the artist’s reception

A week ago today was the Artist’s Reception at Capital Health Medical Center in Hopewell.  A few weeks before the big November 6th opening, the 70 local artists involved (each with a guest) gathered  at this beautiful hospital.  We broke up in small groups and took a tour of the facility to look at the artwork.  The hospital is a million square feet, so even a small tour is a big one. The artwork was amazing.

The thought behind it and the cohesive outcome leaves me speechless. As we walk by my work our guide says, “and here is one of our major installations.” Pinch me!  I wished that everyone who had helped me over the past two years had been right beside me at that moment.  I would have had a crowd.

What a journey! Here I am on site when the walls went up.  I took so many measurements over many visits.

There were numerous trips to collect replaced business signs from Future Signs in Trenton. Sometimes I had to borrow trucks that would fit my cargo to bring them to get cut.

Here is an old sign being repurposed for my install.

 Then back to my studio to be sanded.

Each piece then came back inside my studio to be painted and embellished.

And this process just keep repeating itself over and over for the past year.

Here I am on one of my final installation days.  I am exhausted but so happy.

I had the support of so many people when I undertook this huge project. I just want to say thank you to a few. This could take a minute.  I am glad I am not being timed.

Thank you to the visionaries at Capital Health Medical Center, who believe that art can heal and sooth. Through you came Lin Swensson, the art consultant who saw something special in my work.   Together you showed me a 90-foot space filled with possibility and asked me the most wonderful question, “what do you see?”.

Thank you Lin Swensson for showing up monthly at my studio to check in on my progress and offer support. I look forward to knowing you forever and I am so grateful you loved the colors of my art. This was a huge project and you knew I could do it.  Thank you!

Thank you Rich and Kim at Future Signs in Trenton for saving every sign for me for almost two years. I could not have done this project without you. Every time you replaced or took down a sign you thought of me and put it aside in a special place.  Your shop is the neatest workspace I have ever been in. Your location was perfect because I was able to reuse signs from local businesses in the area, right next to where Capital Health had a 120 year history.

Thank you John, Eric, Amy and Mike at Central Art. John and Eric, thank you for sitting patiently with me many times and sharing your knowledge.  It was like taking a crash course in plastics. You are so smart, innovative and skilled and because of that, you have a very busy business and high profile clients. But you always made time to answer my many questions, even when I asked them more than once. Amy, thank you for noticing there was a tool to make my work easier.  Mike, thank you for cutting all those small pieces with such precision.

I have to single you out Eric and say a huge thank you for helping me install this sprawling artwork.  You are an amazing person. You do things thoughtfully and correctly simply because that is the only way you work. Installing this project side by side was an eye opening experience for me. I learned so much from you about the installation process and a whole bunch more. When I was on my own at the end, I kept thinking “what would Eric do?”.  You are meticulous.  Thank you too for always being true to my green business philosophy and for taking the time to find a scrap piece of plastic for me when it would be much easier to just grab a new piece.  I could not have done this installation without you.

Thank you Rick and Bonnie at Cunningham Hardware, my favorite art supply store.  I love how you do business.  You know everyone by name who comes in and answer all their questions as if you are doing the project they are asking about.  For years of help, thank you.

Thank you Fred, Wendy, Anne and Mike for being my caravan to the hospital on install day. I am grateful to each of you and to every blanket and quilt you brought with you to wrap up my artwork safely that morning.

Thank you to my friends who are artists who were there when I needed them. To Heather, my newest and “how did I ever live without you” friend.  You popped in to assure me the colors were looking good, keep saying “repeat, repeat, repeat” just when I needed to hear it,  helped me load huge pieces and take them to the hospital mid way to see if I was on track, brought over homemade energy bars to my studio when I had no sleep scheduled, and you came onsite during installation to help me hang.  What did I ever do without you?  I have no idea.  I just hope I can be as good a friend.

