Shifting Consciousness

December 15, 2015 / skyevans / 7 Comments

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I used to be a teacher. I used to be a painting contractor. I used to be a glorified factory worker for a large technology company. I used to be a lot of things. Lately I’m wondering what I am now. Things that seemed to be clear cut are no longer clear anymore. It’s as if I’ve awoken from a long sleep and someone rearranged the furniture while I was unconscious. Everything looks the same but it’s all in the wrong place.

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Now I usually love rearranging the furniture. There is something very satisfying about opening up my space and redirecting the traffic patterns throughout my house so that I use my home in a new way. There’s an energy shift in moving furniture, I love the feng shui-ness of it all. So the metaphoric rearranging of my brain, my thoughts, my goals and who exactly I might be is giving me the same boost I get from actually moving a couch across the living room.

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Only this time, I’m having a harder time deciding the final pattern… it all seems in flux. But in the spirit of going with the flow, while still maintaining a concrete grasp on reality, I’m drawing and journaling my thoughts. I’ve just completed my second on-line Mandala workshop (check out Julie Gibbons if you’d like to know more… she’s a darling Scottish teacher making magic on the internet) . It’s been inspiring and very satisfying to draw mandalas but I can’t say I’ve reached any clarity of thought. Maybe it’s the circular nature of the mandala… or the zen like meditative state I find myself in while coloring tiny intricate patterns. Maybe it’s digging down into my subconscious and stirring up the silt that’s muddying up the waters of my present. Maybe it’s mind blowing thought porn that has me watching YouTube videos on math and science, spiritual growth and psychology that’s got me lost in the swirling tornado of ideas.

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Regardless of what it is… my blog is for sharing art. And yes, ideas too. But until I can focus on those ideas, get a handle on what exactly they are, the art will have to do. Some of my thoughts are too personal to share on a blog… there’s a vulnerable quotient to being so transparent, especially since clarity right now is exactly the issue at hand. Until the dust settles and I can see what the hell is going on, these mandalas seem to be serving as my touchstone. Because right now, it’s as if everytime I look away, someone keeps moving the furniture and my only safe zone is drawing.

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Is it possible to be drawing for your life?

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The Bluebird of Happiness

October 2, 2015October 5, 2015 / skyevans / 2 Comments

My husband is kinda cute. Years ago, there was a family of bluebirds that would periodically try to use our seasonally dormant chimney as a high rise condo for a nest. This “try” never got farther than the “Oh shit, what have I done?” stage when the lesser brained bird would flutter all the way down the chimney pipe and into the actual dormant wood stove where he (?) would summarily get stuck.

Thus necessitating a daring rescue from the occupants of the actual home these feathered invaders were trying to “squat” on. Or in. Whatever.

The cute part is coming up. I came home from work one day to hear a tale from previously introduced husband. How he heard a sound. He ignored it, then heard it again. Frantic, fluttering. Fluttering? He got up from his relaxed state of couch surfing and tracked down the odd noise.

The house terrier was jumping excitedly at the glass panes of the wood stove when the hubby saw a brief movement within. Then the flutter sound. He quickly sussed it out…. a bird! In the stove!

Upon opening the door, he saw, there, in the ashes of winter passed, a small bluebird. It peered up at him with eyes of beady black, then, in a flash, it leaped up and flew OUT! Out, but INTO the house! There was a bird, at large, in the house.

The terrier leaped, to no avail. The bird, he was quicker! The husband yelled and fell back. There was a bird in the house. A WILD bird!

The little bluebird flew to the window and discovered the force field we use to protect our nest… we like to call it glass. The bird made a slight thump and bounced off and into my fast recovering husband’s outstretched hands. Touchdown!

He held the small bird and did the thing we all do when fortunate enough to hold a wild bird in ones hand… he looked it over very carefully. It’s blue feathers, its small beak, those round eyes rimmed with a band of gray. There are delicate intricacies of patterns, color, fletching, these things you don’t see when a bird is on the wing. To see it up close, without your own eye pressed to a binocular lense, is to see it in the real. To feel the warmth and the tiny heart beat in your hand is to feel the spirit of nature herself.

The hub and the bird regarded one another. Eye to eye, for a moment. And in that moment they were awed and touched. Knowing time was important, to hold the bird longer than necessary was to trap him and harm him with fear, my husband opened the door to the outside world. He stepped beyond the porch and held the bird to the open sky. In a blink, the bird leapt and was gone, swooping off in long arcs across our meadow of spring grass.

