencio

"Brother", he whispers, through the rock

and the years,

"Florencio, you are our Christ to be reborn!

I, too, was once Christ in the Tomb".

In China, terracotta eyes turn

mutely following.

In Pennsylvania, a miner mouths broken

words falling, cracking,

the scratching dust dark.

Florencio Avalos

ascends to heaven

today

in Copiabo, Chile,

13 October,

2010.

©kathryncollins2011

Gouache on gessoed paper

2010-09-30T16:04:00.002-04:00

recent poem

2010-09-17T16:42:00.004-04:00

Three Jellyfish

Three jellyfish hung above her, their

tentacles hanging

down her lank hair, their

gelatinous bodies moving

swaying in the breeze. Behind them the

sky was blue and forever deep.

There was a single cloud, a puff,

high off to the right of her

particular sky.

This, too, was slowly moving,

in this case, steadily

to the right,

or west. The hovering, floating disks

slowly gave way to gravity

wafted down

settling beside her.

She lay there drowsing.

thoughts wandered this way and

that. Her leg itched. An ant restlessly

picked his way across her thigh.

She slept.

new season

2010-05-15T15:17:00.002-04:00

This is an old digital piece. I really need to get hold of a scanner. I am working on two paintings right now, at a glacial pace, but working none the less, and I am even doing a few drawings when I am at 'meetings' ...I just wanted to post something. A wonderful barista at Peet's in Newton gave me a cd of her band's music and it was great!!! Her band is called Absinthe Rose and I was so blown away. If I wasn't so aged I would even go to a show! http://www.absintherose.com/ Please check them out.

I Love Wite-Out Pens

2010-05-15T15:00:00.006-04:00

April Fools

2010-04-01T22:43:00.002-04:00

Well, hello dere

2010-04-01T22:41:00.000-04:00

2010-03-27T20:33:00.000-04:00

unconvinced

2010-03-26T15:53:00.000-04:00

2010-03-26T00:18:00.000-04:00

smarter than everyone

2010-03-25T09:36:00.001-04:00

2010-03-25T09:35:00.000-04:00

2010-03-25T09:34:00.000-04:00

can't sleep

2010-03-25T09:03:00.000-04:00

2010-03-24T22:18:00.000-04:00

2010-03-22T12:35:00.000-04:00

some new digital drawings

2010-03-21T21:27:00.000-04:00

web men

2010-03-20T22:33:00.001-04:00

man in a web

2010-03-20T09:38:00.002-04:00

click to enlarge

one more post for today

2010-02-25T22:33:00.000-05:00

nobody, not even the rain

2010-02-25T14:51:00.003-05:00

I made a book for my wife for our wedding. A series of relief prints set to a lovely poem by ee cummings.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

any experience, your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and

my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

the power of your intense fragility: whose texture

compels me with the color of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens; only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Carole G

2010-02-25T14:47:00.002-05:00

My friend Carole. I enjoy her company so much. She makes me laugh and laugh. She doesn't know I drew her portrait...

Galway City

2010-02-25T14:44:00.001-05:00

for theresa

2009-01-13T20:27:00.003-05:00

2008-08-26T21:51:00.000-04:00

looking for peace

2008-08-22T21:34:00.002-04:00

2008-08-22T09:58:00.001-04:00

can't sleep

2008-08-20T02:41:00.000-04:00

please ignore the dark shadow in the middle of this piece

2008-08-17T15:42:00.006-04:00

I had sold this piece at last year's Open Studio to two women, one of whom I saw today (yes, I did leave the house for a moment).

She mentioned this painting and I remembered painting it. I decided to post it even though the photo of it has a big shadow in the middle of it. I will have to get Mary Anne to show me how to fix it in Photoshop.

I have done a little work this weekend and have a little, tiny, eensy bit of hope that I will be okay if I do the things I need to do. Sorry if that sounds vague but I don't know you very well, do I?

water logic

2008-08-13T22:13:00.001-04:00

radical acceptance, thinkin' 'bout

2008-08-12T15:12:00.001-04:00

positive intentions

2008-08-11T22:22:00.002-04:00

another

2008-08-05T23:47:00.000-04:00

one still life - lemon

2008-08-05T23:44:00.000-04:00

a repeat

2008-07-21T19:30:00.001-04:00

2008-07-17T14:23:00.000-04:00

Hyde Park ArtScene

2008-07-07T12:51:00.005-04:00

I will be there in my booth Saturday, July 19, from 4 - 9 pm.

Please come.

today

2008-07-05T15:54:00.001-04:00

Emotion. Words.

Waste. No clear delight.

