For the first time in about 6 years, I cracked open the oil paints and made a couple of eensy weensy little 'fine art' paintings (as opposed to the illustration work I've been doing the last few years). The paintings will be in this anonymous art show for North Vancouver Arts Council. Check it out, all paintings are selling off the wall for $100 a piece and half of the proceeds goes to funding really worthwhile community arts projects.
This week we have been enjoying some fabulous felty fun with these screenprinted animals which we picked up at Collage Collage. They were drawn by artist Sarah Holtom who also runs workshops there.
I'd love to make some of these myself!
It's been a while. I've had a lovely little Clothkits parcel stashed away for a while now. First the season was wrong, then my belly swelled. Finally it's time had come, and the scrunchy tissue was removed, the sewing machine unhusked and zim zum, voila, a skirt. I was especially looking forward to this one as the design is by the tremendous Rob Ryan, whose quirky and poetic paper cuts are just what you would wish for on a skirt. It wasn't yet open when I was living in East London, but when I finally get to go back (can't face it with a babe and preschooler in tow right now!) I'll definitely be making a visit to his shop Ryantown in Spitalfields.
Enough preamble, here's the item in question...
With Dadda Boo in the UK on a business trip, it was a one-woman (at least for now...) photo shoot in the mirror. Hmmm, see the issue there? The text. Yes, the text... ho hum. The cut out lettering on the bell says 'This bell will ring when you take me in your arms and hold me'. What more can one ask for than a romantic skirt?!
Ah yes, as you can see, I wasn't alone for very long.
On the back the text reads 'Every bird is my brother and sister'. Boo loves this.
And soon I was relegated to the background.
I have great respect for someone who can wield a scalpel with such impressive results, precision never having been my forte.
Staying with cut-outs, today we picked up this book from the library:
Nicky McClure is a self taught cut-out artist who uses black paper to create images, usually with a family/home life theme. Her book Mama, is it summer yet? was just right for us today, when we are hanging on for the pacific northwest summer to finally emerge. The young boy asks if it is summer way too early and his mother plants seeds with him and draws his attention to things changing in the natural world around them, until the strawberries are in fruit and summer is finally here.
Finally, if paper cutting rings your bell, you must check out the work of Peter Callesen, who can do things with a scalpel and a piece of A4 white paper than I can only marvel at.
Now where did I put those cack-handed scissors?
With my recent unreliable levels of energy, I wasn't sure I was going to make a homemade advent calendar this year (see last year's here), but here it is after all...
I decided to once again do an 'advent activities' calendar, so each little stocking contains a small card with an activity written on it for that day. I've tried to not get carried away and to keep it realistic, just hope I've managed it. I found this beautiful origami paper at the local art store, then just folded each sheet in half and cut a stocking shape, glueing it around the edges to make a pocket into which the activity card could be inserted. Then hole punched each side of the top and threaded a ribbon through the lot before hanging it on the wall.
For the activities, I used our list from last year which I found it my notebook, fitted in activities we already had scheduled, and picked up a couple of ideas from The Artful Parent's Advent Calendar.
Here's our activity list:
As I said, I wasn't sure I was going to get around to a homemade calendar this year, so to cover myself I had already bought the one pictured above, an eeboo calendar, featuring artwork by renowned childrens book illustrator Melissa Sweet, whose work we are familiar with from the 'Baby Bear' series and the 'Hugaroo' books.
So now we have two... and at least some of it will be a surprise for me too!
We were back at Collage Collage yesterday (see my description of a workshop there here), enjoying another arty crafty tot drop-in with Erin. Much to Boo's delight, in line with her ongoing obsession, the workshop was all about bears, taking inspiration from another top quality book from Simply Read Books: A Growling Place by Thomas Aquinas Maguire. It's a flight of fantasy book, reminiscent of Sendak's 'Where the Wild Things Are'. The artwork has a graphic, stylized quality and the panoramic landscape format reminds me of comic strips. The girl in the story journeys with her teddy bear to the 'growling place', peopled with real bears, but she dresses them up in costumes and they are no longer intimidating. With its magical bear storyline this book also reminds me of Last Night by Hyewon Yum and Wonderbear by Tao Nyeu.
I learnt from the Simply Read website that Maguire is primarily an industrial designer, hence perhaps the graphic, sculptural quality to his work. He also looks like a schoolboy, but then I am middle aged!
I noticed on that last visit that the E15th St parade that Collage Collage is on, seems to have more thatn its fair share of arty crafty wonders. Today I put my head into Spool of Thread - another shop/workshop space, this time for adult seamstresses. They stock some delicious little-un's sewing patterns from Oliver and S and some for the grown ups from Anna Maria Horner. The range of fabrics is mouth-watering - Boo and I fell upon Heather Ross's 'owl and pussycat' fabric (she recites this poem with Dadda Boo) and I really want to come up with a project to make her something from that. I left empty handed (this time) but with a desire to return with a specific project in mind.