In that moment, my husband was happy. He felt blessed by the bluebird of happiness.

And that, was the story he shared with me. It was the story I remembered when a week later, that bird forgot his error in judgement and found its way into my living room again. This time, I got to hold the bluebird of happiness in my hands. And you know what? Happiness is a fragile thing. It has to be set free in order for it to fly and be and create more happiness. It’s a rare thing to hold it in your hands.

We both were blessed with that story. As for the bluebird? He found a better home and didn’t make that mistake a third time. If I want to look closely at them, I have to dial in the focus on our Bushnells… and then close one eye because they never seem to work right for me. They are lovely to admire from a distance and I’m glad they are taking a pass on the chimney pipe these days. But that brief encounter was a small blue miracle, one of the many magical moments that make up a life and make one happy to be alive.

The bluebird of happiness:

Wait?! Summer’s over already?

September 14, 2015February 15, 2017 / skyevans / 9 Comments

Hello everyone!

I was going to title this How I Spent My Summer Vacation, but after seeing the title of my last post… well, I just had to go with the theme. Quite the span of time, from late June thru to mid Sept, and while I may have committed the blogging sin of allowing too much time!! to go between posts and losing readership… well, consider me a sinner then. The weather was beautiful and there was just too much to do outside than sit inside hunched over my laptop. As it was, I barely got around to paying the bills and keeping our financial world afloat. What I did do, was pay homage to my love of all things Laura Ingalls Wilder by making jams, juices, canning and drying assorted veggies/fruits, pickling and other homey pioneer type chores.

We rebuilt the pump house, upgraded our water system, fenced the garden. I fixed gutter, gate and shed as well as replacing porch boards and molding around doors and windows. In between the myriad of chores and duties of the small farm owner, there were the half a dozen or so camping trips (with horse and without), visits with friends and family, a new puppy and the 24 chicks in my coop that are growing up to be our new layers and fryers. All amidst the crushing drought and crazy ass wildfires of the Pacific Northwest.

We are not out of the woods yet with that, major fires in Northern California and Washington are devastating lives and homes. We escaped a lightning strike fire just last week as fast acting neighbors and the local fire department put out the flames on a 100 foot tall Douglas Fir tree a mile from our home! We are all looking forward to the rain these days and hoping for cool weather that won’t bring thunderstorms our way. While careless people do start fires, the majority of fires out here are started by electrical storms. Hot summers, drought and thunderstorms are a bad combination.

Storm clouds roll in on my camp... this was taken moments before a storm hit my tent. Scary!

Storm clouds roll in on my camp… this was taken minutes before a severe thunderstorm hit my tent. Scary!

And so, my art has taken a back seat. The painting I started in June became a thorn in my side, so it was removed from the easel and is awaiting a time when I can look at it objectively as opposed to the sneer I give it now. However, good news on the muse front! Inspiration was found on a wonderful 4 day solo backpacking trip to the Pacific Crest Trail. After painting visions of other women’s journeys, I have found my own while traversing the famous PCT.

My backpacking art kit got some use!

It’s funny, I knew I was on a mission to take photos of the trail so I could add my own image to the Wilderness of Women series, but the one I picked to paint wasn’t what I had planned. Well, life doesn’t work according to plan sometimes. The second I took the shot, I knew what I was going to do.

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It was time to put my studio dog, Scout, into another painting. Dogs have been a big part of my backpacking experience and she especially has been an integral part of my studio life. It all just made sense.

Scout on the PCT

The balance needed for my painting however, is different from the snap shots I take in the field. Sometimes a photo is perfectly put together and I don’t have to do much manipulation, but that day, in that place, I couldn’t get the exact image. The painting is a compilation of 4 images, strung together and overlapped into a panoramic view. It captures my actual view while Scout and I sat at an elevation of 6850 feet and had a well earned lunch. It was a beautiful day and as I studied my position, I realized that by climbing up to this pass, I had hiked every bit of the PCT, from top to bottom on my map. It was a very good feeling, which must have made my muse happy because as soon as there was a lull in all my food preservation activities, she gave me this: (click on image for a full view)

Lunch with Scout on the PCT

Painting Mt. Hood

April 29, 2015 / skyevans / 7 Comments

As part of my Wilderness of Women series, I decided to paint the iconic Mt. Hood. Judy Flexer sent me a fabulous photo of Mt. Hood from the PCT, and while I liked it, somehow living in Oregon and actually painting the one big iconic volcano in our state was… well, maybe too big of a project. I was so reluctant about the subject matter that I pretty much filed the image under “do not paint… like, ever!” in my mind and that was that. Until I was searching for my next project. And I kept coming back to that image, it was big, and bold and compelling as all hell.