No light under my fingers. The room, The

Walls, silent & deadly. Not

Music

-Leroi Jones

Note to self

2008-07-03T15:08:00.004-04:00

Continuing to regularly post this paintings and drawings - sending my work out into the cyber ether - is a large part of my studio practice. Right now, in fact, with this latest episode of depression I was not able to do anything other than my little sketchbooks.

I started this blog (hate that word) - this Painter's Journal to move me into developing a more rigorous and conscious practice. And I suppose it is in a very slow way. Or maybe its the analysis, or maybe its the medicine, or maybe its the love of a good woman. Who knows. I find myself thinking of what to post, what I will use for a title and, especially, I wonder, "does anyone look at this crap? If they do why don't they respond in some way? What the Fuck??'

It feels lonely but important to me. So I continue. By keeping this journal I am talking to myself, to the artist in me and I am saying, "Come on! You can do it! Keep working. Keep trying."

Analysis

2008-07-01T23:02:00.000-04:00

Well, it does feel this way sometimes.

Less dead

2008-07-01T22:38:00.004-04:00

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white

chickens.

--William Carlos Williams

Struggling. Of course, the fact that I can even say that is proof (to me) that I am somewhat better today.

For the first day of summer

2008-06-21T07:57:00.001-04:00

Saturday post

2008-06-21T07:51:00.000-04:00

another one

2008-06-17T18:38:00.005-04:00

I always have my sketchbook with me and make these very busy drawings. I also carry watercolor pencils and a brush so I can paint. If you click on these images they will show a lot more detail...

recent sketchbook image

2008-06-17T18:33:00.000-04:00

Painting on mylar

2008-06-17T08:25:00.000-04:00

Words to live by . . .

2008-05-18T12:15:00.006-04:00

Clownliness is next to Godliness.

I actually hate clowns. They totally creep me out. I don't even know why I am posting this. It is actually a perverse portrait of someone and after I drew it I realized the clown connection. She always creeped me out, too.

SOLD!!

2008-05-14T00:19:00.002-04:00

I sold a painting!! The above, Wandering Thought #1, is now in the private collection of Ellen and Campbell Burke of Jamaica Plain, MA.

Boy, do they have good taste!!

new work

2008-05-12T09:09:00.000-04:00

May Day

2008-05-01T13:34:00.004-04:00

My friend, Steven, is in Istanbul on an artist grant. There is rioting there. The Turkish police are hosing down the rioters. Steven is stuck in his hotel room, aware of what is happening in a city he has come to love. He has a wonderful blog at http://letterfromIstanbul.blogspot.com about his trip.

The above sketch was of some Palestinian children during the Intifada a few years ago. One child was made to kneel in front of the soldiers.

no sale

2008-02-26T02:04:00.003-05:00

So no sale. Felt awkward, stupid. Ah, what the hell. Its not like I can stop painting. And what if my work is no good? Does that mean I must not do it? Do I even have a choice?

It would be nice to be successful but knowing me I would probably doubt that too.

Anyway, bad day. And my tooth HURTS.

trying to make a sale

2008-02-20T14:25:00.002-05:00

So tomorrow I am showing a few of my paintings to a person at a nearby hospital. She may be interested in buying this one, maybe a few others. I am anxious. That is an understatement. I am terrified and if I could not go I would. It is an ordeal to show my work to anyone much less someone who will be judging it.

Ghost drawings

2008-02-11T06:39:00.000-05:00

Thor

2008-02-08T15:42:00.001-05:00

This is Thor Moen, a sweet young man who lived in our building with his girlfriend Lisa Cleal, a talented illustrator (www.lisamaycleal.com). Before they moved to Montreal I took some photographs of them and used them to do some drawing/paintings. If they had stayed longer I would have loved to have them pose for me.

Stephen Collins

2008-02-08T15:32:00.000-05:00

My nephew, Stephen, at the airport in Kansas City. 2005

more sketchbook

2008-02-03T20:24:00.000-05:00

Great Men, mostly white, one orange

2008-02-02T13:26:00.000-05:00

For Debbie

2008-02-02T12:51:00.001-05:00

Sketchbook page from 2005. What the hell is he thinking?

Analytic session

2008-02-02T00:11:00.001-05:00

Letter to my Mother

2008-01-28T15:07:00.000-05:00

Today is my Mother's birthday. She would have been 86 years old.

Large Painting

2008-01-21T22:14:00.000-05:00

I have been sick for the past few weeks. Feeling lousy.

This is a large, 5 feet by 5 feet, painting I did a few months ago. Thought I would try and get into the habit again of posting images. Mostly what I have been doing lately is scanning pages from old and not-so-old sketchbooks into my Mac. I had so little energy that was about all I could do. Then I would fix them in Photoshop, make them oriented and sized properly, etc.

