I have a reputation among fellow artists as being tenacious--someone who never gives up on a failed painting. But it wasn't always that way. I have an old photo album (back when photographs were printed in a lab on glossy paper) that chronicles my first years of watercolor paintings and these photos are proof that I started out at the bottom of my artistic skill level just like everyone else. It took years of painting (maybe almost a decade) before I felt that I'd even begun to create the kind of watercolor paintings that I felt were worth framing or exhibiting.

Nevertheless, I persisted. And I hung on to each and every "failed" painting, figuring that I could always paint on the back, or if nothing else, retain a record of all of my ugly duckling efforts. As the years turned to decades, I found myself sifting through those "failed" piles of art and seeing parts worth saving and developing. With newly attained confidence and skills, I was able to transform some of them into finished works. Often the underpainting would be barely visible, especially as I began using collage and acrylics, which help to obscure what lies beneath the surface.

Fast forward to the present day. I've hit the 26-year mark as a dedicated painter, and I feel I'm at the peak of my powers. That doesn't mean I don't still have "failed" paintings, but I'm getting better about figuring out which ones are worth reworking. I am doing fewer "pure" watercolor paintings than before, and prefer concentrating on acrylic marbling and collage as my mediums of choice. But every once in a while, an exhibit opportunity comes along whose rules state that all paintings must be done in watercolor only, and I try to rise to the occasion.

Such is the case of a recently reworked watercolor I call "Home At Last". I only have 3 photos of this painting as it progressed over the years, because I didn't think to take step by step photos of each change. But you can see from my images, that this painting went from being a homeless man under a bridge, to a landscape depicting several houses on a hill. You can even see the crease in the paper where I'd folded it years before! I'd also wiped out/lifted most of the dark washes of watercolor from the paper using a wet sponge. It was only this year that I finally figured out how to add washes of color and connect the dark values in this painting. It's a small, odd sized piece: only 10 x 12" with a 18 x 20" frame. But I am very pleased that I was finally able to finish it. It was juried into the Watercolor Society of Oregon's Fall Show and will part of an 80-painting group exhibit at the Mount Hood Community College in Gresham, Oregon during the month of October.

When an artist dies, he or she leaves behind a stack of paintings---finished and unfinished. The artist's family has to decide what to do with all of the artist's paintings, brushes, and paints. In the case of Portland artist Carol Winchester, who died in March of 2015, her family decided to have a huge sale and donate the proceeds to one of Carol's favorite organizations, the Watercolor Society of Oregon (WSO). Since i am also a member of this group, I received an email about the sale. I wasn't sure what I would find, but what caught my eye as soon as I walked in the room were Carol's unfinished pieces---watercolor papers with a few lines or blobs of color on them. I knew they had potential, and I snapped them up right away.

Now the hard part---how to develop them. Since it was spring, I was in the mood for marbling in acrylics on paper. With no subject matter in mind, I set to work and began marbling. In some cases, the results were rather remarkable. Her line work peeked through the mass of colors I used, and later when I went to develop the paper further, I saw what looked like a cluster of  of birds--overlapping in very odd ways, but birds, nonetheless. Allowing the lines to be my guide, I created a painting I call "Find the Birds".

Here is a step by step look at how my painting "Find the Birds" (acrylic marbling on paper, 14 x 20") came together:

 

It's been a busy spring---teaching workshops, entering shows, and always remembering to perform my daily physical therapy exercises to make sure my (formerly) "frozen" shoulder stays flexible.

I was happy to learn that my painting "Inner Confidence" (acrylic on paper, 10 x 14") was juried into the Emerald Art Center Spring Show which is held each year in Springfield, Oregon (near Eugene). The juror was Portland artist Ruth Armitage, but since this painting was not done in my typical style, she may not have even known I was the artist. This is all to the good, because a painting should stand on its own merits regardless of who painted it.