So I wondered… why not? I proved to myself I had the ability, so what was stopping me? I couldn’t think of anything other than my own little fragile ego. If I compared my work to the quintessential hero of the landscape, Albert Bierstadt, I felt I was falling short of greatness. But why compare? He was a great painter, yes, and while it is true that he has a particularly nice rendering of Mt. Hood that happens to hang in the Portland Art Museum, surely that’s no reason. Intimidating, yes, but really, that’s a silly reason to not paint something. It’s not like the PAM is calling me anytime soon to ask what was I thinking?! Damn it, I wanted to do it just because at first, I didn’t. It may be a perverse kind of determination, but it’s how I spurred myself to get over myself and just do it already!

In Judy’s photo, Mt. Hood is bathed in sunset colors, the viewer stands between the sunset to the west and looks east at the mountain. The eastern sky is a deepening blue, as opposing sky lines often are; the foreground is shadowed, you only know it’s sunset because of the spectacular glow of Hood. The Multnomah Indians called it, Wy’east, and he was one of the sons of the great spirit. Wy’east is a big beefy volcanic guy and without his deep mantle of snow, we see all his orange, golden, tan and ochre tones. You can tell it’s late in the summer and the white cape he usually sports has mostly disappeared. Hood is pretty much naked in this picture… and something about that really appealed to me.

And now, for some other perverse reason, I decided to not only paint him, but document myself in a whole new medium to me, film. Well, digital anyway. Last time I made a film was in a class where we actually spliced real film! So, not only did I have to learn the software, I had to hang up my phone on a tripod and upload, upload, upload. Argh!! It tested my patience and because it was a distraction, I skipped filming portions of the painting. So, it’s not a great piece of movie making, but it is kinda fun and explains my delay at posting to my blog!

Without further ado, Painting Mt. Hood. A digital short by Sky Evans… enjoy!

Mt Hood

If you’d like to learn more about Albert Bierstadt and his amazing talent, here’s a quick link to his version of Mt. Hood: http://www.wikiart.org/en/albert-bierstadt/mount-hood-oregon-1865

Hamsa for peace of mind

April 6, 2015 / skyevans / 4 Comments

Seems like life had other plans for me lately. The garden called, so did the lawn, the animals needed some attention, then there was the brush pile to burn, the floor to sweep, the kitchen to clean. On and on and on it goes… it’s always something. Even the atmosphere was colluding to keep me outside doing all those spring time tasks that needed good weather. Until I was ready to pull out my hair and became completely overwhelmed with chores and my ever growing list of tasks. Just when I was really getting sick of it all, a cold rain swept in and I finally headed into the studio. I really needed to get something out of me and preferably onto a canvas. But my next painting had yet to be decided. What to do, what to do? I put on my favorite album and got lost in a meditative Hamsa.

The Hamsa is a symbol of protection. It’s an old image, used throughout history to ward off the “evil eye”. Drawing one sends out good vibes and puts those inner demons to rest. Supposedly. I know I felt better just working on it. Maybe one way to look at the “evil eye” is the “I” inside. Meaning the ego. The ego gets wrapped up in feeling important, in feeling good about oneself. And for me, getting all those chores done does feel good. Checking things off my list feels like I’ve been productive. But I need to balance that mad dash at productivity with a creative flow that replenishes my sense of self.

You’d think by now in my life I’d have figured out how to stay balanced. But what I have learned is the scales are always tipping one way or the other and one has to adapt and change and constantly seek balance. That’s just the nature of life. Having the tools to help you find that balance point again, whatever the tool may be, is a good thing. Keeping the balance is important. Maybe even more important than mowing the lawn.

Here’s my Hamsa… colored pencil, sharpie and alcohol markers.

Be gone evil thoughts!!

The Wilderness of Women

March 27, 2015March 27, 2015 / skyevans / 6 Comments

This winter I’ve been collecting images from the wilderness; photos taken by women. I’ve made some wonderful connections with women hikers (good old Facebook!) and this has fueled my desire to get back to the back country. I don’t have much to say about it other than I noticed a trend in these paintings. That is, I seem to be recreating these images with intense, vibrant colors. Far exceeding the photos sent to me, the hues are saturated, brilliant, strong and deep. I suppose I am expressing my own personal intensity when it comes to these remote places even though I have not been to these specific locations. Yet.