Today I tried to do some work and was so empty I had nothing, nothing to say. Frustrating. Got to keep fighting.

Lucian's Irishman

2008-01-03T21:44:00.000-05:00

This is a drawing I did after I saw some of Lucian Freud's etchings. His etching line was exactly what I wanted to get with my technical pens... I added the watercolor later. for some reason I wanted him to be an Orangeman, not a catholic.

This is old drawing of mine but I was reminded of it because of the Freud show at MOMA. I tried to get down to NY last week. Wasn't able to go.

West End 2, Jones Beach, January 2007

2008-01-02T22:23:00.000-05:00

Cranberry Sky

2008-01-02T07:10:00.000-05:00

12" x 12", oil on canvas.

THOUGHT FOR 2008

2007-12-31T11:39:00.000-05:00

"You seem the same as always, and being you, hate every minute of it. DON'T! Learn to say "Fuck You" once in a while. You have every right to.

Just STOP worrying, looking over your shoulder, wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, gasping, confusing, itching, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, rumbling, rambling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose-sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long- waiting, small-stepping, evil-lying, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding, grinding, grinding away at yourself.

STOP IT AND JUST DO!

DO MORE.

More nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, more penises, cunts, whatever - make them abound with nonsense (. . .) You belong in the most secret part of you. Don't worry about cool, make your own uncool. MAKE YOUR OWN, YOUR OWN WORLD.

If you fear, make it work for you - draw and paint your own fear and anxiety. (. . . )

You must practice being

STUPID,

DUMB,

UNTHINKING,

EMPTY.

THEN YOU WILL BE ABLE TO DO !!!!

I have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting yourself, the work you do is very good. Try and do some BAD work. The worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell"

from a letter to Eva Hesse from Sol LeWitt, 1965

saying goodbye to 2007

2007-12-31T11:22:00.000-05:00

About Jane #6

2007-12-29T16:42:00.001-05:00

Jane Collins, Milly Coletto, Anna Pankow, Mary Collins Kastner

2007-12-29T16:35:00.000-05:00

Dear Mary,

Barbara forwarded your email to me and I was so glad she did. I know how sad you must be without your Mom. The world has become a much more barren place without Milly and my mom. All the Hughes girls, as you put it.

Much of the work I have been doing this year is because of the loss of my mom. And my father's sister, Mary, died a few weeks ago. She was buried in River Head, out on the island with a military service (she was one of the first woman Marines, is that wild?). Liz came up from Fla. and Bebo and Lynne came out from the city and I took the ferry down and met them.

I don't go out much. I am scared most of the time and am really struggling with depression. I am fat, don't move, etc. A real mess. But I am painting and trying to get my work on the web.

When we spread my mother's ashes at Jones Beach last January the wind was not blowing off the water. It usually does and we had been worried the ashes would blow right back at us. For some reason (God? My Mom? Global Warming?) the wind was blowing sideways, along the beach and I took a handful of her ashes and threw them into the sky and then, one by one, we all did. The wind took the ashes and swirled them around and around high into the air and they were all part of the sea and the sand and the sky. Mary, it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

We were all stunned. None of us expected it. In fact, I have spread lots of ashes of my friends over the years and never did I see anything like that.

On the way back to the car we were all quiet and I was picking up shells like we used to do with my mom. I saved a bunch of them. Not whole shells but those beautiful pieces worn and softened by time. And I carried 4 of them around in my pocket for the rest of the winter. I was finishing up school, which was very difficult for me and I would hold the shells and rub them and think of my mother soaring up into the sky at the beach she loved so much. It helped get me to graduation. In fact I never would have attended graduation or the honors convocation the night before if not for my Mom's memory (and the support of people who loved me). I had one of the shells with me throughout the ceremonies and I would hold it and feel it's 'eternal-ness' when things got tough.

I have done drawings of the shells and more drawings. I just keep at it, I don't know why exactly but it helps and doesn't help at the same time. No, it helps but it makes her death more real and it gives me a way to make something of it.

I got down to Long Island to my Aunt Mary's funeral in little steps. I did not know if I could do it because of my panic but I thought if I could get in the car and then if I could drive to New London I might be able to get on the ferry. And I thought if I got on the ferry I could stay in the car and maybe feel safe for the journey across the Sound. I got on the ferry. I could not believe it. And once I was there I couldn't very well get off the boat. So I made it to the funeral which was very important to me, to see my cousins, Tommy and Jimmy.

So I think it is all incremental, little steps. Thats what I am told and I hope its true.

I would also love to see you, Mary, and I know Maureen would (even Romeo has asked about you). Let us know what we can do. Please. Hope to hear from you.

