Elizabeth Adams's Blog, page 41

Forsythia

I've been using the hashtag #strugglingtowardspring on my Instagram account, and it continues to be true, as temperatures are still dipping below freezing at night and barely reaching 50 during the days. We don't have any leaves on the trees, though there are buds, and little green leaves on some shrubs. No tulips that I've seen, just a few early daffodils and hyacinths, so the forsythia has been extremely welcome.

The community gardens open on May 1, so after that I'll have access to my garden and a wider range of subject material. I "stole" this little sprig from the park when it was still tightly budded, and enjoyed watching the flowers open. It always reminds me of my father-in-law, who loved it because it reminded him of his first springs in New England after immigrating from the Middle East. We always took him some branches from an unruly bush we planted in our own yard; the other day J. and I were wondering if that bush is still there, or if the new house owners decided it was too much trouble to prune it back every year.

An artist mentor of mine, during those years in Vermont, once asked me "what is the is-ness of a zinnia, a pair of shoes, a person? That's what you have to search out. And it doesn't reside in details." Over the years I've come to understand much better what he meant than I did at the time. There is a sort of shorthand for everything, even our faces - not a caricature, but particular aspects of each thing in which reside its essence. I love plants for their sculptural quality, but I think another reason I enjoy drawing them is that the species are so individual. I can ask myself this question and try to capture, quickly and freely, what makes - for example - forsythia "forsythia." Drawing is a way to search out and learn that, and once you have a handle on it, you can start to use that essence more creatively. Until then, you're just copying and getting caught up in details. Often, I realize while drawing that I've been looking at an object or a plant or animal for years and years -- appreciating it a lot, even loving it -- but not really seeing it fully. And that "essential quality" is never more tricky, more elusive, than when drawing your own face.

 

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Ten Years Ago

Text from this blog, ten years and a lifetime ago; images from this week in Montreal.

We drove to central New York to visit my parents. Spring is just coming to the fields and farms, and the land was tender and beautiful: the first velvety green on the hayfields, the yellow tresses of the willows in the swampy hollows between hills, the cows slowly walking out from the barnyards, chickens roaming happily behind houses. Tractors plowed wide dark brown swaths across the valleys, and the entire landscape smelled sweetly of manure. Behind one barn, a middle-aged man followed his aged father out to the field, the latter in a cap and dungarees, walking strongly but bent, holding a long green stem of something in his hand.

Crows and geese and blackbirds and hawks were everywhere, and letting you know it; deer grazed - the occasional alert ears raised to face the road - in the edges of fields and turkeys brazenly pecked close to the road. A heron flew low over our house, on its way to some morning hunting of the spring peepers, maybe, who had been so vocal the night before, and just beneath the slightly rippled surface of the lake, four carp swam lazily, their backs to the sunlight. I dug a few worms and fished a little with my mother, in the same sun, and -- other than the jet trails in the blue sky far overhead -- it felt like we could have been in just about any century of the last four or five.

--

My mother died a month later. I've been thinking about her a lot lately: good thoughts, but I'm incredulous that it's been ten years without her.

 

 

Questions and Answers about Art and Printmaking, Part 2

10. What are some of the challenges you have faced and how have you handled them?

Printmaking always carries technical challenges, and I continue to improve my skills and experiment with new materials and techniques. There's no substitute for experience. In all of the arts, we face the challenge of not becoming discouraged, and the risk of "failure," whatever that means to each of us. We need to continually push ourselves in new directions, and not get stuck in repetition. I'm happiest when I am learning new things and pushing myself, so I try to remember that. I'm over 60 now so I've been at this a pretty long time, and hope to be a creative person until my last breath!

 

11. Which age group do you find your work appeals to most?

I have no idea! It seems to be a broad range.

 

12. Apart from selling your art online, do you market your work in galleries?

Not anymore. The art world has changed a lot. I haven't been associated with a gallery for more than twelve years; I started a blog around that time and began selling online and to personal friends instead. It's more work to do it this way, but I don't have to pay commissions, and I don't mind because I've always had a business and like those aspects of the work. Many artists just want to do the creative work and are intimidated or inexperienced with sales, finances, and marketing, or even think it's beneath them. I think that's too bad. If you can do it yourself, there are a lot of advantages.

 

13. What advice do you have for an aspiring printmaker?

On the art side, my primary advice is to draw every day. Keep a sketchbook and just spend some time each day working in it, drawing ordinary objects, people and scenes from your life. It's like a journal to a writer - an indispensable aid to the eye and hand and the best possible practice. Look at a lot of work and try to understand why certain art appeals to you. Study it. Join printmaking groups on Facebook or other social networks - there are some very good ones where members not only share their work but discuss techniques and all other aspects of art and business.

