Monday, January 21, 2019

Wisdom Mask - From Sketch to Linocut

It's funny how setting limits can increase creativity. As an art instructor, I often go in new directions because of project ideas I set for my students. On February 16th and 17th, I am teaching a workshop called Magical Masks: Linocut Weekend Workshop (you can register HERE) inspired by the current special exhibit "Congo Masks" at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, through February 24th. As I worked on my own linocut mask example to show students, I had ideas for many masks. I may end up making a mask series!

One practice I've been incorporating in recent years is to create a piece of art I can put on my studio wall to represent the state of mind or qualities I want to embody. I decided to use the idea of creating a mask to help me with this.

Let me walk you through my process...

I started off by visiting the Congo Mask exhibit at the VMFA. It was a beautiful exhibit. All of the following masks are from different regions and cultures within the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Common materials were wood, pigment, and raffia. The information related was transcribed or paraphrased from the placards in the exhibit.

Anthropo-Zoomorphic Ndunga Face Mask
First quarter of the 20th century
Sundi Culture

I loved the simplicity and bold shapes of this mask. And the ears!

Ndunga Face Mask and Replica Costume (Mamboma)
First quarter of the 20th century
Woyo culture

What a fantastic mask and costume! It is speculated that it may represent a member of the secret ndunga society, which sought to restore justice and to uphold social order and ancestral law within their communities. It was also speculated that the mask may have been performed to ward off disease, and that the painted dots represented smallpox.

Large Face Mask (Pumbu)
Second quarter of the 20th century
Eastern Pende culture

According to the placard, this pumbu mask was performed following times of crisis, disease, and famine in the community to help restore order and good will. What struck me about this mask was its bold features, the raffia beard (raffia was a very common material in many of the masks), and intricately carved and whitened patterns. 

Round Striated Forehead Mask
First quarter of the 20th century
Luba culture

This mask may have represented beings relating to the Luba culture's origin myths, as well as the moon and spirit realm. The crest at the rear was thought to serve as an antenna for detecting evil. Something about this mask really reminded me of a Dr. Suess character! I think it is the eyes.

Oops, I didn't take down the info for these masks. But I love how sculptural they are. They look like crescent moons to me.

Horned Face Mask (Kayamba)
First quarter of the 20th century
Lega culture

Whenever I'm doing visual research, I like to not only take photographs, but sketch from life. I believe this imbues my hands and spirit with the "feeling" of my subject. Also, when I'm drawing from life I get a better understanding of what it takes to create my own version, and I'm able to move around and see the object from different angles in case I don't really understand what I'm seeing. With photographs, the image is already flattened and it's hard to "zoom in" on a detail if you didn't take the right photo. It's also hard to tell things like the actual color or material of an object. I only drew a couple of masks, but it gave me a better sense of how dimensional and well-balanced these masks are, even the ones that appear simple.

Pencil on cold press watercolor paper. Over the summer I made a small sketchbook that is lightweight and easy to fold the covers back, which I like to use for sketching from life. 

Later in the week, I began sketching ideas for my own mask. I looked through my notes and photos, thinking about such elements as the visual look of the masks - I was personally drawn to masks with simplified shapes and highly stylized features; the performance aspect of masks - they are worn with costumes and performed with dance and singing for various purposes such as spiritual ceremonies and rites of manhood; the colors used (mostly red, black, and white pigments); and the natural materials that were specific to the different regions. I also loved how dimensional the masks were, and wanted my linocut to look like a real object incorporating some shadows. I can't say I'm an expert on Congo masks, but I tried to use what I learned as a guide for thinking about the elements of a mask.

I began doodling and writing a list of some of the qualities and gifts I want to embody and learn from this year. I thought about what the different features of the face could symbolize: eyes for vision and clarity. Mouth for speaking truth. I had a couple of dreams about snakes recently, so I drew one on the page.

Then I got totally overwhelmed! I realized I needed to take a lesson from my favorite Congo masks and SIMPLIFY! And also, to switch mediums.


Instead of trying to cram all the elements I'd wanted into one mask, I used one or two to give a focus to each mask. Sometimes when I'm feeling stuck or afraid to make a move, I switch mediums to help me. There's something so final about a drawing, but collage allows for re-arranging shapes easily before gluing them down. I cut some shapes out of painted papers: leaves, a shell, a snake, a tree trunk. I played with them and arranged some pleasing combinations. I decided to let go of trying to mentally direct the idea of each mask, and instead let shapes and colors guide me to what felt right. I added watercolor. At first, stylizing the human face was harder than I thought. I'm more comfortable drawing animals, so it made me respect the vision and craftsmanship that went into creating the Congo masks. After awhile I loosened up and began to have more fun with it.

