Happy Year of the Pig! Watercolor and Papercut Process

This is the fourth calendar I've designed for my family's gift store, Archimage, in Rochester, NY. Every Christmas holiday, they hand out these calendars when people make a purchase. Most of the calendars have followed a Chinese Zodiac theme, and starting February 5th, 2019 it's the Year of the Earth Pig! People born under the year of the Pig tend to be logical, kind, and appreciate the finer things in life. Pigs are symbols of wealth, so let's hope that extends to many of us in 2019! Though they say your fortune depends on what animal sign you're born under.

Let me walk you through my process for creating the finished piece:

I researched the internet for photos and facts on farm pigs. I even watched videos. Pigs are cool creatures. They have an excellent sense of hearing and smell. They use their snouts to dig up roots and sniff out truffles, a culinary fungus. Groups of sows and their young live together in communal groups called sounders. Sows are great moms!

I also kept stumbling upon the cruel fact that pigs are tested on a lot in the medical industry and in military trauma-training. Also, in factory farms, pregnant sows are kept in tiny cages where they don't even have room to move around. I was aware of some of this already, but being reminded again made me feel very sad.

I wanted to create a visual for pigs that depicted a sense of hopefulness and optimism for the new year - I thought about the phrase "when pigs fly," but it was hard to escape the fact that most farmyard pigs are not destined to a life of freedom - though if you want to read about a pig who lived a wonderful life, I highly recommend "The Good Good Pig" by Sy Montgomery.

After talking about all this to my dad, he suggested I depict a wild pig instead. I was already leaning toward this idea but felt affirmed by his suggestion. Domestic pigs are the descendants of wild boars. I was delighted by the beautiful coat patterns of boar piglets. Sows in general are amazing mothers! They nurse so many piglets at once, often flopping on the ground to give easy access to their teats. I was especially struck by the maternal and protective nature of these creatures, so my idea for the image formed around a mother sow and her piglets.

I then created thumbnail images of different compositions.

I sketched my final image on tracing paper, but cut out some of the piglets and moved them around to play with the composition. When I was satisfied, I taped the pieces down. I had a million tabs up on my browser of various boars and piglet configurations. I don't like to copy other people's photographs, so I was determined to create my own grouping that was different than what I had seen. Honestly, this was kind of hard to do since I'd never seen these animals in person.

I knew I wanted to work in watercolor, but watercolor can be so unforgiving! I decided to combine watercolor and papercut so I'd have room to move elements around and swap out things that didn't work.

I began with a watercolor background on a 140 lb. watercolor pad. I wanted to recreate a Bavarian forest scene, in particular the beech forests that had such lovely golden leaves in fall. I wanted an earth-colored ground that would nicely contrast the golden leaves and green-tinted trunks. However, I didn't do any color tests or think ahead much further than that, and I found that the ground matched the color of the piglets too closely! I ended up darkening the ground, but had to be careful of not making it too dark or the mother boar would disappear in the background!

Then, using a medium-thickness drawing paper, I painted the hues of the mother boar, piglets, and golden beech leaves. I painted the tree trunks on a thicker printmaking paper because I wanted more dimension in the trunks.

When dry, I flipped the papers over and transferred the drawings by placing the tracing paper drawing on top and going over the lines to transfer the graphite.

I transferred the piglets the wrong way the first time - I forgot I had to transfer the reverse image onto the back of the paper for it to be the correct direction on the colored side! But it allowed me to test out the coloring of the piglet fur. I tried using gouache, watercolor, and pen at first, but didn't like the
contrast. I settled on colored pencil.

Piglet tests.

I used a blade to cut out the silhouettes of the animals and a few interior lines, but I didn't want to get too fussy. I wanted preserve the integrity of the shapes as a whole.

I ended up adjusting the composition slightly, but was able to place my tracing paper composition over the image to check if I was getting too off-track.

This is the way my desk looks when I'm really working, complete with snot rag and piles of mess. It only stays clean for but so long.

If I had a better camera, next time I would photograph the papercut art instead of scanning it to retain more of the nice shadows and dimensional aspect of this form of art.

This was a lot of fun to make, and I'm excited to keep working in watercolor and papercut! Wishing you all a Happy Chinese New Year!

Some Art From the Time In-Between!

Hi Friends,

Wow, I can't believe it's been over two years since I've posted here! At the moment, I tend to post art stuff on my Instagram page, but technology apps tend to morph and lose popularity so fast, and I have been missing my blog! Plus, the blog is always here for the technologically-challenged.

Well. A lot has transpired since my last blog post. But, I'll save that for future posts. Instead, I'll show you some art I've made in that time in-between, during 2016 and 2017.

A few monotypes and collages I created in 2016.

A painted "quilt" collage I made in my sketchbook.

I recreated a woodcut I hadn't been totally satisfied with and made it into a linocut instead. For some of the prints, I hand-colored them with watercolor and colored pencil.

I took an amazing online class with Portland, OR artist Alison O'Donoghue called "Bottles, Bananas, and Beyond," available on the website www.carlasonheim.com. I adored this class and it totally inspired me. The piece above is called "Coexistence." It was created using acrylic paints.

Then I took a class with Alison called "Birds on Birds," similar to the previous class I took. Again, fun times, though I think I enjoyed the "Bottles, Bananas" class a little better because of the freedom of subject matter. This acrylic painting is called "Duet."

