NEW HORIZONS

I  didn't jump out of the womb with a brush in hand. I came from a family of artists who encouraged us to express ourselves in creative ways. This old painting from high school reminds me that what talent I have comes from perseverance, lots of hard work, stacks of sketchbooks and paintings, portfolios of drawings, prints, and boxes of doodles. These have all led me forward to where I am today.

Some days I feel on top of the world and think I am "really good." But a brief glance at another artist's work will bring me quickly down to earth. Take a quick run through Pinterest and you will see what I mean. What I need to remember: I am having fun making art, I am not trying to be world-famous (well, maybe a little!), I am improving my skills, I am exploring all kinds of different media, and I have limitations, just like we all do. I can stand back and admire those people who continued through their lifetimes developing their skills. I am still trying to catch up.

What struck me about that old painting was its theme: horizons. I have shown you previously some paintings from a recent series I call Horizons.  I didn't realize that I was looking back to an earlier self as I created new paintings.

With two good friends, I visited the J.M.W. Turner exhibit at the deYoung Museum in San Francisco. We all marveled at his work. He has inspired me anew to continue with my Horizon series, now emphasizing the sky.

Since Turner was a master at clouds. I've been practicing clouds.

I tried masking some areas of white on this page by using masking fluid and a sponge. The sponge left marks that were too square, so I did some touch-up with the blues and violets to make the clouds more realistic.


Some of the same colors in this painting of mountains are the same colors I used in that old painting from high school. Life goes in circles, doesn't it?

A WEEKEND AWAY

Do you have a special place you like to go to unwind?

Many of my friends are traveling this month. We have plans too. We like to explore parts of California an hour or two away. We have been staying at some lovely inns in the last couple of years. Last weekend we spent some time at one of my favorites: the Mill Rose Inn in Half Moon Bay. HMB has pumpkin fields, beach paths, and good places to eat. A great place to go for a quick vacation.

The Mill Rose Inn was built in the 70s. Bradbury and Bradbury wallpapers, made by a company from Benicia (check out their papers at http://www.bradbury.com/victorian/talbert.html), cover the walls and ceilings. Plants and orchids fill every horizontal space. The inn serves delicious breakfasts in the dining room, which is sometimes used for wedding parties. After breakfast, we took our coffee out into the enclosed garden -- enclosed by tree roses that cover the trellises around the property. The birds splashed and called to each other in the fountain as we sat under an umbrella surrounded by roses, cosmos, and hydrangeas. We had a hard time leaving such a tranquil spot.

We finally wandered off, down the main street of HMB, walking by a good bookstore, Coastside Books,  http://www.coastsidebooks.com, several clothing shops, and handmade furniture stores until we turned around and headed to our car.

Winsor Newton paint kit which includes everything you need (except paper) to make art in a journal on the go.

We drove down to Bean Hallow Beach south of Pescadero, which is Bill's favorite in this area. I brought along my nifty Winsor Newton paint kit while Bill took photos of the beach, which is covered with small pebbles of every color.

I will leave you with Bill's amazing photos to enjoy!

Half Moon Bay has become another interesting food destination in the Bay Area. Here are a few of our favorites:

Pasta Moon   http://www.pastamoon.com

It's Italia   http://www.itsitaliarestaurant.com

Cetrella    http://www.cetrella.com

Good food, a good walk, and some sunshine -- what better ways to spend your days!

Other good inns near us that we have tried:

Seven Gables Inn, Pacific Grove   http://www.thesevengablesinn.com

Honor Mansion, Healdsburg   http://www.honormansion.com

Napa River Inn at the old Napa Mill, Napa  http://www.napariverinn.com

Tamales Bay Resort, Inverness   http://www.tomalesbayresort.com

Do you have a favorite place to stay within an hour or two of your home?

Autumn is in the Air

The slight chill in the air tonight made me swap my sundress for sweatpants and a sweater. The air reminded me of the first week in September in Paris, the time the Parisians call 'Rentree' (with an accent on the first 'e'), when everyone returned to the City from their August vacations. When school reconvened and the streets became busy again with shoppers, I knew that autumn had arrived. The air was cooler than the previous week and the sun set much earlier than the 10 p.m. we had enjoyed all summer.

A good friend, planning a trip to Paris, asked for ideas about where to stay, which flooded me with memories of our once-in-a-lifetime apartment in the 16th Arrondissement.