"Inner Confidence" is aptly named because when I painted it last summer, I had to really "fight" with this piece of paper to gain control of it! It started out one way (with two figures) and just wasn't working so in a fit of pique, I turned it upside down, got a wide 2" brush filled with black paint and started covering up all the parts I didn't like. In fact, if you look at the step by step images below, you can still see the "ghost" of the previous figures. This painting was all about veils of color and layers---what to leave in, and what to paint over and obscure. 

You can't quite make it out in the final photo, but if you see the painting in person, you'll detect a faint trace of my (upside down) signature in the upper left hand corner. That's because when I first worked on the painting, I had such confidence, I signed my name AS IF the painting was finished. When I later turned it upside down, I forgot all about that faded signature.

Maybe signing my painting twice at two different times really does reflect my "inner confidence" as a painter. Or maybe it demonstrates my ability to see my art from more than one angle. At any rate, I never gave up on this piece of paper, and I'm glad I kept going until it was really FINISHED.

Since discovering marbling a decade ago, I have tried to explore and experiment with various types of paints (most acrylics, acrylic inks and airbrush colors) as I float them on the surface of a carrageenan "bath" to see what patterns and color combinations I can create. I thought I knew just about everything there was to know about marbling, but in the course of my research I happened upon a different marbling method called suminagashi.

Suminagashi is a fascinating Japanese paper marbling technique that uses water-based sumi inks floated on plain tap water. The word suminagashi literally means spilled ink. It is very different from acrylic marbling in that the thin boku inks (black, red, yellow, blue--a very limited palette) are more fluid and form thin concentric rings rather than fat rounded circles when dropped into the marbling tray. Also, the ink patterns absorb best on thin rice paper and not on standard printmaking or watercolor paper. This means that when I'm all done, I have to glue my delicate marbled rice paper to a heavier paper (if I want to further paint on it and develop it into a finished painting).

The advantage of suminagashi is that it only requires a few inches of tap water in the marbling tray, so the cumbersome and time consuming process of blending carageenan 24 hours in advance of marbling is no longer an issue. This makes suminagashi more portable when you want to take it on the road and teach it to others!

This summer I taught myself how to combine suminagashi and acrylic marbling into one painting. The trick is to do the suminagashi marbling first since it is often more pale than the acrylic marbling. Once the suminagashi marbled paper is dry, I then treat the paper with alum for acrylic marbling and marble a new pattern on top of the suminagashi pattern. The two patterns, while different, are often complimentary as they "criss cross" each other on the paper.

I will be teaching several suminagashi workshops in 2017; most are one day workshops in which we create stacks of marbled rice papers. But I aim to teach more of the two day suminagashi workshops (like the one I'm offering in July at Sitka Art & Ecology Center) because I'm excited about teaching others what comes AFTER the marbling process---how to turn patterns into paintings.

In the meantime, here is a step by step slideshow depicting how I turned one of my "combo" marbling papers into a finished painting called "Expecting To Fly #2".

I frequently post finished paintings on facebook, and enjoy getting comments and kudos about my work from artists and patrons. One artist asked me to explain a bit more about why I paint figures. She wrote: "Tell us more about your imagery; you use figures in many or most of your compositions and I would enjoy hearing about their significance."

I told her I'd write a blog on the topic because she got me thinking: how do artists choose their subject matter?  For me, it began back in 2001 or so when I got tired of painting realistic watercolors (still life, flowers, animals) and began taking experimental art workshops from teachers who showed me how to exaggerate shapes and work intuitively. I worked up the courage to paint tiny heads on big bodies, and use my imagination instead of trying to paint from photos.

Over the years I've modified my style, adding marbling to my repertoire, but one thing has remained constant: my interest in figures as shapes in a painting. I try to make them overlap and relate to each other...just like people overlap and relate in real life! On the face of it, I'm painting paper dolls for grownups, but it goes deeper than that. I consider the size, shape, and posture of my figures and try provide the bare outlines of a "story" so that when the viewers look at the painting, they can come away with their  own interpretation of events. As I work on a painting, a title often comes to mind (often from a song, a poem, or an idiom) based on what the figures are communicating to me. It's a method that has worked well for me, and makes me look forward to creating  my next painting.