Love, your cousin,

Kathryn (and Maureen)

About Jane #5

2007-12-29T15:13:00.001-05:00

About Jane #4

2007-12-29T14:31:00.002-05:00

About Jane #3

2007-12-29T14:29:00.001-05:00

About Jane #2

2007-12-29T14:28:00.002-05:00

About Jane #1

2007-12-29T13:12:00.002-05:00

Thought series #4

2007-12-28T10:18:00.001-05:00

30" x 48, oil and acrylic on canvas. The acrylic was done in 2005. I still have some finishing touches to do on this so it won't be finished until 2008! The acrylic was part of another series of mine.. I guess I work in series most of the time. I started doing self-portraits in my sketchbook in October and have kept doing them. I recently did another painting (60' x 60") that I realized was based on color studies I had started years ago and those are continuing. I wish I had 60"x60" canvases lying around the house. And loads of paint.

The original acrylic had the greenish background and also the window-like shape in it. I had, in my best art-school excitement, used the proportions of the golden mean to plot. In art school you can get killed for being too enthusiastic, unless, of course, you are copying your painting professors enthusiasms. But I was curious about whether the proportions would make a difference. Maybe they would have if the painting were better.

But when I decided to use the canvas that shape became a major influence on the painting. It did seem to exert an energy that I reacted to and I am satisfied with the work so far. Then the window, or energy field, crept into the rest of the work and is a factor in the pieces I am continuing to work on.

The first of the 'thought' paintings

2007-12-28T09:37:00.001-05:00

First one. I started it back in September, finished it in November. I have one more to post although I am working on another one now... These are all 36" x 36". A size I like especially for the experience of the first gestural loop of the 'thought'. But I ran out of canvases in that size so I grabbed a painting I had done in school and painted over most, but not all, of the first painting (acrylic) in oil. I will try and post that today.

Another Painting

2007-12-28T09:29:00.000-05:00

Second in the series. I needed to name the file when I first saved the photo of these paintings and I called them 'Thought' paintings. So this is 'Thought #2'. (It is also Maureen's favorite)

A painting

2007-12-27T21:04:00.001-05:00

Pretty recent. 36 by 36 inches. Part of a series I started in September. #3 or 4.

2007-12-25T22:23:00.000-05:00

Tired. Thought I would post a piece from one of my sketchbooks. Pretty recent. Reminds me of my Mom. Lately, everything does.

My friend, Debbie, gave me the title for the ink piece from a few days ago. She said it looked like a dog that had swallowed a cat. So that is the title, 'Dog Who Swallowed a Cat'. Thanks, Deb, you bailed me out again!

Thinking of my mother

2007-12-23T21:06:00.004-05:00

This is one of a series of drawings of sea shells I found on Jones Beach last January.

I can't think of a title for this one

2007-12-23T11:28:00.000-05:00

I used these new watercolor inks I found at the art store and loved them. But the colors faded so quickly it broke me heart. I should sue...

painting of the day (from yesterday)

2007-12-23T10:30:00.000-05:00

For my cousin, Jimmy

2007-12-21T17:55:00.001-05:00

Hey, Jimmy

Is this the sketchbook page you liked from my website? Let me know and I will send it to you. I need a piece of cardboard that would fit it. Also, what is your address?

Regards,

In the digital world, no one can hear you wrinkle...

2007-12-21T16:46:00.001-05:00

I love this print. It is one of a series I did in art school from five plates, using aquatint, intaglio, drypoint, stencils. Each one was unique and depended on the order and orientation of the plates, the colors of the inks and the wiping. I have sold one of them, maybe two. One hangs in my analyst's office, one my sister has one in NY (and a beautiful job she did framing it, too) and one my friend Debbie has but I don't know if she has framed it yet. I have two left and I take them out once a year at least to look at.

That is the thing about prints, though, they do need to be framed and framed well or it almost isn't worth it. One of the prints I have left is on a big piece of paper that is a bit wrinkled and really needs to be dampened and pressed - a process I know very little about. But in the digital world, no one can hear you wrinkle.

If I had the money I would frame one. (Actually, if I had the money I would help pay the mortgage or buy a few huge canvases or put more memory on my Mac or about a dozen other things)

This post is the thing, you know. For me to write about my work openly, to really say what I think about it...what works what doesn't according to my lights and no one else. . . . well, that is what I am here to do.

I think this print is fabulous.

2007-12-21T16:27:00.001-05:00

So this is my first post. My intent is to use this blog to show my artwork as it is in process. Further, I want to help myself begin to figure out my path as an artist. And my path in the business (I hope) of art. I have a lot of work I want to post and I don't know that I will have so much text to go with it. We will see. If you are visiting, thank you.

Kathryn