We were lucky to find the flat on rue de Lasteyrie. Colleagues from Bill's work arranged to transfer their apartment to us since they were returning to the United States. Not only was the apartment beautiful, but we could move right in. When Parisians say an apartment is unfurnished, they mean that only the sinks and toilets are already installed. We didn't have to install kitchen and bathroom cabinets, stoves, refrigerators, washer/dryers, and light fixtures which is common practice in Paris.  Tenants build in everything else because most people who live in Paris stay permanently. Our neighbor in the flat below us lived in her apartment for 60 years. As expats, we knew we had a very short time (2 years) to create a livable space.

The view from our windows

When one thinks of old Parisian apartments, one thinks of high ceilings, elaborate moldings, large French windows, balconies, and charming elevators. In our building we had all that. The charming elevator, though, was the bane of our days. No more than three feet square, our elevator just barely held 2 adults and 1 kid -- and that was before dinner. To get into the elevator, we had to pass through two sets of doors. We pulled the heavy metal and glass outer door open towards us, and then backed into the elevator because the second set were two swinging doors that opened towards the inside. Getting in wasn't too bad. Once we reached our floor, we opened the swinging doors towards us again. We had to hold them open just right with elbows, feet or fanny, as we pushed against the heavy metal outer door to get out. Otherwise, we'd get a bang on the head, a bang on our rear, or usually both as the doors swung back. Trying to get in and out with packages or the shopping cart was even more difficult. I can see the cartoon my dad would have made our machinations as we tried to exit the elevator in one piece.

The view from our dining room

The 150-year building that housed our apartment had its quirks. We lost our hot water in the kitchen for a week when the gas company arrived unannounced to replace the gas meter, even though we had had no problems with it. At the end of the week, the fixit man came to bring us hot water again. In a matter of minutes, by fiddling here and there, he brought our instant hot water back again (each sink/shower/bath had its own small water heater). Hot water is such a luxury!

Our guest bedroom where many friends stayed

We blew the fuses many times. Once the clothes dryer went out and blew everything else in the front part of the house; another time Bill connected a U.S. plug without a transformer. Each time an electrician came. As usual whenever we called an electrician (in Paris or home in California), the electricity quickly came back on because he knew which simple button to push.  All of these events sound normal for those of us who own houses, except that there the repairmen only spoke French. We got by with lots of sign language, laughter at my expense, and calls to the translator at the relocation company who helped us move in.

The flower shop around the corner

Our first September in Paris turned into a rainy month. The old-timers said that was unusual. The days without rain were blissful with bright blue skies and just-right temperature. We spent Saturday mornings people-watching at the local patisserie, where waiters smiled at our fractured French, and served us anyway. At first I tried to identify what a French person looked like, but I concluded that the French are as varied in appearance as Americans, perhaps the result of all those armies and bands of people passing through their country for centuries. The Parisians we encountered reminded me of the Japanese people whom we met while we were living in Tokyo: formal, polite, soft-spoken, and full of life. The French expression, joie de vivre, seems to fit.

The French use small gestures to call attention. A slight flick of the fingers is enough to attract a bus or a waiter. When they realize that you come in their shop frequently, they accept you and greet you with warmth. A smile or a laugh about yourself will get over many hurdles.

Outside our apartment on rue de Lasteyrie

If you are going to Paris anytime soon, email me at marthaslavin@gmail.com  I have a great list of Paris sites and activities that I can share with you.

A bientôt!

HARVEST

Luscious peaches,
juicy, sweet peaches.
Fuzzy skin
slips off easily.
Juice-dripping peaches,
down fingers, then arms.
The smell of peaches,
like the smell of chocolate chip cookies
fresh from the oven,
like the smell of new mown lawn,
like the smell of talcum powder,
like the smell of memories.
Clean smells,
whirling love into your brain.

I ate the last of our peaches yesterday. We had an even dozen. We were lucky. We picked them right after we found the remains of one peach on top of the dead tree stump in our backyard. A squirrel had used the stump as a dining table to feast on one peach. That's all he got. We knew the peaches were ripe then and plucked the rest.

Peaches, luscious peaches. Peaches are everything about summer. Even the skin reminds me of peeling off sunburned skin, so thin and fragile. We had peaches, even in this drought year when growers are having a hard time bringing in a crop. Our tree is placed in the right spot, full sun all day, enough to wilt the dogwood that the peach tree replaced, enough to dry up the vinca that used to bloom violet in the springtime. We planted the peach tree two years ago to replace other plants that had withered away.

We had peaches for the first time this year. We savored them even more than usual because of the drought.  We don't buy peaches because they never ripen. They never develop that heavenly scent of a peach cupped in your hand right off your own tree. The taste, like the taste of a just-picked tomato or a ripe ear of corn from the backyard, is like nothing we can find at the grocery or even at the farmers' market.

