It's been a busy year (and it's only April!). I've been steadily painting, teaching, and volunteering, so blogging hasn't been a priority. But I'm excited about a new painting in my "Patching Things Up" series, and I wanted to share how this particular piece (#5 in the series) came together.
I took pictures after each step (see gallery below) to document the process.

As is typical in my work, I began with an old, failed watercolor painting. Originally, I wanted to depict a person's feet in shallow water, but I wasn't happy with the awkward shape of the feet, and ended up marbling over the piece (that webbed look comes from dropping a dispersant in the marble bath). The painting sat dormant for year until I decided to superimpose on it my drawing of two women. I like how their bodies overlap slightly (like a Venn diagram). Once I started putting in my dark values, I began to see this piece take shape. I added my own collage paper (dark blue) to the dress of the foreground figure, and then used white to provide some calm, non-patterned shapes. I'm most pleased with that blast of red in the background figure--leaving no doubt about where my focal point is! As for the title/concept, it's a play on words--I've literally "patched things up" by fixing a failed painting, but, read a different way, life is about patching things up with our friends and loved ones.

Conversing with Liz Walker: A Self-Proclaimed Lucky Woman
 November 26, 2013 at www.voicecatcher.org

by Yolanda Wysocki

Liz Walker was the featured artist in the Summer 2013 issue of VoiceCatcher: a journal of women's voices & visions. 
Speaking with Liz is inspiring. Her enthusiasm, passion and love for art sing through the phone lines. Here are some of the highlights of our conversation:

Yolanda Wysocki: What gave you the confidence to pursue art in the first place?

 Liz Walker: My parents raised me to be what I want to be, saying, “Pick something you’re interested in and do it.” I always liked drawing, painting, doodling. As a kid,  I attended summer art/drama programs at the university where my dad taught. It  was heaven! When I started college I thought I’d major in psychology; I took one psychology course and said, “NO! That’s not it.” Then I had an art teacher who figuratively “set my hair on fire” with his passion for art and that set me on my path.

YW: You also teach.

LW:
When I teach I learn so much because I have to break down every step, and I love demonstrating because all the “oooohs” and “aahhhs” make me feel like a magician. We’re all impressed by things we can’t do, but we all have to go from
ignorance to experience. It took me five years to learn watercolor. I’m a slow learner.

YW:
So what made you stick with it?

LW:
I get one great painting for every ten “so-so” paintings. You get excited, you frame it, you give it away or sell it and it brings joy to another person. I think even a lousy day painting is better than a good day working in an office, which I used to do.

YW:
What do you love best about creating art?

LW:
The quieting down of myself and tapping into the imaginative. I’m such a practical and efficient person; but with art, I’m more spontaneous and free. I’m completely fearless in my painting but get a bit scared at the thought of driving in heavy traffic. Also, everything I paint can be touched again, manipulated, and repaired. And I never throw anything away. Sometimes five years later I will go back and think, “Oh, I know what to fix now.”

YW:
How do you stay inspired?

LW:
I want to be with people who are as excited about the same things I am, and strive for excellence among artists I respect. I’m in a critique group; and sometimes another artist’s small suggestion helps me improve a painting. I often submit my work to juried shows; whether I make the cut or not, I look very carefully at the accepted paintings. I talk with the jurors and ask about the
show, and sometimes they give me suggestions for improvement. And I don’t call a painting done until I love it.

YW:
On your website you say “the most interesting thing to paint is what you don’t know about yourself – the true meaning of a painting is beyond any story you can expect or imagine.” I’m curious; could you say a little bit more about what that means to you?

LW:
What I’m trying to do when I’m painting is leave things open enough so that the viewer can meet me halfway. I like it when people say, “That reminds me of something in my life”. Years ago, I had a painting called “Lady in Waiting” in a show at YMCA downtown. A woman called me and bought it a year after the show. She told me that the image spoke to her because she was walking with a cane and going to pool therapy every day at the Y. She said, “I feel like I’m a lady in waiting, like I’m waiting to get better.”

As to how I start a painting, I like sitting down and just moving some paint around. Years ago I used to carefully draw the drawings, and add paint – like color by numbers – but after a while that got boring. I studied with other teachers who suggested I put some shapes and colors down and then stand back and decide if I’ve got an abstract, or if there’s a figure or other subject matter in there.

 YW:
You started with watercolor, then acrylic, and are now using acrylic marbling in your work. What do you like about marbling?

 LW:
Randomness. Each piece is unique. I can play and experiment. I’m like a mother with her newborn baby – excited at each turn. I love it.

YW:
It sounds like you organize your life around making art. What suggestions would you make for those trying to nurture their art?

LW:
Even if you just have an hour or two, devote time to art. As long as you have a room or small space that is your own, so you can keep your art set up, make a mess; even if for only brief intervals. It’s so important. Also art cannot be created in a vacuum. Join a group of like-minded people; observe other more experienced and established artists and ask questions. All art is using other
people’s ideas and making them your own.