I settled upon the mask at the right (above) for my first carving! 


I sketched ideas for backgrounds to add environments and mood to the masks. Then I was ready to start my linocut! I begin as I always do, measuring and cutting my linoleum to size with a razor blade. Then I applied a watered-down india ink wash to the surface. I traced my mask from my sketchbook onto tracing paper, then transferred it to the linoleum plate with white Saral brand transfer paper. I knew from the blue watercolor sketch above that I wanted to keep the stars and leaves of the background very simple, so I started carving there. 

But I kept avoiding working on the actual face. I'll tell you the truth, I'm often scared before I dive into a piece of artwork - afraid to make decisions for fear I'll mess it up. Afraid to invest so much time into something that might not look the way I hoped. Deciding about how to carve the face was hard because I started off with a full-color watercolor/collage sketch, and linocut is a totally different medium! In linocut, you either cut or you don't cut. There is no tone. Also, you can plan for colors in a linocut, but you have to think ahead a bit. I've used a few different methods to add specific areas of color in linocut. You can carve multiple plates, each a different color, to print in layers. You can leave blank space to hand-paint later in watercolor. There's also chine-collĂ©, which involves adding colored papers during the printing process.


Anyway, I forged ahead blindly without deciding how I would add color to my linocut until I had already carved the background (generally not recommended!) I thought about carving two plates, but then settled on carving just one plate and hand-coloring. There are some printmakers who plan exactly what their cut will look like ahead of time. I almost never do that, because for me the most fun part of making a linocut is carving and uncovering what it's going to look like. I often make decisions I regret, and sometimes I can carefully fix them (see my post on Linocut Surgery), but sometimes I just have to let it be. Usually it's good enough for me! Anyway, I realized I couldn't stall any longer and had to make a move. So I began carving the top section of the forehead and the shell!

One thing that helps me when I'm worried about how to go about a piece of art, is to remember that it doesn't just come from myself. I believe art comes from another realm and I need to be sensitive about accessing that other world and allowing ideas to come into physical existence. My dad has talked to me about this before, and a few years ago I heard about it in Elizabeth Gilbert's "Big Magic." So if I'm afraid, I think, "What wants to come into existence?" rather than "What do want this to be?" 

Moving on to the lower part of the face, I sketched out fine lines in white colored pencil. I like working in pencil because I can change it around and erase. Another method is using white watercolor pencil and wiping away unwanted elements with a damp tissue or cloth. Notice on the photo below that I tried out a checker pattern on the snake/nose but later ended up removing it.

I've never carved such fine parallel symmetrical lines like this before. I would not recommend this for a beginner! Luckily, I didn't mess it up.

And here is the finished linocut! I'm quite pleased with it. Well, it's not over because I haven't printed it or added watercolor. As you can see, areas in the original watercolor sketch that had color were carved away. These areas will not print, so I can paint into them later.

I call this piece, "Wisdom Mask." For me, the shell represents wisdom - both spiritual wisdom and cultivating my mental faculty to think and make decisions without wasting so much energy on fear and anxiety. The snake/nose represents grounding down my energies into the earth. The full cheeks and gently smiling mouth are a reminder of a child's innocence and joy.

I loved how dimensional this piece looked when carved. Maybe one day I will carve real masks out of wood.


And there you have it! I will post again once I print this mask.

If you live near the Richmond, VA area and are interested in taking my workshop, the information and registration link is below. Though I will say that carving this mask took me awhile, so for this workshop we'll focus on carving a mask without the background, and your design should be considerably simpler to carve, especially if you're a beginner. I've been doing this for many years, so I challenged myself a bit with this cut and don't expect you to do the same!

Magical Masks: Linocut Weekend Workshop NEW! [54]

Sat & Sun, Feb 16 &17, 10 am–4 pm (2 sessions) | Studio School, 1st floor Aijung Kim
Masks can simplify or exaggerate a human character. They can represent animal, magical, or non-human qualities that the wearer wishes to embody. The class will tour the Congo Masks exhibition in the VMFA galleries to explore the materials, aesthetics, and meanings of Central African masks. The group will then return to the printmaking studio to design their own mask. The instructor will demonstrate how to design, transfer, carve, ink, and print a linoleum cut inspired by the mask theme.
Register HERE.

Monday, September 24, 2018

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!


Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Benevolence

Note: From September 4th - 22nd I have been in residence at the Rensing Center, a wonderful place in rural Pickens, South Carolina. This is a duplicate of the blog post I wrote for the Rensing Center blog today. To read and see more from other creatives who have been in residence at the Rensing Center or to find out what a creative retreat can feel like (just reading about it is inspiring!), visit Rensing's blog here. Also, I mention the other artist residency, ArtLab, that I attended in June in this post, and I do plan on writing a post about it soon. 

The view from my patio at the Rensing Apartment.

Today is my last full day at the Rensing Center. I leave tomorrow morning for Richmond, Virginia - an eight-hour drive to the city for a slow driver like me. For the last few days, I've been moving through the hours slowly, my mind already in the future, my heart trying to let go of this place so I can be ready to move on. My heart is sad.

Within a few hours of arriving at Rensing in early September, I knew this was a good and right place for me. I felt comfortable enough to allow myself to wander through the first week – taking naps, playing the piano in the library, painting the shed for my work-study hours, and working intermittently, while my energy started to gather. I napped a lot throughout the first week and a half, and realized that my body and spirit needed the rest after a busy summer. Ellen was supportive of this, encouraging me to feel less fretful about my lack of productivity.

Me, after I painted the shed! Photograph courtesy of Hannah Lee Jones.

Even though my ego wanted me to produce, I knew that something deeper was forming within me. Originally for this residency, I meant to work on carving linocuts to accompany some fairy tales and fables I had written over the past several years. I had planned to edit and polish the writing before I arrived so I could work on the artwork while I was here. But after taking a couple of writing classes earlier in the year, I realized that my writing still needs a lot of work and practice. I was not going to polish the stories before coming to Rensing.

Gathered gifts.

Instead, I came to this nearly three-week residency with a number of projects in mind: I wanted to finish the lengthy zine I'd started in June at my previous and first-ever artist residency, called ArtLab, at Mountain Lake Biological Station, take an online class to work on a picture book manuscript, start some short comics, and spend a little time on certain aspects of my art business – prepping digital files, photographing and listing products in my online shop, and carving some linocuts to sell at upcoming craft shows. And perhaps create a zine about Rensing as well. I was overwhelmed before I arrived at the residency.

Adorable young goats at Chad and Jon's farm.

Affectionate mamas.

I ended up working on a little bit of everything, except for making comics and carving linocuts. In fact, I mostly wrote during this residency, something I felt a bit self-conscious about because I have much less experience with words than with images. I outlined and wrote a draft of my experiences at my previous ArtLab residency, worked on a picture book manuscript, and took notes on daily happenings at Rensing. I learned what it feels like to write everyday, to write as a practice. And without planning to, I wrote poems in my notebook. Poems about what I saw and felt and dreamt: the goats, the wild persimmons, the piano, the dead rabbit that Bob the cat left for me in the bathroom on my first night here, the strangely similar dreams Hannah and I shared on the same night.

Some unfinished spreads from my forthcoming Rensing zine. 

As I realized that the writing and illustrations for my ArtLab zine required more time than the Rensing residency would allow, I switched gears and focused on making a zine about Rensing instead - a zine of the moment, one that I could finish in time for the Richmond Zine Fest where I am tabling next weekend. I told myself I'd keep it simple. Use the words I had already begun to write. So I did. It's going more slowly than I had hoped, as everything does, but I've decided I will finish it by next week no matter what, even if that means leaving out a few pages I had previously planned. I want this zine to be spontaneous and impressionistic. And I want it to be finished. One thing the two residencies from this year have taught me: in the ebb and flow of the creative life, it's best to catch the comet and not let go until it burns out. I work by obsession, and if I don't have proper time to indulge in the obsession, it's hard to put myself back into the mindset I had before. With my horrible memory, past experiences turn into a milky haze of pure feeling, with no detail or knowledge of where things begin or end. That's why the zines are so important to me. They help me to capture a place on the page. They anchor me to the ephemeral and prompt me to look deeper. 

Hannah and her horse-love, Rocky, from down the road.

Rocky eats an apple while I laugh.

During these final days at Rensing, I find myself counting out each of the last things I'll do here: this is the last time I'll visit the horse down the road, the last time I'll wash this cutting board and oil it, the last time I'll scrub the cast iron skillet. I can't let myself forget to bring home the sheet music from my high school piano lessons that my dad mailed to me from Rochester, NY. I don't have a piano in Richmond. Tonight will probably be the last time I play on it and sing, sing as loud as I want with no one hearing me. I need to make sure I feed the goats persimmons one last time before I leave.

From left to right: Ellen, Hannah, Ron, and Evelyn. 
Ron made the delicious Meyer Lemon Meringue pie they're all eating!