Okay, that's all for now. I am on a creative tear at the moment, so I'll keep sharing and hopefully there won't be as much radio silence on this blog from now on!

It's Back...

...finally. It seemed like it would never come. I felt adrift, frustrated, empty. And scared. What if I'd lost it for good?

I hadn't used the word "artist's block" to describe my situation in many years. Because I don't know if I believe in artist's block. In her audio narrative "The Creative Fire," Clarissa Pinkola Estés describes this period of infertility as a metaphorical death, one that is necessary for the creative soul. She describes the cycle of our creative nature as a:

"...quickening, birth, a rising of energy to a zenith, and the beginning of entropy and decline... and then again a death, and then another incubation." 

I love the way she speaks of the creative process as being part of our nature, and how we need to get out of our own way to give this process the respect it needs.

Throughout my life, I noticed the pattern of birth and decay repeating over and over again. I went to art college in New York City, and returned home to Rochester for the summers. I passed the time lazily and lamented to my parents that I wasn't making any art. They always told me, "You need to rest."

My parents' sage advice sunk into me all through my growing years, but as an adult I have had to learn to manage my own cycles - and the drive to produce can be intense. "I don't have time to rest. I should be doing something." Last year I focused much of my energy on making a living through my art. I spent more of my creative energy strategizing ways to sell my art, as opposed to making it. This was necessary for me to do, yet it was exhausting.

I have a special relationship with my art. To me, it's a communion with the side of myself that understands truth, beauty, and what makes life meaningful. It's the part of myself that I trust most and feel safest with. This is probably the reason why I don't feel the need to socialize or hang out with friends all the time. To me, art is my friend, my guide. So when I feel like I've lost my connection with it, it's like I'm losing one of the most important relationships I have.

We endured a harsh winter. For several months after Christmas, my body and mind felt sluggish. I was in hibernation mode. I let myself rest through most of January and February. I dabbled and experimented with a few different mediums. At times I wanted to push myself harder, but knew I shouldn't. I created a new sketchbook to help me get back into the habit of creating again. Part of me wanted to be like all those successful artists who proclaim that they draw everyday.

But I don't draw everyday. And you know what? I don't want to. I think the advice to draw or do something everyday can be very helpful and perhaps necessary to some people. And I'm sure if I did it I would improve my skills. But I don't think it's necessary for everyone, or at least not at all times or stages of growth. There, I've said it. Sacrilege. 

I don't think that that the purpose of art is to constantly be producing. I think that some of it must come from a deeper drive. Several years ago I listened to an interview with author Zadie Smith. She said about writing: "I think you need to feel an urgency about the act, otherwise when you read it you feel no urgency either. So I don't write unless I really feel I need to..." I love that. There must be a reason that you bring something new into creation. If I created all the time just for the sake of feeling like I'm prolific or valid as an artist, I think there's something damaging in that. Yet I also want to keep the creative channel open and do things for fun. There has to be a balance.

In February I took a mixed-media collage class to try to get the energy flowing again. And I produced some things that I liked. But I didn't feel the excitement that comes with that deeper urgency.

As the months passed, I was busy with teaching and doing my bookkeeping and taxes, and then Spring came and I thought my creative energy would return. I did a few new things, had lots of ideas floating around in my head, but nothing seemed to catch or compel me. 

"What is wrong with me? I've lost it. I've just lost it."

This past week, I complained to family and friends about my "artist's block." And through those anxiety-filled conversations, a truth came out. At first, I needed a long rest. And perhaps the timing just wasn't right. But wrapped up in that was a sneaky little fear.

Last year at my printmaking exhibition at Rivermont Studio, I got to see everything up on the wall at once. While I was proud of what I'd done, seeing it all together like that firmed my resolve to go in a new direction. I wanted to tell more stories with my art, to be more personal. I wanted to include more human figures, to incorporate the written word. I wanted to explore complex compositions, to create larger, more dynamic works. I wanted to expand my color palette, to understand the very nature of color interactions and use them successfully in my work.

Let's just say it was a tall order. And one that crept into my psyche, whispering "Everything has to be meaningful. You can't do anything like you've done before. It has to be so much better. And people have to really like it." 

I create art for all kinds of reasons. It's a necessary expression of my thoughts, heart, and soul. It's a meditation for me, a way to center and calm myself. At times it becomes a habit. And really, I just enjoy it. While primarily I aim to please myself, I'm always aware that I'm creating for an audience, especially since I became more serious about making my living from the sale of my art. So stacked on top of the goal to create utterly breathtaking and meaningful work was the worry of having to sell it successfully, which can warp things awfully if you let it get to your head.

I knew I had to get back into making art again, or find another job.

Recently, I called up my mom and she told me "Do the easiest thing." I decided to take her advice. The easiest thing was to finish up some of the things I started, and to expand upon works that I'd already created. I also referred to some advice in Samantha Bennett's book, "Get it Done." She recommends that when procrastination paralyzes you, aim to get a C rather than an A. 

And so I'm grading myself with a C. Or maybe a B. But definitely not an A. And it feels good. Maybe it's okay to create stuff just because I think it's pretty and because I enjoy it. Maybe that super-amazing stuff will come in time if I let it percolate a little longer. 

And so, it's coming back. An inkling of that urgency to create. That fresh, exciting Springtime of Creativity. It's a gentle energy, not overpowering, but I know it will gather strength as I keep up the practice of creating again. 

It never left me, after all.