We don't grow much produce in our yard anymore. Too much shade, too many deer, too many squirrels and raccoons squandering their way through. They dangle from the branches to grab ripe fruit. They arch up on hind legs to reach perfect fruit before we can pick them. They peel the skins off the grapes we grow.

We've given up being farmers for the most part. What we have left are peaches, luscious peaches.

RECORDING LIFE

Do you love the feel of paper?

I know I do.

My one-day class with Sharon Zeugin, Calligraphy on the Go, at the Passionate Pen, was a technique- and inspiration-filled day using pen and paper. I brought with me some of my favorite pens to use: Pentel's Tradio Stylus, Zig's Cocoiro Letter Pen, several of Pilot's Parallel Pens in different sizes, and a Rotring Art Pen. The choice of paper was important too. I packed a Strathmore drawing pad as well as some sheets of Arches Wove. The Strathmore is a good quality drawing paper, but the Arches has a deeper feel. It is often used for printing because of its softness, but it is good for drawing and calligraphy too.

I brought along a fine point Sharpie, which is one of the few pens that I have that is waterproof. The other pens, when wet, create interesting washes that sometimes change color from black to brown or blue.  

Our class practiced gesture and contour drawings, skills I'd learned in high school. Either type of drawing is a good way to understand the form of something while drawing.

We drew rock walls. 

We went outside and sketched flowers in the garden. 

We washed water over the inks to see what would happen.

When the day was over, we were charged to go out and sketch and write about what we saw. I have plenty of sketchbooks filled with drawings and doodles. I have plenty of notebooks full of writing. Now I want to combine the two. I want to create an artist journal where not only am I sketching in the moment, but writing down my thoughts as they occur. I want each page of my journal to show more of a designed intent, rather than random wanderings (though that can be fun too).

That evening as I sat at a restaurant in Petaluma (see below for the list of my food finds in Petaluma) and drew the view of the old mill buildings as well as the herbs on my table and the seagulls looking for food.

A bike was propped up against a wall.

I was using a small booklet that I keep in my purse. The hard-finished paper accepts ink well without any feathering along the lines.

Once I was home, I began sorting through my stacks of papers that I've kept because "I knew they will be useful someday." I came across a small pile of stationery with the letterhead of my father's employer on it. My dad had attached postcards of antique cars to the papers, which he used for reference in his work.The paper is old and brown around the edges. It smells slightly musty. The rubber cement had long given up its hold on the cards, leaving the paper with the residue of glue swirls on them. I folded the papers in half, made a cover, and sewed the papers together as a sketchbook. 

The glue swirls on my father's stationery

The cover for my new sketchbook with a coloring book design

What a treat it will be to use papers that my dad had used. His collection brings back memories of sitting in his studio making drawings while he was working.


Check out Sharon Zeugin athttp://sharonzeugin.com

Good Eats in Petaluma. Petaluma is another California food haven:

Brixx's Pizzeria:
http://brixxpizzeria.com
Not your ordinary pizza place. Sit outside for great summer evenings.
Wild Goat Bistro:  http://www.wildgoatbistro.com  Local produce, fresh ingredients, right next to the Petaluma River
Graffiti:  http://www.graffitipetaluma.com  Another restaurant next to the river with yummy food!

WRITING WITH THE STARS #2

My head is still buzzing from the week I spent at the Passionate Pen Conference.

"Seismic Shift" solar plate print   Photo by my husband Bill

I chose two classes to fill my week: Sharon Zeugin's one-day art journaling class and Louise Grunewald's 5-day offering, Letters from the Sun, which used solar plates for printmaking. Every afternoon I came away from the classes completely worn out -- your brain is a muscle too -- and boy, did I work that one!

By the end of the week, I realized I'd found the answer to a problem I had been wrestling with for a long time. I wanted to combine letterpress with my own artwork. Though I had learned how to make  photo polymer plates to duplicate images that I had created, the techniques and machines used in the process needed more time than I have been able to find to embrace the procedure easily. With a solar plate, all I needed was the sun and some water.

The project below, They Would Have Been Cowboys, was printed using a letterpress and photo polymer plates. In order for me to accomplish this printing I needed access to machines that I don't have at home.

The transparency of my sketch

The photo polymer plate ready to print

This is a project done the traditional way setting type one letter at a time, with my sketch printed at the top.  To print the sketch, I first made a negative transparency of the sketch, and exposed that on top of a polymer plate in a light box. The polymer plate is then put through a washing machine that eliminates all of the exposed polymer leaving behind the image. Washing the plate also can be done by hand with a soft brush.

