The end of 2022 is fast approaching and many of us ask ourselves "where did the time go?". Those of us who are lucky enough to call ourselves artists (or more accurately, "people who make art") can point to the work we've created during the year and know that we've been measurably productive. Results may vary, since larger works may take an artist months to finish while artists like me (who work on paper in smaller sizes) can end up with a pile of paintings that number in the triple digits! In my defense, I've been painting over a lot of my lesser works, and delighting in the many complex layers I've created in my recent paintings.

Each year, I take stock of what I consider to be my "best of" paintings. This evaluation process helps me decide on what series I want to continue to work on, what I want to do less of, and where I ultimately want to focus my time and energy. To that end, I create a file folder on my PC, and drag images into that folder that I think were important to my artistic development. These images run the gamut from successful show paintings/award winners to humble experiments that didn't quite click, but still moved me in a new direction. I print out little thumbnail images, paste them into a notebook, and write a few sentences about *why* a particular painting is important to me, and what I learned from making it. It's a kind of personal "greatest hits" but it's also a distillation/concentration of where I'm at in my life and how that's reflected in the art I create.

One thing that moved me in a new artistic direction was rather unexpected. This past February, a friend told me about a free ZOOM mini course taught by CA artist/art coach Nancy Hillis. On a whim, I signed up. Hillis favors an abstract gestural style of painting and her mantra (which I embraced) is "surprise yourself every day in your studio". That one directive stuck with me. For a month, I dribbled acrylic inks over old paintings, and let things RUN amok! The results were, indeed, surprising and unlocked a new path for me: creating non-representational paintings! I started using this method whenever I got stuck or hung up on a painting that wasn't working, and I ended up with some surprisingly effective results.

Here's just one example of how I used this method to fix a painting that wasn't working. The painting on the left contained a figure that I wasn't particularly fond of (the head/hair wasn't quite right) but I still loved the yellow and green colors and knew I could capitalize on that. Once I started applying black acrylic ink with a brush, and adding some mid-tone purple, I was in the groove! I ended up with what I feel is a nice variety of shapes and harmonious colors in this small 11 x 14" painting "Down the Garden Path". At no point was I afraid of "ruining" this painting because I figured had nowhere to go but up! I've embraced that philosophy for the past decade or so, and it's resulted in some revived-from-the-dead paintings that exceeded all expectations and even SURPRISED ME! 

As I wrap things up for the current year, I am also gearing up for 2023. I have earmarked paintings for entry into national and regional exhibitions with January deadlines, done an inventory on my frames and mats, started planning for my solo exhibit at the Coos Art Museum in Coos Bay, Oregon in October, and organized materials for the ZOOM workshop I'm teaching in February.

All of these tasks are part of being an artist; they add rhythm and structure to my days, and keep me actively involved in the greater art community--for which I am extremely grateful.

When I create acrylic marbled papers, I often produce "dud" papers that are too pale, or uninteresting, or otherwise uninspiring to me. I save these in a big pile in my garage, and when I'm in the mood to repurpose them I sometimes marble these papers a SECOND time. This practice of overmarbling can lead to some interesting patterns (or, in some cases, a muddled mess!). The trick is overmarble big patterns onto small ones, or circular patterns onto stripes.

In this case, I had a beautiful overmarbled paper (on 140# cold press watercolor paper) that I thought I could perhaps turn into a painting. The circular marbling (a modified "tiger's eye" pattern) looked, to me, like hydrangea flowers, so I thought I'd try that idea.

I drew the vase and outline shapes of the flowers using water soluble crayon but everything was the same general color and value. Using acrylics, I painted teal in the background but that was too solid and boring, so after that dried, I used thin automotive detailing tape and applied it in striped formation on the teal. Then using a foam roller with off white acrylic paint on it, I lightly went over the teal section and then I pulled off the thin tape. It left a nice striped pattern in the background. I had some stenciled collage paper (on thin deli wrap) that I cut out for the tablecloth underneath the vase.

I used a white acrylic fine tip pen to scribble a pattern all over the flower heads. But the overall shape of the flowers seemed awkward and I realized I wouldn't be able to easily fix it since I'd covered up so much of the marbling with acrylic paint. I set it aside and then the next day, I went for broke and started dribbling paint and water spray on the painting, thinking I'd make it into an abstract piece.

But then I turned it horizontally and realized I could salvage a smaller bunch of flowers and shape it differently. I painted aqua onto the vase, glazed the hydrangea heads with orange acrylic (not a typical hydrangea color, but I've seen it) and then added a bit of collage paper on the middle/upper left of the painting to tie it to the collage paper on the right hand side.

Not bad for a painting I was about to give up on! By turning it, I was able to look at it another way and realize I could still create a vase of hydrangeas---different from my original vision. "Hydrangeas in Vase"; acrylic marbling on paper, 12 x 18".