YW:
What question didn’t I ask that you wish I had?

LW:
How about--If I couldn’t do art, what else would I be doing? That question is too scary to consider! I think I will always be involved in art in some way, teaching, volunteering, and talking about it. I’m very lucky to be living my passion.

In the deep dark of December, amidst the rush of holiday preparations, I am always grateful for the gift of time that comes my way. My teaching gigs wind down and end  in early December and don't begin again until early January, so I "clear the decks" and pull out the 50-odd paintings that have been hanging around, partially finished, in my little studio room. Faced with a huge stack of paintings,  I make the following assessment for each piece: 1) attempt to finish 2) decide if there's potential  or 3) forget about it!

In most cases, my unfinished paintings stand at  about 80% done---but that 10% can entail a few hours' work, and when you multiply  2 hours by 30-40 paintings, that's no small feat.  

And the other issue: some of those paintings I do bring to completion end up migrating to the "forget about it" pile after all! But I won't know until I push through to the very end and FINISH.

Like the old sports slogan "the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat"--I sometimes don't know exactly which paintings will soar to great heights, or which will end up in the recycle bin. But, luckily for me, I enjoy the physical process of putting paint onto paper or canvas. And I do have a few pieces that I rescued and brought to a surprisingly nifty conclusion. So, no matter what the outcome is, I feel like the time I put in on my paintings is worthwhile. No, it won't end world hunger, or bring peace to all nations, but the season of finishing gives me a great deal of personal satisfaction and prompts me to start the new year with a fresh outlook on my art. 

It's been a long, busy summer, with back to back exhibits, a house remodel, and my ongoing volunteer work with several art organizations. Still, every summer, without fail, I manage to fit in a few marbling sessions. Portland's dry summers are perfect for letting marbled rinsed paintings "drip dry" on the clothesline.

When I first started creating acrylic marbled papers in 2007, I tended to put patterns/colors all over the paper uniformly. Now, feeling emboldened about seeing how far I can push this art form, I'm "free styling" my technique in hopes of creating  a happy accident. For example, I randomly drag my paper through the marble tray letting the color skip over sections of paper, creating some fresh white of the paper. It is in these "openings" that I can later develop some subject matter.

I've also started playing with my color mixes (just as I do when I'm painting in acrylics or watercolor). In the example I've provided here ("Walking After Midnight"), I managed to create my own version of indigo by mixing up mainly pthalo blue, plus a touch of burnt sienna and napthol red. I tested the color on a piece of paper first.  If my color got too muddy, I just added more blue.

I like the monochromatic blue/green of this piece, with just a hint of magenta in the mix (I also collaged in a magenta moon for balance). This is still a work in progress, but I think I'm very close to being done.

It's finally here---the end of 2012. As I mull over the large number of unfinished paintings in my studio, I realize that the good (and bad) news is that there are not enough lifetimes to complete all the ideas that run through my head (often at 3am, unfortunately). Nevertheless, I am a lucky person indeed if that's the worst of my troubles.

Normally, December is a fruitful time in my studio. I've finished teaching for the year and can concentrate long blocks of time on painting. However, this year I elected to get carpal tunnel surgery on my right (painting) hand. It's been difficult not being able to do much more than put a daub or two on a painting, but I know I am on the mend and just need to be patient.

Armed with a new ipad (with Siri voice activation), I realized that one thing I could do is make audio notes on paintings, describing how I might fix/finish them in the future. Sometimes just being able to articulate what you want to do to a painting satisfies the creative impulse--at least for the time being.

Here is a small sampling of some of my unfinished paintings---which may or may not see the light of day in 2013.

My acrylic marbled painting "On The Edge Of Her Seat #1" began simply enough. In my typical fashion, I "sculpted" the figure by muting/overpainting everything around the figure. Back when I began this painting in 2011, I thought I'd successfully completed this painting (see Step 4). I framed the painting, showed it to others who liked it, and put it into a few shows. Looking at it later, I felt like it still needed SOMETHING to make it stronger. So in October 2012, fellow artist  LaVonne Tarbox-Crone took a good look at this painting and taped some "mockup" pieces of magazine clippings to the piece (see Step 5) to show me how I might improve it. A few steps later (adding the horizontal line and then softening it a bit, and adding the white window panes behind the figure), and my painting was finally complete.

Admittedly I haven't been using my blog as often as some artists do, but since I'm very fond of showing & describing how a painting is built (from the ground up), I thought I'd post the various stages of one of my recent paintings "Rose Grid".

You can see that I started out with a mottled, stamped background (this is acrylic on Tyvek paper by the way).

Next, I drew a grid on the paper and created a vase (actually two vases) of flowers.

I added some more flowers and a few leaves (some are collaged on) and called it "Rose Grid". Enjoy!