Anyway, it all came together without the fuss and drama I had experienced with Spectacle Lake. I have no idea why! Maybe I was just in a better “head space” when I got into it… seems like life is on track right now and my own personal dramas have been smoothed out. So without much fanfare, musings or stray thoughts, here it is, Mile 2330 on the PCT. It’s the fourth in the series, based on the photo from “thru hiker” Jocelyn (Patches) Songer. Thank you my fellow Yankee!

Mile 2330 on the PCT Oil on canvas 12 x 16

In the Eye of the Beholder

March 8, 2015March 27, 2015 / skyevans / 4 Comments

Though the artist must remain master of (their) craft, the surface, at times raised to the highest pitch of loveliness, should transmit to the beholder the sensation which possessed the artist.

~Alfred Sisley

I’ve pondered these ideas… is the art in the eye of the beholder, or in the artist’s rendering of that thing, that image, that concept? Is it both or neither? Is it, as Sisley suggests, a vehicle of transmission? Art being the thing that carries the sensation, the feeling of the artist to the viewer who can then somehow share in what it was that possessed the artist?

Well, lots to think about there. And many have. For me, art is a very personal thing… you, and only you, know what you like. Sometimes you know right away, and sometimes it grows on you, but regardless which way you fall in the spectrum of like or dislike, no one should tell you what to like. It’s up to you to decide. For me, I gave up a long time ago trying to please my audience, because that’s an impossible task really, and so, I decided to please myself.

The other side of that same coin is, sometimes, in my own personal work, I may not care for a piece. If I hate it, I will paint over it so I can get some more miles out of a canvas. (Most artists are into recycling… even the old masters did it, it’s not a new concept.) Or I will stash it away as a reminder that not everything I do is gold… far from it! I really should get rid of some of the old crap, but I’m rather nostalgic about the old stuff… even the bad old stuff. So, I keep it for me, and show it to no one.

BUT, one day, a friend was in my studio and she gushed over an unfinished piece that I happened to think of as bad enough to recycle. There it was, propped up against the wall waiting for a coat of gesso so I could stop looking at it’s horribleness. I really disliked it. However, much to my surprise, she loved it! Something about the colors spoke to her and when I gave it to her she was thrilled. I made her day with something that meant very little to me, but meant so much to her.

Now, rather than focus on the part about me handing over something I had no attachment to (as if that makes my gesture less than noble and then less than worthy) focus instead on the part about Maria. She loved it. She was happy. She was so pleased to adopt this little wayward canvas and give it a home.

This was the third time this happened to me. It took this happening three times before the significance of the act held any meaning. And that was this: for me, even as a creator of art, am not the sole person to judge the value or beauty of my own work.

While I am making it, while I paint and create, I get something intangible. And if, at the end, that thing pleases me, then great. If it doesn’t, then that’s ok too. I still got something from the process. BUT that thing that I don’t care for aesthetically does not mean that it’s bad. In fact, someone else may love it. More than one someone… maybe even lots of someones!

Case in point, Purple Repose:

Purple repose

I hated this painting. In fact, I was planning on recycling it but while I was waiting for the paint to dry I changed my mind. My husband saw it and liked it, so, with a shrug, I kept it. I hung it in the house and after a while, it grew on me too. I came to like the blue colors, the broad strokes, the way the horse’s shoulder bumped out. Later that year, I included it (as a print) in a series of blank greeting cards. It became one of my best sellers. People loved it!

The same thing happened with Walker Pass, only in reverse:

North of Walker Pass

By reverse, I mean, this is by far my absolute favorite painting (right now). I LOVE this piece. It only got a couple of dozen Facebook “likes”. Granted, this painting has yet to make it out of the house, but still… my dog snapshots get more “likes”. I didn’t take it personally, because I truly believe in my heart and soul, that art is a personal thing. I may take it personally if you tell me you hate it and why it’s awful and say other mean things about the thing I love, but hey, I’m only human and that kind of behavior is mean spirited and small. You are entitled to your opinion, just keep the details to yourself if you hate something (or someone!) I love.