Thank you to Maggy, my dear friend and wood maker. You were always there to cut up an old sign into odd shapes whenever I called. Your studio is amazing and I thank you for sharing it with me. Thank you too for cleaning all those plastic shavings up after I left even though I offered to to it.  I appreciate the times you watched me work and suggested an easier way to go about it.

Thank you Anne, for your painterly wisdom and all your last minute guidance just when I needed it. My stairs look like you can run down them, “glazing” was exactly what I needed to hear and your studio lighting helped me work through the night.  And thank you for checking in on me that very same night to make sure all was okay.  You are a good friend and  I am grateful.

Thank you Cynthia, for being a mentor and muse.  I never did color inside the lines and you never asked me too. I discovered plastic and Oops! paint in your company.  Thank you for all the inspiration.

Thank you Karen for years of encouragement with my art, for not making too much fun of me when I resole my shoes and patch my pants 16 times in an effort to keep them, for telling all your California friends about the colors of my art, for feeding my children when I was locked in my studio, for coming to my studio at night when I could not come to you, for your sweet card and bag of candy bars at the final hour and for helping me install late at night in a huge empty hospital and looking at me like I was a contractor.  For all that and more, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you Sharon, my only sister and closest friend, who flew in during my installation, cooked, cleaned and organized my house, stocked my cabinets with food (the same ones that held pots but now logically hold food).  You realized the magnitude of what I was doing and made sure those closest to me did too. Thank you too for planning magic getaways to faraway places.  You are simply the best sister anyone could have.

Thank you my sweet mother-in-law. You and Dad are always there when I need you.   Thank you for relieving my sister when she returned to her life, feeding my family and doing massive amounts of wash for years. Seriously, mountains of wash. For all your support and time spent folding, I thank you and love you.

Thank you Wyatt and Paige, for letting me work so hard on this project and taking care of yourselves when I was in my studio after school. You  did your homework, helped me with my project whenever I asked you to and were not too harsh when I came home with paint all over my face and hands. When you saw my installation, you looked at me with amazement for a second that I did it.   I loved that reaction, and love you both, so much.

Thank you Michael, my very best friend, biggest supporter, husband and partner in crime.  You know I will do whatever is needed to get something done, even if that means no sleep and no food. Still you made sure I ate and encouraged me to sleep.  Thank you for all the times you brought dinner to my studio, hung out with me when I painted, cut, sanded, glazed or painted yourself, made sure the kids were fed and told me I was amazing when I had paint on my face and needed a shower. You give me wings. I adore you.

Lastly, a big thank you to my mom, who is no longer here.  She told me I could do anything.  I believed her.

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    setting the stage to create

    I have been moving really fast lately. Faster than my normal speed. My mind has been full of creative thoughts and creative deadlines. It is almost as if there is an invisible taskmaster demanding me to create something amazing “right now” and then following up with “I’ll be back in ten hours and it better be done”. But the voice pushing me forward is a gentle voice. It is very calm. It is very positive. And it is my own.

    And I am listening.

    The higher the pressure, the calmer the environment I stage around me. Even when deep down inside I am afraid that I won’t be finished or I worse, that it will not turn out the way it is expected to, my inner voice is so assuring. I mentally say to myself, “that is the straightest line” or “you do that so well” or “great. now lets do this.  almost there.”.  It sounds silly, I know. But it is effective.

    In my studio, I set up an environment that makes me want to create. Before I start, I clean, stock, prepare and entice. I was recently working on a collage that required lots of sewing on paper. I threaded about 16 needles and had them all lined up like racecars ready to take off. I looked at all that colorful thread and could not wait to get started.

    Take a closer look. I wrote on a desk calendar “almost there-such a long journey.”  A few gentle words I had written just before my big installation.

    I had to really think about the process that I am using instinctively to push forward in my art.  Because I need this same process to soothe and calm me outside the studio too.