It's been a year to remember--no doubt about it. COVID and its variants still dominate the news, and uncertainty about returning to the (new) normal has many of us feeling on edge. And yet, because of the efficacy of vaccines (leading to fewer hospitalizations), I'm more optimistic than I was at this time a year ago. We've got a long way to go, but my hope is that we'll get there--if we retain our humanity and work towards relying on and supporting one another. 

As we approach the end of the year, I thought I'd share some things that went well in my (art) world and how grateful I am for the people who made my life better in 2021. My interactions with others were mostly by phone (calls and texts), email, and zoom, but they all contributed to my well-being and my sanity, if I'm being honest.

Some highlights:

• Getting texts or emails from fellow artist friends asking me for my opinion on their painting (problem-solving is something I enjoy!)
• Taking a phone call from a novice artist who'd seen my work locally and asked my advice about how to advance his painting skills (we talked for an hour and he took notes--I think I wore him out and gave him much to think about!).
• A thoughtful phone call from a cousin telling me she'd seen my work on facebook, and then her description of WHAT she liked about my emerging new style of painting.
• Monthly ZOOM critiques with trusted artist friends
• Posting a painting on facebook and getting hundreds of likes/comments (and suggestions for titles!). Art is meant to be seen, so this was a good way to put it out there for an audience each day.
• Rekindling friendships via facebook (and then taking time to chat on the phone with old friends from college days); making new art friends via facebook, and getting to see their work.
• Teaching art workshops via ZOOM: once I embraced this way of teaching, I hit upon a mix of slideshows, demos, and critique to come up with a format that benefits the students, and suits my personality.

I am indebted to all the folks who enriched my life this year--personally and professionally. I couldn't have gotten through the year without so many conversations with friends and family members. Art is a calling (at least for me), and I aim to keep at it!. I leave you with a quote from one of my favorite musicals:

For me, painting is all about the art of the possible--what *COULD* be. It's up to the artist to coax out shapes, colors, form using the materials at hand (paint, collage papers, etc) to produce a visually exciting painting (or at least that's the goal).

I used to begin a painting on a blank, white piece of watercolor paper, but when I switched to acrylic painting and acrylic marbling in 2007, I often found it easier to start with blobs of amorphous color and create a painting that had several layers of color peeking through. This method creates depth, mystery, and a bit of happenstance---I don't know what my finished painting is going to look like, but that's part of the excitement. I feel driven, energized, and compelled to keep going as I respond to what is happening on the paper. Some of my best paintings have arisen out of this process because I just LET GO of the outcome and concentrate on PAINTING.

When I marble papers that have been previously painted (in watercolor or acrylic), I layer new colors and patterns over old color. I often start with the back of a watercolor "test" page (blobs or marks of color are on the paper in a random fashion). Several of my artist friends have given me their old "junk" paintings to marble in exchange for one of my finished paintings. I sometimes wipe off some of the watercolor paint with a sponge before preparing the paper for the marbling tray. My aim is to marble in a way that obscures most of the original image, but still gives me a few little random shapes to deal with when I set about to finish the painting.

I've included two examples of this process--one is a finished landscape by artist Alisha Whitman, which I marbled, cropped, and over-painted, turning it into vase of greenery. The other started as a watercolor "test" paper from artist Leslie Dugas (which I turned into a figure). This is one of my favorite ways to paint on my marbled papers and turn old subject matter into something completely different. Obviously, I don't enter these "collaborative" pieces into juried shows (whose rules insist on the work being done by one artist), but these experimental paintings push me to innovate and improvise--what more could an artist ask for?

How do we know when a painting is finished? It's finished when...

• We decide we're tired of working on it
• There's nothing we want to add, change, or remove
• When our critique group says it's done
• When it sells, and it's out of our hands

But what of the paintings that we put aside because we're not quite SURE what to do with them? My stack of "also-rans" are in a corner of the garage where I can easily access them. But why would I *want* to go back to an old incomplete painting after so many years? Because there's *something* there I haven't resolved. Like little sleeping beauties, these abandoned paintings are waiting to be awakened from their deep slumber. I find that the passing of time, and years of painting experience have given me the wisdom to know HOW to finally finish or revive these paintings! It's exhilarating to take these humble "starts" and reshape them into new, fully realized paintings.

My most successful "do-overs" are those in which very little of the original painting is visible in the final version. For whatever reason, I find it less intimidating to cover up an old painting than to face possibly "ruining" a fresh piece of expensive paper. A painting that's already in the junk pile can't get any worse, right? I've revived hundreds of paintings this way, and each one is a triumph of will----sort of like solving the Saturday New York Times crossword puzzle, but with a paintbrush.

Below is one of my recent makeover paintings---I transformed it from figures to flowers in the course of a day. It's all about knowing what to cover up and what to leave alone. And as always, I try to balance the color, shapes, and composition to create a pleasing finished piece. "Floral Trio #3: Blue Flowers on Orange"; acrylic marbling on paper, 13 x 13".