On the other hand, my next piece, I just didn’t love so much. It’s not recycle worthy, not by far… you’d never see it if it was. And I still wouldn’t post or show any piece I found embarrassingly bad, or trite or derivative or unworthy. So, just because I don’t love it, doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I may just think of it more as a second runner up.

But, it was a challenge. I worked hard on this one. The drawing was complex, the details, intense. It is the 3rd in my series of images from the wilderness, photos taken by women hikers on the CDT or the PCT. I’m calling the series, The Wilderness Of Women. Now, here is where I love social media. On Facebook, I asked women hikers if they would share with me (for the purpose of painting) photos from their hikes and I got an amazing outpouring of images to choose from. So, choose one I did (thank YOU, Judy Flexer) and got to work.

Sketch for Spectacle Lake

I thanked Judy online and somehow, I don’t recall how it happened, but Judy kindly sent me a high resolution image of her photo. I thanked her politely, but inside I was worried. All those details… how was I going to block out all those details? “Oh, buck up, Sky… you’ll be fine!” I told myself. But I was worried.

And so, I bucked up and promptly fucked up. It became a horrid mess of tiny, detailed, muddy strokes of paint. Not the sure and swift flight of color that signified I was “in the groove.” I bravely soldiered on, slogged up one muddy hill and down the next… madly mixing, swiping, swooping, adding, subtracting and aaarrrggggg!!!! Nothing was working. I was in utter despair. So I did the only thing I could do. The thing I have never done before. I almost couldn’t believe what I was doing. I took it off my easel, laid it flat, and poured turpentine over the entire painting. I took a rag and wiped it clean. All of it. Even the sketch. Gone.

I waited two days to go back into the studio. I just couldn’t bear to look at it. I had never scrubbed out a canvas before, it felt like a failure. But two days later, I was ready to get back to work. I followed the faint leftovers of pencil lines that were under the first orange outline and redrew the sketch. Instead of the high resolution image, I went back to my original Facebook clipping. That picture, I altered to be bolder, more saturated in color than the photograph Judy had taken. I made it small and took off my glasses to blur the details. I needed to see blocks of colors, not every single rock and tree. I put on a favorite CD and lost myself in Spectacle Lake.

This second go round was tricky… I still had some issues and some personal demons to slay, but it finally came together and I was satisfied. I signed it today, so that pretty much means it’s done. It may not be a favorite, but it’s good, I’ll say that. And when I posted it to the woman hikers page on Facebook…. well, it got 75 likes, right off the bat. Goes to show you… beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Spectacle Lake on the PCT
Oil on canvas, 14 x 16

My Father’s Shirt

February 25, 2015 / skyevans / 1 Comment

I was sorting through some items stored in a little used corner of the studio when I came across a bundle of paint rags. I usually air out rags after a few paintings, letting them dry outdoors so the turpentine and oil fumes don’t create a fun little science experiment called spontaneous combustion. All the rags were dry and stiff and pretty useless. I wondered why I was even keeping them when out of the pile this little beauty rolled out.

Believe it or not, this old shirt belonged to my dad, circa 1972. He probably doesn’t even know I have it or that I kept it all this time. It predates every brush I have. (The ones I started with were worn out ages ago.) Somehow I got a hold of my dad’s old shirt and used it to clean my brushes and went on to clean every brush I used for the next few decades. This shirt has a dollop of paint on it from every painting I made during that time. I guess I kept it as a good luck charm or something. After awhile, I made sure I swiped a brush across it even if I had another rag by my easel, you know, for luck.

One day, I aired it out and never put it back where I could use it. And then I forgot all about it. Until it was unearthed in an archeological dig of sorts. I smoothed it out and thought about all the projects we had worked on together. The trip down memory lane made me smile. There are a lot of crappy paintings wiped on that shirt, and some that are still pretty good. Here’s one from the pretty good list:

Full Moon Song
Oil on canvas board
18″x24″

I have a bit of a rocky history with my dad. However, through all the years of ups and downs, I still had his shirt to help me clean up my creative mess. Eventually, we managed to persevere and develop a better “grown up” relationship. So I guess it really was a lucky shirt after all.

The Inspirational Stretch

January 27, 2015 / skyevans / 2 Comments

Where does inspiration come from? One can never tell, really. I like to think of it as weather… a storm that blows in strong and unexpected or a misty rain that slowly seeps into everything. Sometimes you see it coming and can shape it to bond and meld with your own will. Sometimes however, there are bolts of lightning that make the hair stand up on your head and scare the bejeezus out of you. I like those moments of inspiration, they are electrifying, thrilling and exciting. But I also love the slow seep, where an idea builds and builds and before you know it, you’ve created something magical out of nothing.