Making prints and improving your technique is of course very important, but it is through drawing and studying good work of others that you'll begin to learn what makes an excellent print. Study composition and design in particular. Printmaking relies on our ability to use positive/negative space. Drawing in ink, with a large brush, or large pieces of charcoal or graphite, can help us learn how to create a dynamic composition with a good balance of positive and negative, but when you get too tight with small pointed drawing tools, it's hard to see that. So work large sometimes, turn the work sideways and upside down, learn to see it abstractly.

Show your work to others and get comfortable with criticism from people whose opinion you respect. You don't have to take it all to heart; the point is to get to where you can listen objectively to constructive criticism and learn from it, but not be discouraged or thrown off-course, because you gradually become more and more clear about your own work and its direction. Each piece you do is part of the learning process; don't look on it as either a failure or a final achievement, but as stepping-stone to the next piece, the next step on your path.

On the practical side, get comfortable with the business of art. You will need computer skills and a good sense of business in order to be successful, and it's best to accept that this is part of the package and learn to do it early in your career. Most of us will have to supplement our art income with teaching, design, or another job entirely. That's fine, but never lose sight of what your real passion is an make time for it, and you'll be a happier person throughout your life.

Work hard, enjoy it, and good luck!

 

Questions and Answers about Art and Printmaking, Part 1

A printmaking student recently found my work online, and asked if she could interview me for a class assignment about my artwork, career, and practice. I don't get asked these sorts of questions often, and found it was a good exercise for me to have to formulate a careful response. After writing the answers up for her, I asked if she'd mind if I shared the interview with you. She said she'd be honored, so here we go: I'll post them in two installments to keep the individual posts within a manageable length, and add some illustrations.

--

Reclining nude by Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Die Brucke.

 

1. Are there particular artists whose work you greatly admire and who may have influenced your own work?

I've been influenced by the relief prints of the German Expressionists, especially the artist collective known as Die Brücke.

A woodcut by Frasconi.

Other favorites are Antonio Frasconi and Leonard Baskin. I'm intrigued by the work of contemporary British artists Angie Lewin, Mark Hearld, and Angela Harding.

A whimsical two-color linocut by Mark Hearld

But my main artistic influences in general have been Picasso, Matisse, Gauguin, and Cezanne.

 

2. Which type of art do you enjoy most and why?

I love paintings, drawings, and prints of all kinds and from all periods - I especially like Flemish/Netherlandish Renaissance paintings, the post-impressionists, and abstract expressionism. But I also love contemporary sculpture. Once a year my husband and I go to Mexico City, and our focus is to look at art. Mexico has a particularly strong tradition of design, art, and craft. This past year we saw magnificent pre-Colombian sculpture, and some sculpture done by an artist named Javier Marin in the past decade and was the best I've ever seen. Yet he is virtually unknown outside Mexico. There are some fantastic contemporary printmakers working in Mexico using linocut - you can find them on Instagram.

 

3. Of all the pieces of art you have done, which is your favourite and why?

A large watercolor portrait I painted way back in the 1980s. It's very free and just kind of worked out magically.

 

4. For your relief prints do you work only with lino or do you use other materials?

I only work in lino. I've done woodcuts, but find them very time-consuming.

 

Me, making a print

5. Do you sometimes use a press to make your prints or are all your prints hand printed?

All of my prints are printed by hand on relatively thin Japanese paper; I feel this method gives me the most control. I have a cast-iron book press with a crank on top that I occasionally use but I'm not happy with it for printing; I'm thinking of buying a small relief press in the next year or two in order to print on heavier papers, but think I will always continue to do most of my printing by hand.

 

6. Do you prefer to use water-based or oil-based inks and why?

I use both. Oil-base inks give the sharpest edge and densest color, but I appreciate the easy clean-up and non-toxicity of water-based inks and use them more often.

 

7. How much time do you devote to printmaking as opposed to graphic design, other types of art and writing?

Maybe 1/3 printmaking, 1/3 graphic design, 1/3 art and writing.

 

8. Apart from the internet, where and how do you sell your work?

To friends and other people who have seen my work in person.

 

9. How does printmaking compare with your other art disciplines in terms of income generation?

My sales of prints are relatively small; historically I have made much more money from commercial graphic design. Sometimes I have a painting commission, or sell a painting or pastel.