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      almost there

      This week I am installing my 70-foot Urban Landscape made of all recycled business signs in Capital Health Medical Center Hopewell.  The night before, I was up until 4:30 a.m. making finishing touches and preparing for a year’s worth of work to leave my studio.  What a night!  At around 9 p.m., I cut my finger with a razor blade and my dear friend Wendy, past nurse, drove over to put a butterfly on it.  She said I needed a stitch or two but there was no time in my schedule for the emergency room.  As she was leaving, a bee the size of a small cat flew in and a battle ensued.  Wendy won and I could go on as planned, unstitched.  At around 2 a.m., the police stopped by to see what was going on in my studio.  Lights are never on at that time of night on the farm, the officer said.  We both asked for i.d. His were the flashing red lights through my peep hole. I was very tired at that point with black paint on my lips.   I took a small rest, got up at 6 a.m., and got ready for the five vehicles driven by dear friends to drop off all the pieces.

      Sometimes a picture says it all.  Here is my studio counter two weeks ago. Very civilized.

      Here is my studio counter as I was closing the door to head over to the hospital to install.

      Organized chaos. It still looks the same because I haven’t been there in days to clean it.

      This is me this week. Not home. Not in my studio.  I am happily installing and experiencing new levels of happiness and exhaustion. Sometimes I take a shower, eat and sleep, but not as often as I would like.

      This is me and Eric, who is the president of the plastic fabricating company, Central Art, helping me install.  He is amazing and I could not put a project of this size up without him.  I see in bright colors and shapes; Eric sees in inches and reality.

      It is about 70% up.  I still have lots of detail work to do and more pieces to hang.

      Gotta go; work to do.  Just wanted to share a bit of the process.  I have so many people to thank.  More on that later.  Can’t wait to show the finished piece.

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        altered books

        Whenever I teach an altered book class, some of my students have a hard time when it comes to ripping out the pages. I love the process of deciding which pages tell the story I want to tell. I put the other pages in a file to use later in the process. Turning a special book into art is one of my favorite ways to reuse.

        Below is the first book I ever altered. This book is very much about my mom, but I made it just for me. She died three years ago after a long illness. We reached a point when she was completely bedridden and it was so much easier to use other people’s words than our own, so I read The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd to her each day. We both looked forward to what was going to happen next in our story. Sadness was replaced with anticipation.

        When I alter a book, I only keep about 25 of the original pages and use the rest to sew back into my book either as pockets or as words. I think one of the parts I love best about altering a book and turning it into a personal piece of art is when words that were meant to tell a different story tell my story too.


        When I look back over the time my mom died and since, I would say this altered book is one of the most important things I did to heal. I went away by myself to a wonderful inn in Lancaster, Pennsylvania called The Artist’s Inn. I stayed for three days and sewed and painted in silence. I needed the time alone that went into sewing and tying the edges of each page.

        This book is still not quite complete and I don’t think it ever will be. I still write a note or two to my mother each year and stick it in the pages. I still go back to The Artist’s Inn too, just for a few days of much needed creative silence usually around Mother’s Day.

        This past weekend, I packed my overnight bag, ready to evacuate if the Delaware River swelled in Irene’s wake. There wasn’t much in my bag. I packed a few pieces of clothing, contacts, some makeup and this book.

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          a major installation

          In about a month, I will be installing a 70-foot installation that is made of all acrylic business signs that have been taken down or replaced. I will be installing it (with help!) in a a new hospital filled with original art all from local artists in a 50-mile radius.

          My design is a colorful urban city that becomes more rural as the youngest patients and their parents walk into the pediatric corridor. It has funky buildings, colorful row homes, trees, flowers, a bridge and a delightful little blue bird who can be found everywhere. This is the largest piece of art I have ever created and it has been a part of my life for two years. I swear it sleeps next to me in bed and I stir it into my coffee each morning.

          Here is the model I presented to be considered for this wonderful space.