$Inspiration is where you find it. this frozen puddle makes a cool fractal!$

Inspiration is where you find it. This frozen puddle makes a cool fractal!

But lately, I’ve been all over the weather map. It’s been raining, sunny, stormy, foggy. And since our Western Oregon weather pattern has been matching my inspirational mood, I’ve been spending a great deal of time outside. I’ve been hiking and testing equipment and getting ready for a return to backpacking.

That’s me in the corner… getting in touch with my hiker self.

Maybe it’s all the hiking… or all the thinking and research I’ve been doing, but my muse has kinda skipped out on me. It seems as if I didn’t have a single idea. Well, that’s not exactly right… I have ideas but what I want is lightning bolts.

So, when in doubt, clean. I straightened the studio, scraped off the old paint on my palette and checked my inventory. That’s when it hit me… I was out of canvas! How did that happen?!

Ok, so I know how it happened. I’ve been painting. Duh. I thought about getting on line and ordering a new batch but I came across some stretcher bars I bought on sale and decided to do something I hadn’t done in quite some time. Stretch my own canvas.

What’s that you say? Stretch… canvas?? Well, well, children, gather round. Way back when granny was poor as… well, a starving artist, she learned how to stretch her own canvas so she could paint. Nowadays, she usually buys pre-stretched but she still knows how! All you need is canvas, a wood frame and a staple gun. I used to grip my canvas like a mad demon, but then I discovered canvas pliers which made all the difference in the world.

Tools of the trade… so to speak.

You can use regular duck canvas you buy at a fabric store (if you can find a heavy enough weight for the job) or you can order specialty artists canvas. They even make pre-gessoed canvas. Gesso is the sizing that is painted on a raw canvas to prime the surface for paint. More about that later.

First things first, the frame. You can build your own, or buy the premade and ready to put together “in whatever size configuration you like” kind. These slip together at the ends with some clever tongue in groove joints… a couple of taps with the hammer and you are good to go. Cut the canvas to size, (larger than you need, obviously) then, starting in the middle, staple to the frame.

Canvas pliers doing their job.

Canvas pliers have a nice wide mouth and a foot to pry along the edge of a frame or stretcher bar. They grip the canvas, you roll them over the edge of the bar and pulling tight, staple the snot out of it! I couldn’t hold the camera, the canvas and the staple gun all at the same time, so you’ll have to use your imagination. I staple each middle section, turning the canvas as I go, then work the corners in turn. To get an even stretch, you need to put in a few staples, turn the canvas, do a few more and so on. Rotation is the key to an even stretch.

All finished stapling and trimming the excess canvas. I like to wrap my canvas around the edge of the frame and then paint the edges of my work. Eliminates the need for frames.

Probably the trickiest part besides the stretch is how to fold the corners. How? Trial and error, my friend, trial and error. Just do the same thing on each corner, and make your folds as even as possible. If you are not handy enough to make a neat corner fold, then canvas stretching may not be for you. No worries though… it is kinda a pain in the ass to stretch canvas. There is a reason why I don’t usually do this anymore!

Next step, Gesso!

Gesso… two types. Cheap and the not so cheap.

Gesso is just fancy primer. You can use regular wall primer but it is usually very thin unless you buy a top of the line product like Benjamin Moore which has some nice primers. Artist quality gesso is made with high quality materials such as titanium, plaster, clay, gypsum and marble dust suspended in an acrylic polymer emulsion. They will be thicker, cover better, and have the ability to be tinted. But several coats of the cheaper stuff will most likely do the job.

I use a wide brush that is dedicated to primers as the thick material is hard to wash out and will ruin my finer brushes.

If I had ironed the canvas before stretching I probably wouldn’t have this fold shadow in my fabric. I thought I could stretch it out, but alas, it is still there. The Gesso process will eliminate it, since as it dries, the sizing (glues and acrylic polymers) will shrink, further tightening the canvas.

I paint several coats in perpendicular strokes. Even though this image shows a diagonal stroke, it was just to lay down the Gesso before smoothing it left to right. You can see how thick it is.