I also have a publishing company (Phoenicia Publishing) - I am designer and editor of the books - and last year I published a poetry anthology called "Annunciation," with the work of sixteen invited poets, and illustrated it with my own linocuts. That book sold well online and to friends, and I think it was partly because the illustrations and design made it a special book. So that is a commercial application of printmaking. I also sold some individual prints from that project as a result, and gave a print to each of the poets who participated. All of this increases visibility and credibility, with each discipline helping the others.

(to be continued)

April

Eliot insisted it was the cruelest month, and ever since he's been quoted repeatedly by the winter-weary, even though complaints about long-delayed spring were not really the thrust of the opening lines of The Wasteland.

Here in Montreal, this has been a particularly cruel April -- not because it's mean of spring to "breed lilacs out of the dead land"  or "stir the dull roots" after a long winter's forgetful sleep, but because our human hopes for spring have been dashed again and again. While friends further south are posting photos of magnolias, daffodils, and green grass, we have mud, ice, piles of grey snow, and not a single green bud on any tree. Worse, every time the weather has gotten warmer, and the cafe chairs been pulled out onto the sidewalks so that Montrealers can huddle outside in the blessed sunshine, wearing parkas and clutching coffee cups, we've woken the next day to yet another snowfall. Yes, rain comes and the snow dissolves and melts, creating more mud and grime, but so far the longed-for final release of winter's grip hasn't happened.

We all get fed up and depressed, but I've found that taking pictures has helped this year with the tangle of emotions this transition period seems to bring up. As in November, there is a de-saturated beauty to these April days, and looking harder to find it as I walk through the quiet streets and ruelles has somehow been good for my spirits.

My thoughts, as I walk, have been cast not toward my friends and neighbors in warm, noisier, more colorful climates, but to unknown compatriots in places like Stockholm, Oslo, Moscow, and I've felt like allowing my eyes to do the work rather than my words. And so I've turned to Tomas Tranströmer, who writes about April in a way that makes sense to me:

 

April and Silence

Spring lies forsaken.
The velvet-dark ditch
crawls by my side
without reflections.

The only thing that shines
are yellow flowers.

I am cradled in my shadow
like a fiddle
in its black case.

The only thing I want to say
glimmers out of reach
like the silver
at the pawnbroker’s.

--translation by Patty Crane

Bright Scythe: Selected Poems, Crane's new translation of Transtromer's poems, was released in January and has received much acclaim. I don't have it yet, but I'll be buying a copy soon. Transtromer's voice is not comforting, but it is true, especially for those of us who live in cold places and over our lives find meaning in the harshness of our climate, the daily necessity of struggling with it, and our attraction to its desolate and pristine beauty. I understand the poet all the more as I grow older, and choose not to leave our wintry home for an easier four or six months. Getting away for a week or two is one thing, but cutting winter out of your life entirely is another -- for me, that would be cruel, because I know it would feel like cutting out a part of the cycle of thought that feels intrinsic to my experience of life.

A voice from the past, and a request

Some of you will no doubt remember the blog "Code Name Nora", written by Mary McPhee from her retirement home. I loved its unpredictable take on the subject, the details, the narrator's "voice", and her lively writing, and followed it with great interest. But then it ended and eventually I stopped hearing from the author - I've wondered (and worried a little) about what happened to her.

Well, on my previous post, Mary left a comment! She's well, and still writing novels - she says she stopped blogging in order to concentrate on her longer written works, and has published ten novels - including Code Name Nora - via Amazon Kindle. Her latest novel is currently in the nomination process for Kindle Scout, a new program, and she asks readers for some help:

My book has--had--thirty days to get "nominated" by readers as something they'd like to read.  There are 15 days left in my nomination period.  After that, Kindle will decide if it wants to publish my book by their publishing arm.  It brings with it a small advance and help with marketing.

I haven't got a whole lot of nominations because I'm not so active on the internet any more.  Or with this blog.  So I decided to post something about the book here in the hopes I can get a few more "noms."  If you read this, and feel so inclined, here's the link to go to:

https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/ATRY9CUKKDWP

I've gone there and nominated her book, and I hope some of you will too - it takes just a few minutes and if she is one of the winners, you'll receive a free copy as well as giving her a well-deserved boost. I certainly want to be writing and creating if and when I make it to my later years; I admire Mary and wish her all the best.

Parsley, the family vegetable

Still life with parsley, green glass bottle, and beaded flowers. Watercolor, approx 6" x 6". April 3, 2016.