          This is just a section of the actual installation. I look at it constantly as I create to make sure each piece has the same feeling.

          These are some of the actual pieces in my studio. The model is in the background, always in my line of vision as I create.

          You can see the building, the tree, some of the sun and clouds. I was surprised at how hard it can be to recreate your own work. Because I have had a year to complete this project, I have been able to redo and repaint a piece until I am delighted with it. Sometimes I get it just right the first time. Those are good days and I have lots of them.

          Lin Swensson is the art consultant overseeing this amazing project. She is based in Tennessee and I think I have seen more of her in the past year than I have of my neighbors. Lin stops by my studio monthly to have a cup of coffee with me and see my progress.

          I have learned so much in the past two years that I have been involved in this project. The first year, I was focused on presenting my ideas for a 90-foot entrance space that would engage, distract and delight children and their parents. Then came the actual designing and finally the legal aspects of signing a contract.

          For the past year, I have been just creating it piece by piece in my studio. I gather, cut, sand, prime, paint, repaint, alter, take a break, paint some more, step back for an objective look and then start another piece. Less than five weeks to go.

          Please come along with me for the final stage of my creation.

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            say it now

            Last February, I was visiting a sweet river town along the Delaware River and came across an old fashion barbershop with a sign in the door that said, “closed until further notice”. It really was old fashioned. Take a peek.

            Below the sign was a small bouquet with this note.

            I wondered if Don, who had passed away maybe unexpectedly, had known “S”. Maybe “S” was just a person who passed by everyday with her (guessing it is a her) Dog and Don waved hello.

            I did not know Don, “S” or dog but I was really moved by this note. Moved enough to take a picture and write about it 6 months later. Did Don, who smiled to people as they passed while he worked, know what his smile meant to “S”?

            Did they know each other? I am thinking maybe not, and one day “S” walked by and Don was no longer there.

            I have people and places I pass in my daily travels I would miss if one day they were not there. Like this little roadside farm stand I pass when I leave the plastic fabricator with all my recycled plastics. Their produce is local and fresh, but I love the money can and the trusting person who puts it out each morning.

            There is a faded sign that tells you to go in the jar and make change if you need it. This stand has been running on trust for years. Next time I stop, buy my veggies and leave money in the money can, I will leave a note too. “Thank you for your trust. Glad you are here.”

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              hope notes

              It is mid summer and I have have been really busy in my studio working on my installation for Capital Health Hospital. Seems this week everyone I know or know of is on vacation.  There is no time for a big getaway as I am staring right at the creative finish line.  But there is always time for a small escape and I have had a few.

              This past week, I went to Princeton with my 13-year-old daughter and her friend and we left hope notes in little public places.  I first read about hope notes in my friend Heather’s creative blog, where she posted 41 things she wanted to do in the next year.  I had never heard of hope notes before and the idea of leaving a positive message to be found by someone you don’t know really resonated with me.  I shared this idea with my daughter and her friend and they spent an afternoon writing hope notes. One of their hope notes said “you will get the job you want“.  How insightful!  Here is one of their colorful “read me” hope notes left on a bench.

              The best part about hope notes is that you can be really creative about how you want to make them.  Mine were written on a torn diner placemat.

              Then I left some of them open so that the message could be read.  Here is one I left on a bench in beautiful Palmer Square.

              Sometimes I folded them up to be discovered, like this one hidden in a parking meter.

              We will never know exactly whose heart we touched or what events our positive messages put into action.  But I can tell you, we all left Princeton more hopeful and looking forward to our next hope note adventure.

               

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                waiting for my muse

                Here is a peek into my creative process. Recently, I was asked to come up with an idea for artwork for a boutique in a new hospital I am a doing a major installation in.  That installation is almost 70 feet long and is an urban landscape built from all recycled business signs.  This new commission would be a 3 feet by 4 feet piece for a mother/child boutique on the same floor.  It would be on canvas or paper. I am told to create something that draws people in and if it has a blue bird in the design somewhere, great.