I also clocked The Art Way, another art workshop space for adults and kids, as well as Ruby Dog's Art House (always closed when we visit on Tuesdays alas) which looks v. alluring for a collage and print lover like myself.
There are also a couple of gallery spaces and laid back cafes along the parade, making it the most boho-creative little enclave I have come across for a while. I would always choose to live on the north shore of Vancouver for the (literally 'awesome') natural world on our doorstep, but I sometimes feel its a bit culturally bland, so its great to know places where I can go to get an artycrafty fix before returning to the mountain air.
Until this week, I had held back from taking Boo to art classes. After all, she has an art studio bedecked with quality art materials and an experienced art educator (c'est moi) at home. But, you know, sometimes planning and delivering thoughtful projects in the course of a busy week is just too much for this mama, especially when her creative energy is being channelled into building a wee human. And I have been somewhat out in a creative wilderness for the last couple of years whilst at home with Boo. So, both being in need of fresh creative input, I thought it was high time for a long-desired visit to Collage Collage, a shop come kid's workshop space come gallery space located near Main St, in Vancouver.
We've been planning this visit since February when we found Collage Collage's kids drawing station, in a downtown gallery in the midst of Olympic mayhem. For us, it requires a car journey across a busy bit of town, but my confidence in driving and negotiating the city has grown since I got my own car in February, and I was finally up for it.
There are many art workshops for kids available in this area, but it takes a little something special to entice me, and Collage Collage seemed to offer that. There is contemporary artists' work in the shop and there seems to be a broader approach to studying artists' work than the frequently trotted out 'modern masters', though I appreciate that they are 'new' to the kids!
I was practically salivating in the shop. As well as many familiar favourites (books by Lisa Cinar, Oliver Jeffers, colouring books by Taro Gomi and Rosie Flo, Okido magazine, art materials by Lyra, Stockmar etc etc) there were many things new to me and some artists' editions which look very interesting. I wasn't there to shop on this visit, however; I fancy a solo visit for that.
We dropped in on a Thursday morning for a drop-in one hour workshop for 2-3 year olds (and mamas/dadas), led by the owner Erin. The shop was flooded with little ones, and Erin managed to accommodate 13 little artists along the central table and on small desks. The class begun with free drawing on long rolls of paper and a chance to say hello to other wee ones and their parents. Then the children moved to the 'story carpet' and were introduced to some books about the surrealist artist Rene Magritte designed for children.
We looked at 'Mr M: The Exploring Dreamer' (Sozick Meister et al, Simply Read Books, 2010), an interpretation of Mr Magritte visiting landscapes of the imagination, which did seem to resemble Vancouver, with mountains, bridge, a bear, crows, and beach and so on. We also looked at a board book about Magritte which was most probably 'Magritte's Imagination' (Susan Goldman Rubin, Chronicle Books, 2009).
Storytime over, the children moved back to the table and drew elements from the landscape (bridge, mountains, beach etc) with oil pastels onto brown paper. Erin then gave out silhouettes of Mr M, his umbrella, crows, and trees, which were collaged onto the background. The next stage was to paint onto the composition. It was very effective to carry out the piece of work in stages for this age group as they are often quick to declare they have 'finished' and this created a good pace. I may have chosen to do the silhouette stage later as many of the kids obliterated theirs with paint, but its a small point. I don't want to generalise (as I don't really know) but at 2 years, Boo's art was all about process and experience. Now, however, she is beginning to approach some degree of representation. When she paints a narrative accompanies the painting to describe what she is painting. So I think she found the task of painting different elements such as the bridge (that's the green vertical lines in her painting!), the sea, beach, snow on the mountains etc helpful for her in structuring the composition. The final stage was the application of blue glitter paint which was pushed around with a spreader to represent rain.
The workshop concluded with a recap on the story carpet, a second look at the books studied, and some time to explore the book box, whilst the adults paid, chatted, or looked at the shop. There is also a little cubby hole with organic felt shapes and boards for those of approx 3ft in height.
This was Boo's first experience of making art in a class with her peers, and she was totally engrossed throughout. As well as drop-ins, 3-5 yr olds can attend a series of booked classes 'sans mama'. I'm sure it'll be great for her to do this once she is familiar with the place and structure, but I have to admit I'll be reluctant to leave, not for her sake, but for mine!