J. and I have often joked that I should have carried some parsley in my wedding bouquet, it's that ubiquitous and important in our family cooking. We are never without a large bunch or two in our fridge, waiting to be turned into taboulleh or added to rice pilaf, meat dishes, fish, a soup or stew, or just eaten sprig by sprig. Mint and parsley are the essential herbs for Middle Eastern cuisine. So I wasn't surprised when, visiting our niece last weekend, we saw a bouquet of parsley as part of the still life arrangement on her dining room table. During the weekend, parsley made its way into a tray of kibbeh, and kibbeh-yogurt soup the next night, as well as being an essential ingredient in our niece's recently-invented house pesto, which doesn't use either garlic or basil, but instead, freshly-chopped parsley, mint, cilantro, and pine nuts, seasoned with olive oil and sweet lemon: it was a fabulous hors-d'oeuvre served with goat cheese and French bread.

The painting/drawing, however, was not only a chance to suggest the frilly leaves of parsley, but to explore green in its various shades and textures. I've drawn that glass bottle and the beaded flowers before, but this one was more successful. The washes of color went onto the page first, and then the lines, which I tried to keep as economical as possible. I'd like to try it again as a pure watercolor, but unfortunately we're back in Montreal, having left snowy New England behind. It's still cold here, but the light says "spring," and pretty soon there will be a pot of parsley growing on our terrace, ready to be snipped for supper.

A little gift...

I'm having a sale at Phoenicia, in honor of spring and National Poetry Month. A couple of days ago I made some new hand-printed bookplates, and will be giving one away to each of the first five people to place a direct order.

All the full-length books are on sale, including Annunciation and How Many Roads?

Bookplates and prints are also for sale in the new Store on the website. Hope you'll take a look.

You know, I feel so fortunate to be able to work with the authors and artists whose work we have published. I wish I could bring out more books each year but it's just too difficult - this is basically a one person operation, with some generous help in certain areas from my partner, and it's time-consuming and costly, while being extremely rewarding from all other points of view. I know a lot of you have supported this endeavor over the years and this is a chance to say, again, thank you - both from me and from the authors themselves.

I love what Dave Bonta wrote on Facebook when he shared the announcement: "These are all good. Some are down-right great. (I know because I have read all of them.)" That's about the most straight-forward recommendation I can imagine!

Happy Easter

et Joyeuses Pâques!

John Donne, Annunciation and Passion

"Departing Wings." Linocut by Elizabeth Adams from Annunciation, Phoenicia Publishing 2015

It's rare for the Feast of the Annunciation and Good Friday to occur on the same day. In the 21st century this only happened in 2005 and 2016 and won't occur again for a century. When this happens, the Church usually separates the observances; the nnunciation will be celebrated later in April. However, John Donne pondered the convergence of these events in 1608, as I did yesterday during the long, solemn services, my awareness of the Annunciation and of Mary herself - young naive girl, and sorrowing mother - having been sharpened this year by the book project I completed in December.  I always find it easier to read Donne's poetry out loud, and enjoyed doing that with this extraordinary poem that I had never read before, sent to me yesterday by a friend on Instagram.

Upon the Annunciation and
Passion Falling upon One Day.
John Donne, 1608

Tamely, frail body, abstain today; today
My soul eats twice, Christ hither and away.
She sees Him man, so like God made in this,
That of them both a circle emblem is,
Whose first and last concur; this doubtful day
Of feast or fast, Christ came and went away;
She sees Him nothing twice at once, who’s all;
She sees a Cedar plant itself and fall,
Her Maker put to making, and the head
Of life at once not yet alive yet dead;
She sees at once the virgin mother stay
Reclused at home, public at Golgotha;
Sad and rejoiced she’s seen at once, and seen
At almost fifty and at scarce fifteen;
At once a Son is promised her, and gone;
Gabriel gives Christ to her, He her to John;
Not fully a mother, she’s in orbity,
At once receiver and the legacy;
All this, and all between, this day hath shown,
The abridgement of Christ’s story, which makes one
(As in plain maps, the furthest west is east)
Of the Angels’ Ave and Consummatum est.
How well the Church, God’s court of faculties,
Deals in some times and seldom joining these!
As by the self-fixed Pole we never do
Direct our course, but the next star thereto,
Which shows where the other is and which we say
(Because it strays not far) doth never stray,
So God by His Church, nearest to Him, we know
And stand firm, if we by her motion go;
His Spirit, as His fiery pillar doth
Lead, and His Church, as cloud, to one end both.
This Church, by letting these days join, hath shown
Death and conception in mankind is one:
Or ‘twas in Him the same humility
That He would be a man and leave to be:
Or as creation He had made, as God,
With the last judgment but one period,
His imitating Spouse would join in one
Manhood’s extremes: He shall come, He is gone:
Or as though the least of His pains, deeds, or words,
Would busy a life, she all this day affords;
This treasure then, in gross, my soul uplay,
And in my life retail it every day.

--