The solar plate process is different. A light box can be used to expose the plate, but the best solution is the sun. I put my plate outside for just a few seconds to expose it. I then took the plate to the sink and washed off the exposed polymer, leaving the image I wanted. I then let the plate harden in the sun for a short time before I placed it on the press, ready for printing.

The transparency of the sketch and the solar plate ready for printing.

Printed image

A 'ghost' print from the plate after the first printing

During the solar plate making class, the group collected plates made by class members and laid them on the press ready to make a group printing.

The plates are arranged on the bed of the press. A piece of dampened paper is positioned on the plates. Felts are laid on top and then the press is rolled over the plates. Louise Grunewald holds the finished print.

Louise Grunewald is a kind and encouraging teacher and allowed us access to the breadth of her knowledge. I walked away every day, first, tired, but also full of joy, knowing that I had found another true process for myself -- one that I could accomplish at home (that is, once I find a press).

Check out Louise's website at http://www.louisegrunewald.com

Next week I'll take you on a short walk as we observe the world around us in an artist's journal.

WRITING WITH THE STARS

Have you ever been a groupie?

Have you ever been transfixed when meeting someone else whom you admire? Have you blundered and gawked at someone else just because you know who they are? I did when I was young and walked by movie stars in Beverly Hills. But as an adult I thought I was over that awkwardness.

I attended  the Passionate Pen International Conference at Sonoma State with about 500 others.  We sat in the classrooms of the stars of the calligraphic world: Ewan Clayton, Denis Brown, Julian Waters, Loredana Zega, Monica Dengo, Pat Blair, the White House calligrapher, Barbara Close, and 48 others. We studied versals, 3-D letter writing, using a ruling pen and a flat brush, gilding, solar plate printing and much more. At the end of the week, we were exhausted and exhilarated by the creative energy surrounding us. We were groupies at the feet of the masters.

At break one morning outside my classroom, I walked beside a vigorous, bald-headed man who expressed concern about gilding in the dry California heat. I did't know that gilding required humidity and answered with some banality. We got to the refreshment station, and someone called out, "Hey, Massimo..." and only then did I realize that I had been walking with Massimo Polello, not a household name to most, unless you are a calligrapher. He is one of the 'calligraphy stars' whose work exudes energy, depth, and beauty. My mouth dropped open as I realized I had had a brush with greatness.

Later that week, as I sat at lunch, I introduced myself to the woman across the table. She answered, "I'm Connie Furgason."  I stammered, "I love your work!" (and didn't ask for an autograph.)

Groupie to my core!  A calligraphic groupie no less!

What is wonderful about these well-known calligraphers is their accessibility and willingness to share their craft. They come from Italy, Canada, Argentina and other places to teach for one week those of us who aspire to be calligraphers.

The instructors displayed their work at an extraordinary exhibit that chronicled beauty, meticulousness, curiosity, and hard-won skills. We all marveled at these expressions of this art form, whose intent is to communicate with a flourish of a pen. One of my favorite pieces from the show is a work by Marina Sora called In My Dream My Name is FUDE, which includes the following poem by that name.

In my dream my name was Fude.

I rested in a delicate mahogany case.

My hair was bright, soft and combed with much care and dedication.

It had been brushed till exhaustion by expert hands trying to line up every single strand of hair.

My skin was smooth and polished with the smell of willow and my slim body had the right weight to be embraced by a skilful hand.

In my dream I danced over the water surface.

Sometimes I slightly submerged until I caught it's humidity.

In other moments I felt slow, precise and meticulous.

Some other times my motion was quick, impulsive, almost gestural.

I left a series of strokes behind me, first a wet and brilliant stamp mark that fixed on to the surface like a sign when it dried.

These strokes shaped a written text.

When I woke up I understood I had dreamt of myself as a brush.

Fude means brush in Japanese.

1,80 x 2,30 mts

Sumi on Magnani Bianca, Modigliani Neve and wrapping papers. Wooden hanger and stone. Bambu mutt

Year: 2012 by Marina Sora

Extraordinary, isn't it? (Thank you, Marina, for allowing me to display your piece.)

Next week I will share with you some of the work I did in the class of another star, Louise Grunewald, Her class, Letters from the Sun, was full of the joy of working with creative people. In the meantime, check out these websites for inspiration:

http://sharonzeugin.com
http://louisegrunewald.com
http://www.conniefurgason.com
http://www.lacalligrafia.com
http://www.marinasoria.com.ar/eng/index.html