Apologies for the lack of pics of Collage Collage (forgot my camera - doh!) but you can see a whole load and find out all info about workshops etc at www.collagecollage.ca
I love plaster casting. It has that 'wow' (or 'oh dear' for that matter!) reveal moment, like printmaking, which gives me a bit of a thrill. Found moulds are one of my favourite ways to cast. There has to be some good come out of all the weird and wonderful plastic packaging we find ourselves with. So when I saw this at the bottom of a rather gooey cheesecake we consumed at the weekend, I thought only of filling it with plaster.
Then I remembered we had this, from some crayons that Beth has (don't recommend these ones by the way, they are difficult to use and too hard, stockmar are what we love). I wasn't sure that all the crayon shapes would cast as there was no 'base' between some of them, so I was figuring I could cast every other crayon shape... if you can get my drift.
We prepared the materials. Plaster of paris for casting, water, mixing sticks, one Boo.
Mixed up the plaster to a lovely creamy consistency.
And poured in. It's best to pour gradually and tap the side of your mould frequently so that the air bubbles rise to the surface and don't spoil your cast (more important if its finely detailed).
We left the casts for a few hours, then carefully removed from the moulds (which can be reused).
I suspected all the crayon bits around the side wouldn't cast, but I poured plaster in them anyway. Sure enough, in the removal of the mould they broke away, but this is what it would have looked like.
However, I think its fine without all the bits, and makes a pretty good star... or is it a snowflake? There is a lovely flat tile-like bit in the centre... I'm thinking of painting an image here or collaging something on... not sure yet.
Anyhow, they need a day or two to dry out completely now, then I can sand off the rough edges. You can paint plaster of course. I kind of like materials in themselves though, so I think I'll leave the round one white and put it on the nature table. The 'stars' might get an image in the centre as I said, but I'm not sure I'll paint the rest.
Last 3600 seconds of wasp is a mesmerising art film by Zatorski and Zatorski, in which the dying minutes of a wasp's life are portrayed with a Philip Glass soundtrack. We saw it at a Big Chill festival a few years back and it was probably the best thing at the festival that year for me.
This week I have been observing a few of these little creatures slowly shaking off their mortal coils as the seasonal changes continue. They seem to favour our solarium for their resting place.
Call me odd if you want (I know it) but I have a little collection of dead critters to which these will be added. A few years back a lot of my paintings featured insects, and sometimes a dead wasp made its way into the composition. When I had Beth and I stopped painting, looking back on my work I realised that much of my work was about death and decay; dead insects, decaying buildings, rotten fruit. It all seemed a bit morbid, especially after this beautiful little life spirit entered my life, and it was all about beginnings and new life. I am resolved to lighten up. But I still find dying wasps fascinating, sorry.
Boo is aware of my making of an exception for wasps in our 'we do not kill things' mantra. I don't remember ever being stung by one, but I see red when they are in close proximity, especially when they come near my daughter. So I have to admit to a slight thrill that their kind is expiring, especially if I get to watch.
It's been a soggy Labour Day weekend here, chilly enough even for the lighting of a fire to warm our cockles last night. Dadda Boo has been immersed in preparation for a summit next week, so things have been pretty low key around here, although his emergence from the office to concoct some fine wholesome soups has been much appreciated.
These images were taken of the view up through our skylight in the kitchen, I love to watch the rain fall upon the glass, and the clouds passing, rather like that James Tyrell installation where you go into a darkened room to sit and gaze at a frame rectangle of sky above your head.
We did, however, manage a family trip to the Vancouver Art Gallery today, where we sidelined the masses milling through the Rembrandt/Vermeer exhibition, and scooted up to the Andreas Gursky retrospective exhibition. Working on 'toddler time' (take whatever you can get), we shimmied through the exhibition, 'look its football players', 'look its a beach', in and out in less time than I used to take for my mooch around the exhibition bookshop (such luxuries a distant memory), but I feed on whatever small morsels I can get. It's hard not to be impressed by Gursky's work, its 'awesome' in the truth sense of the word, rather than the sense in which its used around here, like when you give someone the right change. It's grand in vision and execution, and the pieces I've seen before have also been grand in scale. However, many of the images in the Vancouver show are reproduced on a much smaller scale than I had expected, which was quite refreshing (though entailed more small child carrying so the refreshment didn't quite reach my arms) and felt a bit more human to me. I suppose I've felt his work to be quite macho with its grandness, and there is a strange sense of being alienated from the masses of people depicted in the images, we are so distant from them all.
Picking out a couple of images from the exhibition, these ones seem like an interesting juxtaposition (mine, not the curators). The first is from a rubbish dump in Mexico. I'm struck with the beauty of the image and find myself in the exhibition trying to imagine the stink, it seems so aethesthetised to me.
The second shows a designer trainers store. I wonder how many of the latter end up on the former?!
I am an artist/illustrator and full time mama to Beth (aka Boo) and Arthur (aka Boo Two).
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