                I let this idea swirl in my head for a few days.  I think about it each day and I read books that inspire me each night before I go to sleep. I start sketching out ideas.  Then I head out and get supplies. I get bits of colored paper, special markers and large sheets of fine white paper that I can sew on.  I find out the exact color of the wall where the artwork will hang and then paint  mat boards that same color so I can present my ideas and realistically show how my art will look in the space.

                 Next stop is the grocery store.  I stock my studio fridge with fresh cherries, blueberries, strawberries and cheeses.  I buy chilled green tea, coffee and Fiji water.  Of course I buy chocolate.

                Now back at my studio, I play Suzanne Vega, light a few candles and start to play with the materials before me.  I bring out sketches I have done.  Then I just start “making”.  And waiting.  Waiting for my inner muse to show herself and take over my hands that are drawing, painting, ripping layering and sewing.

                I trust this process.  I push through self-doubt and second guesses.  If I design something I do not like, I rip it up.  Then I look at all the ripped pieces in front of me and turn them into something new.  I always like these “pieces” best, because they are a special part of how I design. I love to reuse. It is my willingness to push through the parts that I do not like that brings me to the pieces that I love.  My inner muse is present and busy.  I am not really thinking at all; I am just playing.

                This process goes on for a few days…until I create the piece that is perfect for this space. I paint a tree and begin to sew and tie paper, cloth, beads and found objects into the artwork.  It is whimsical but also true to my “repurposed” way of making art. Now I stop “making”.  I feel calm and lighter.  I expected my creative muse to show up.  She did.  She always does.  And I am always grateful. And inspired.

                A few days later I present my ideas for this space to Lin Swensson.  She calls the next day.  Out of the four ideas I put together, the piece I knew was “the one” was unanimously selected.  Now the true fun of creating begins.

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                  reusing picture frames

                  I have been creating art from recycled materials for almost ten years.  I have taken many classes in watercolors, oils, acrylics and other mediums. Although I enjoyed them, I realized I got completely lost in making art when I was reusing materials.  I felt as if these objects found me and I loved looking at something that was being discarded and seeing what it “could be”  instead of what it “was”.  I didn’t realize then that I was embarking on a “green” journey that would gain incredible momentum.

                  So, how does an eco-artist reuse in her own living space? Lets go in my backyard.  On my side fence is a setting of pink wrought iron chairs.  Over them are three frames that a neighbor of a friend of mine was throwing out.  People say to me all the time “I know you can think of something to do with these“. That is what she said and this is what I did.

                  I added a bit of mistake paint in turquoise to the frames.  At the start of each season, I go out with a paint brush and add a little fresh color. I also have found a kindred spirit in an amazing landscaper who helped me hang the hardware and create this setting.  Here is a closer shot taken about a month ago. My has my garden grown!

                  Who would have thought these three trash picked frames could enjoy such a creative afterlife?  I love the idea of framing fresh flowers, which have been painted and framed by artists for centuries.

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                    mornings at my studio

                    Here is how a perfect morning starts out at my studio; a cup of coffee, freshly picked flowers, and my paintbrushes waiting patiently for paint.

                    My studio is in a small cottage dating back to the early 1800′s on 234 acres of preserved farmland.  Farmers work the fields outside my window and a thriving art center is next door.  My studio has no computer or TV.  I do have a microwave, a CD player and a small coffee maker.  I have an oven and a shower too, both of which are used for storage.  My stove has a reused sign on top of it converting it to a work counter and the closest it gets to heat is a small candle burning on a nearby table.

                    Here is that nearby candle on top of a piece of scrap Plexiglas where I keep words and pictures that inspire me.  The table it is on converts from a work station, reading cubby and bistro table for one to an elaborately set dinner table for six if needed.  Usually it is a work and inspiration station.

                    My studio is where I go to create and design but it is also where I go just to think about creating and designing.

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