I will miss this place and I will miss the people: Evelyn, with her pure white hair and clear voice, coming by on her golf cart to feed Bob, Ellen with her ruler-straight posture, warm eyes, and wise words, Hannah Lee Jones, my fellow resident, with her eloquent poetry, diligent work ethic, and healing conversations, who has been a kindred spirit through our time here and will be lucky enough to stay through October to watch the foliage brighten. Neighbors Ron, Jon, Chad, Eric, and everyone else who stopped by the property to talk or work or share dinner with us. The goats, the cows, the swallowtails on the patio, Bob the cat. I have deeply felt the role of community during my stay here: why it's good and necessary to share knowledge, resources, talents, friendship.

Full Moon night.

Though I have a few things to show from my stay here, and more to come when I finish my zine, what I mostly benefited from here was the magic, the poetry of this place. Not magic in a vacuum apart from worldly problems and concerns. But magic that reminds you there is more than what we can see in the physical world. There is waiting and right timing, connection, acceptance, the ebb and flow of energies, coincidence. And benevolence: that's what true artists impart to each other. The benevolence of respecting and giving (to ourselves and to each other) the mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual space we each need to function as creative individuals, as humans.

I know I needn't feel so sad. This place feels like home to me, and home is a place that will always welcome you back.

Aijung Kim, resident artist in September 2016


Bob, the best company to have while you're working.

You can purchase the zine I created of my experience at Rensing HERE

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Old Year Reflections


Last year was a funny kind of year for me, a good year in many ways but different than I had envisioned it. It was the first year in my life I achieved my dream of making a living by selling my art and teaching. It will take me a little longer to be more comfortable financially, but I count myself pretty lucky for making it through the year without having to get another part-time job, which I did consider several times (I even applied for a job but didn't get it - thank goodness!) Not that there is anything wrong with having a part-time job, but as the year progressed I realized that I can now make more money doing what truly interests me than working other jobs. This has never been true for me before in my life, so I am very happy about that!

Looking back, I see 2015 as a year of "sinking in." The year started off very slowly for me. I went into heavy hibernation mode in the beginning of the year. I ate a lot of grits with cheese and watched a lot of movies. The winter was harsh in Richmond and throughout the United States. I wanted to be more productive with my art, but I felt so unmotivated. I felt guilty and frustrated because now that I had more time than ever to work on my art, I wasn't taking advantage of it in the way I thought I should. Periodically I took art classes in handlettering, mixed-media, screenprinting, and ceramics to help me get into the flow of making stuff again. While I enjoyed the classes, doing so many different things made me feel a bit disjointed. I never had a steady flow of creativity, it was always in fits and starts.

Sgraffito bowls I made in my ceramics class.

Through the year I thought about children's book illustration, listened to Let's Get Busy podcasts (now called All the Wonders) for inspiration, and tried to define my style by doing many experiments but didn't hit on a "solution." In October I attended my regional Society of Children's Books Writers and Illustrators conference. After receiving a portfolio critique from a creative director, I was shaken up. I wanted him to tell me I was ready to illustrate children's books, even though the hodge-podge of illustration in my portfolio said otherwise. Looking back, he gave me some helpful suggestions that I will definitely use, but I decided I will not attend another conference or get a professional critique until I have done some major work on my visual storytelling abilities. I need to put the emphasis on learning and practice rather than results and praise. I will be ready when I am ready. Through the conference, I met and joined a small critique group with a couple of illustrators who live in my area, so now I have a great support system to keep me motivated!


In my fine art world, while I had periods of intense art productivity, I mostly floated through the year. 2014 was intense with starting my notecard wholesale business, but in 2015 I just didn't have the energy to push myself. I got sick four times during the year, which is unusual for me. My body kept sending me the message that it didn't want to be pushed hard at all, in fact it wanted to be nurtured. My hands and body were stiff all the time and I didn't know why. I worried that I was getting some kind of precursor to arthritis in my hands. My body gets a little more cranky in the winter, but usually when warm weather hits I am fine. I tried to do more yoga, but the stiffness persisted even through the warm months. Then, for my birthday in June, my aunt sent me the best gift ever: a set of Zumba dance fitness dvds.

And so I discovered DANCE. I'm not kidding when I say that it changed my life. 
As this was my first year being a full-time artist, at first I didn't notice how little I was moving around. I have never felt very graceful or coordinated (and I'm extremely shy about dancing in public), but doing Zumba makes me laugh, shake, and feel alive. It's a great reprieve from sitting all day working on art, and I come back from dancing feeling happy and ready to work again. It made me appreciate movement and the many ways the body can express itself. With the addition of drinking fresh ginger tea (which has lots of antioxidants and health benefits), my body felt so much better. I also started bicycling again.