Here is a glimpse into the stages of creating "Persons of Interest #3", acrylic on canvas, 8x8". Through a careful layering of stencils, I created complex patterns, and then used opaque, neutral color mixtures around the figures to create contrast.

August is one of my favorite warm weather months in Portland, Oregon, where I've lived for the past 17 years. This weather is perfect for marbling because papers can dry quickly on the clothesline in my backyard. Alas, I tripped and fell down on a downtown sidewalk last week and this has temporarily sidelined me from doing any marbling. Even though I am right-handed and can still do a little bit of painting with a brush, my left wrist (which took the brunt of the fall) is bruised, sore, and without much strength. No fractures, so I'm lucky, but it's going to take time and rest before I can resume my normal activities. I'm not even driving yet because I just don't have enough strength/mobility in my left wrist yet.

Although I can't marble at the moment (because it really is a two handed endeavor), I thought I'd share some of the double marbled papers I created earlier this summer. I finally figured how to do the "bull's eye" circle pattern using an eyedropper. I created rings within rings, and then after the paper was dry, I started all over again and marbled a tighter, radial ring pattern on top of the "bull's eye". I've barely scratched the surface on this new technique, so I'm anxious to try it again. Every time I marble, it's a slightly different experience--it's often hard to replicate exactly what I did before, but it's always worth trying. I've included 4 of my favorite papers from July. Enjoy!

I've been marbling and painting so much lately, I scarcely have time to write about my process. But I'm excited about an old failed painting in my "slush pile" that I managed to revive through a combination of re-marbling and overpainting (using acrylics) so I thought I'd blog about it.

"Windswept #3" (acrylic/marbling on paper, 12 x 16") began as a pale marbled figure with an outstretched arm, done mostly in blues. (I actually don't have a photo of the very first step before I turned the pale marbled paper into a figure).

You can see how delicate the original marbling was on this painting; after I finished marbling, I drew in the figure and put a blue wash using acrylics on her dress.

Then I added a sage green colored rectangle behind the figure in an attempt to break up the white background. I added a collage moon of sorts.

But really, this painting felt boring and pale, so I put in a pile in my garage--with other "so-so" paintings. I either paint over them later, or paint on the back side of the paper.

I always write in pencil the date completed (or abandoned) on the back of every painting; this one was from 2012. I continued to paint, marble, and work on other paintings, and 4 years went by. Last week, I happened to reach into my old pile of unfinished paintings (my favorite way to find inspiration) and came across this old painting. Suddenly I took the painting upstairs to my studio and decided it need BRIGHT orange and DARK blue to really strengthen it. 

Feeling brave, I added two new navy blue "ribbons" and even though I didn't love the painting, I thought I might try re-marbling it to see what happens. My goal was to cover some of that navy blue and better integrate it into the painting. 

To my surprise, the second go-round of marbling did the trick. I used synthetic ox gall to break "holes" into the marbling so the pattern would be wispy, not solid. My marbling colors were lavender, black and a bit of red.

Later, in the studio, I used a stencil to put light blue pattern over the two dark blue "ribbons" in the lower part of the painting (to better integrate them).

I THOUGHT I was finished, but then I showed this version to my critique group and we all agreed that the hair needed reshaping, and the "arm shaped" part of the scarf (which runs parallel to her actual arm) had to go.

I took the painting back up to my studio, and used several layers of orange/red acrylic to cover the long part of the scarf. I did some reshaping/overpainting of the hair and narrowed one end of the lower right blue ribbon.

Finally, I decided to crop the painting at the top---too much dark blue wasn't serving the rest of the painting. So it went from 12 x 18" to 12 x 16" but I think the finished piece is much stronger.