As I was writing this post, I stopped to do a little online research on Gesso and was surprised to find a number of YouTube sites that showed how to make homemade gesso with white glue, titanium paint, plaster and of all things, baby powder. You can save $$ by making your own gesso, but I wouldn’t suggest following unreputable sources. Some of the videographers couldn’t even read the label on the Plaster of Paris box, which threw all credibility out the window for me. However, they are on the right track. Gesso in it’s most simple terms is white stuff and glue… painted on a surface so you can then paint on something white. Done poorly, it will flake off and ruin your work. Done well and it will last hundreds of years. Keep in mind those old masters of yesteryear didn’t have access to the wealth of materials we can find in our local home improvement store. So, really, in all probability you are going to be ok no matter what you use!

Finished canvas ready to rock and roll!

Best part of stretching my own canvas… I can make a non standard shape (this one is about 16″ by 34″ something you cannot find anywhere) as well as the satisfaction of DIY. And I saved about $35. Ten paintings later, that’s $350 so not too bad in the savings department. Oh yeah, and I also found my inspiration for my next piece! That lightning bolt was lurking about waiting for me to stroll by. So stay tuned!

Bookbinding! Who does that?

December 18, 2014 / skyevans / 1 Comment

Yes, indeedy, who does bookbinding? Well, most assuredly there is a whole industry around bookbinding, but most people aren’t into it as a craft. Once upon a time someone showed me how to bind a book. So I taught my students how, but I haven’t done one in 20 years. Not one to let old skills moulder away, I hunted up some examples to study before I attempted to bind the book I had just spent a month writing. Dang it all, couldn’t find ONE example. Which really bugs me, because I had a whole folder of bookbinding samples from my school teaching days. Just in case I ever came across a desperate class in need of the ancient art of bookbinding. That’s what I get for cleaning my studio. I throw things away that haven’t seen the light of day in 10 years or so and lo and behold I am in need of that very old thing. BUT fortunately, I didn’t throw away my brain. I did remember the basic gist of the thing, so what the hell, I collected up what I would need and plunged into the fray!

Materials needed: card board, glue, paper, ruler, x acto knife and the thing you are binding

I had to decide on a color scheme and found a faux finish sample I had painted on the back of an old print. That would be my cover, so I embellished it to represent an aspect of the story.

Not that these look like crop circles, but there are crop circles in the story.

After I measured and planned out the size of the book, I cut out my cardboard front and back, then glued them down (using my spray glue) to their respective covers.

Note the hinge tab. That is so the book will fold open on the seam. I drew green lines on the cardboard so I would line them up correctly. Then I trimmed off the extra paper and folded the sides up. Once the folds are made, I cut out the corners so when I flatten them down they will fit nicely.

The corners are trimmed roughly, I didn’t bother measuring. Then I glued down the edges to the cardboard. Next, after measuring my end papers, I glued the end papers on top of the covers, hiding the folded edge.

Next I assemble the book. Making sure everything lines up as neatly as possible.

To help keep it all in place, I used rubber bands and later, even wood clamps. I made a template where the holes should go, every half inch. The template also protects the cover from the drill.

I drilled a pilot hole on the top and on the bottom and then used 2 nails to hold the book down while I drilled the rest.

20141214_140720 Here’s the final row of holes all drilled out. I use a drill with a very small bit on this book because it is thick, but on thinner books, you can just use a nail to make the hole. A drill however, will give you a much cleaner hole.

I even put a nail in the center hole to keep all the pages aligned. This will make things easier when I start to sew it together. At this point, I am ready to sew. I found an old upholstery needle, threaded it with cotton twine and got started. Here’s the part where I am a bit fuzzy about how this should go. So I made a few practice runs, before realizing it is as important to go up and down with my stitches as it is to go side to side, or else the pages won’t hold properly when you open the book. I sewed one book all the way before discovering this, so had to take it apart and start over. If you are considering doing this project yourself you’ll have to figure out a pattern that works for you. I made 3 books but didn’t sew them with all the same pattern.

This is what I mean by side to side and up and down. You have to go through the holes more than once.

Made a few false starts and broke some thread, but eventually I figured it out. At the bottom of the pic under my fingers is a pattern that didn’t work out. I pulled out the stitches as I went. I left them in since they were helping to hold the book together. I had used wood clamps on my first attempt, but they got in the way. I left the nails in as well and pulled them out as I came to them. They assured the pages would stay aligned, making it easier to sew. The other two books I made were thinner and I was able to use paper squeeze binders. Well, here is the final result!

What did you do last month? Oh nothing much, wrote a novel, printed it and bound it. Bookbinding rocks!