One thing I did do a lot of last year was travel. 


In May I went to New York City to walk the National Stationery Show with my parents and aunt (who own a fabulous gift shop in Rochester, NY called Archimage). As I wrote about in previous posts, starting in 2014 I worked to wholesale my notecards to shops around the country. While I had some success with it, I was very small-potatoes. It was exciting but ultimately exhausting contacting store owners and trying to get sales, to the point that I felt burnt out and wasn't sure if I wanted to run my card business anymore. I didn't know whether I should try to grow or scale back, and it weighed heavily on my mind for many months. My family suggested that I walk the Stationery Show with them to see what the card industry is all about. 

That's my dad, mom, and aunt in the far left.

After walking the show, I observed that while there were some excellent stand-out booths and the cards were of great quality, many looked very similar to me. The art on my cards was much more unique in comparison to most of what I saw, which surprised me. I decided that I don't want to do what everyone else is doing just to make more sales. I want to do what I enjoy and what works for me. I am happy being small-time and niche, and I don't want to get too big because it will take over everything else that I enjoy doing. So it turned out that I am doing just fine after all!

I traveled for a lot of craft shows/vacations last year, including Buffalo and Rochester, NY; Trenton, NJ; Philadelphia, PA; Louisville, KY; and Raleigh, NC; as well as doing a lot of shows locally in Richmond. A few of those shows really sucked for me in terms of sales, which caused me to re-think how many out-of-state shows I want to do in the future. But I beat my all-time sales record three times last year! And the funny thing is that I only made four new prints to sell.


Visiting the glorious mosaics of Isaiah Zagar at Magic Gardens in Philadelphia.

I was able to visit my family in Rochester, NY twice. I usually only visit my family around Christmas. They own a gift store, so holidays are exhausting for them and I am also burnt out from holiday sales. It was wonderful to visit them in August when things are less stressful for everyone and we had more time to hang out.

At beautiful Watkins Glen in upstate NY with my family.

The merry-go-round at Charlotte Beach. Such amazingly-painted creatures!

In late October I traveled to Mexico City to visit my best friend and witness Dia de los Muertos, a holiday that celebrates and honors family and friends who have passed away. It was an awesome trip, and I plan to make a zine about it. I saw so much and it gave me perspective on another culture and myself in unique ways that I am grateful for.



Just one of the many ofrendas, or altars, created by Mexican citizens to honor their deceased loved ones.

In spite of not doing a ton of artwork, I did manage to do a few commissions and donations for others:



I, along with several other local artists,  painted bicycle frames to raise money for the Richmond Cycling Corps and Art 180. It was fun working on a 3-dimensional object. The words on the bike are a poem I wrote called "Ode to Oregon Hill," and they wrap around the bike on both sides.

I created a beer label for Hardywood Brewery. The ale was created and brewed by Justin Anderson. I enjoyed collaborating with Justin and graphic designer DeeDee Hamad to create label imagery that fit the taste and feel of the ale.

A painting I created for a calendar for my parents store, Archimage. Every year they give out a free calendar to their customers and this is the first year they had one custom-designed! I chose the theme of monkeys because 2016 is the Year of the Monkey in the Chinese calendar year. I worked really hard on the painting -going to the zoo and watching videos to draw monkeys, and doing color tests and sketches before even starting the final. 

And I did manage to make a new zine!

So to wrap it all up, when I say that 2015 was all about "sinking in," this is what I mean:
- resting and rejuvenating from the previous year
- learning how to balance myself emotionally and physically as a full-time artist
- learning what my working rhythms are and how to time things
- analyzing my previous accomplishments and building on that infrastructure
- learning how to be happy just doing "enough"

My anxiety level dropped from the previous year and I was able to feel hopeful for myself and not quite as worried as usual (though my normal worried is generally extreme). I let go of many projects I had planned and I made very little new artwork, yet I was still able to support myself. The only downside is that now my head is so crammed full of ideas from last year that I am going crazy wanting to express myself!

I can't say for sure what 2016 will bring, but I know that my energy is different than it was this same time last year. I feel more confident about living as a working artist. I am making a conscious decision not to travel as much this year so I can root myself in creating new work and have a less disruptive schedule. But I will leave a little room for adventures. I mostly want to get the ideas out of my head and into the real world through zines, prints, children's illustration, writing, and whatever comes up. I plan to launch myself into my artwork and follow my bliss, so the word for this year is: EXCITEMENT!

Dear Readers, can you sum up the theme of your last year in a word or two, or a phrase? What do you think 2016 will mean for you?