I titled it "Windswept #3" because I have two previous Windswept paintings that depict a woman in a similar pose.

Persistence is key---and keeping some old paintings around is not such a bad idea after all. Sure, there are many paintings that can never be revived, despite my best intentions, but I'm learning to recognize the ones that are worth my efforts.

I had an epiphany the other day, and I suddenly realized why I've had a good burst of completed paintings this month: I started with no (or low) expectations. I should explain that in the course of my many years of marbling papers (using acrylics), I've amassed quite a stack of lovely, patterned papers. I file them by year in my garage/storage space. Some of them are so lovely, I can't bear to paint on them, but others are, well, less than stellar.  So, I created a "slush pile" of the marbled papers that I really don't like. Maybe they are too busy, too murky, too blue, too red....they just don't speak to me. I contemplated selling them, or even giving them as gifts, but months went by and they continued to sit on a table untouched. I'd written them off as unworthy of developing into paintings.

Recently, I was organizing my paintings for an upcoming show, and came across these "failed" marbled papers. Suddenly, I grabbed a few and took a closer look at them: I began to see potential! Excited, I took a few papers up to my studio and began turning these failed marbled papers into finished paintings! The one I'm most pleased with is "Treehouse #6", acrylic marbling/collage on paper, 13 x 19". You can see the progression from raw paper to finished painting:

I've been using the technique of marbling with acrylics in my paintings for almost ten years now, and I never tire of the possibilities. Like a scholar pouring over one's books, I'm in search of further knowledge about this intricate medium. I plot and scheme to figure out what new techniques I might try in the marbling tray to get a different effect--one that surprises and delights me.

There aren't many books about marbling, and even if I could get my hands on them, many are out of print. Furthermore, paging through a book of color images and samples of marbled papers only provides you with the end result, and not the process of HOW to actually make the patterns.

My best bet is to keep experimenting with paint and trying new things. Sharing ideas with other marbling "nerds" helps, too.  I signed up for an online marbling workshop with its own private Facebook group where me and my fellow marblers can post our images and ask questions. The instructor checks in on scheduled days/times and helps us troubleshoot any problems we might be having. She also provides professional videos, shot from above the marbling tray, so that we can observe each drop of paint as it falls into the tray.


Thanks to this new avenue of learning and sharing, I am getting the courage to loosen up and break rules with my marbled patterns! I hope this shot of courage (as I ask myself "what if?") leads me to paint more innovative and interesting paintings in the coming year.

I marvel at the ways we artists can instantly share images of our paintings (even as the paint is still drying!) through social media like Facebook. As much as I like to complain about technology taking over my life, I have to admit that I enjoy the instant gratification that comes from posting a new painting and reading the comments of my friends, family members, and students. So far, the response has been overwhelmingly positive, and I've even drummed up a few unexpected sales! Another plus: friends have come to the rescue when I'm stumped and need suggestions for giving my painting a title. It's fascinating to hear other people's perspectives and insights about my work. If art is a conversation between the viewer and the artist, Facebook deftly facilitates that dialogue.

Thanks to my recently attained Signature membership in NWS (National Watercolor Society), I've become connected to an even larger group of artists on Facebook. Now I'm reading posts and seeing images from national artists (and they are seeing my work as well). Through these connections, I'm being introduced to even MORE artists whose styles intrigue and delight me.

How much is too much? It's up to you to decide how much time you want to spend online. I've heard of writers who disable their computer's internet connectivity while they write so they won't be constantly interrupted, and that sounds like a good idea. I tend to jump online after my morning coffee, and depending on my day, I check again at lunchtime, and again in the late afternoon. I confess that I sometimes I peek at my ipad when I get "stuck" during a painting session, but more often than not, my hands are covered in paint so I'm forced to keep to task!

All things considered, I am grateful for the technology that has allowed me to connect and share my work with others so quickly and efficiently. It's no replacement for in-person art exhibits, but its reach is far and wide--to people across the country and across the world.