There's a good bit of information sharing between artists lately. At least in my neighborhood. Just today I was told about Play Doh's Fun Factory extruding tools as a trick for clay (since I had so much fun with my garlic press, the idea of shmushing clay through other shapes is exciting).

I want to get my hands on the latest Art on Paper for the article Todd mentioned. And there's all of the good resources at NYFA and especially this how-to-use-our-resources-resource .

My clay class part 2 (summer intensive) starts tomorrow night and should provide plenty of opportunities to shmush clay. I will report. I will share.

have fun!
Rachael

I've been spending a lot of time alone, staring into space and wandering around like an idjiot in order to get myself drawing again and it's working. Managing to keep my sketchook pretty full with images and my head pretty clear this weekend. Drawing is often how I think, see, process, and relax. I'm trying some new things in my book but even when I just scribble the same old crap it's part of my making stuff-ness. The sketchbook is the gestation, the incubation, the messbook, the safety blanket, the thing I have clutched under my arm.

This morning I took the long way into the clay studio (where I had a tremendous time pushing clay through a garlic press like I've watched the little kids do in their clay class.) On the walk in, I looked a lot at the ginkgo trees.
Cleft leaves emerged in clusters from the trunk but then grew from branches higher in the tree.
All this was a few blocks from where I'm staying, a corner I cross pretty frequently but until I stopped to draw, I never saw the leaves.
Danny has a great little post about drawing, here.
I'm off to sleep relaxed and renewed and ready fer another crazy workweek with flashes of time to play clay and draw and dream of winning the lottery.
See ya,
Rachael

This morning with the news from London and those terrifying reports of pain, blood and chaos on trains and buses, I was reminded of how many people deal with violence and choas on a daily basis. Those of us that live in comfy cozy middle class lives in America and elsewhere can easily forget that there is a sea of anger our privledge and arrogance helps stir. Violence is always wrong and I hold my breath in hope that hurt won't cause more hurt.

I stayed out of the studio this morning because my head wasn't even halfway clear of the chaos, and stress, and then at the end of today I stepped back into a closed room with quiet, materials to work, and no expectations. I made some slabs of clay into odd little vessels, lumpy and unsure but fillable with...stuff. One squareish box oughtta hold some beans, they'll help counter the square with round.

What can we make that makes good? What kind of a clay box can hold pain?

I've been watching (we have a tv again) Morgan Spurlock's 30 days and was particularly impressed with last night's Gay/straight episode. What I'm enjoying is the transformation, the honesty of the host folks and those that undergo the 30 days and the information plugged in.

And then, late today, I found myself thinking about E.B. White ("The egg is all"). I was spurred on by a quote used in an introduction by Geoff O'Garain to a Hannah Hinchman book.

"Even now, this late in the day, a blank sheet of paper holds the greatest excitement this is for me— more promising that a silver cloud, and prettier than a red wagon."

I searched and found also

"If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world, and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day."

take care and goodnight, be safe and help others, make and share, be susceptible to change and sleep well,
Rachael

There's the odd little folded vase I'm pretty proud of.



There's some thinking about Fairfield Porter that Anna shared.
There's the kickass rock 'n roll band that's coming to my town shortly (alas I might hafta miss).
There's the short week-ness and the crazy busy sketching I've been up to.
There's the paintings in process that are emerging from the mess of the fire.

There's some good work here and I'm enjoying exploring these shows even if the phrase "cutting edge" makes my tummy hurt.
There's a reason I haven't blogged much, a reason I haven't called, a reason I'm making more art and trouble than sound financial decisions, visits to friends, or healthy meals. The tofu remains uncooked.
(I just don't know what those reasons are yet).
take good care,
Rachael

My dear sweet (and very talented artist curator friend) Lisa keeps asking how she can help by setting up an Amazon wishlist or some sort. Everyone's been so generous already that I don't think it's necessary. But, that said, I did lose all my art books and have been slowly rebuilding by buying used interesting art books. The one I'm reading now is this smart little book about the art market and auction world. Truly, I bought it because it's so pretty but the author, Judith Benhamou-Huet, is clearly and articulately pointing out again and again how messed up the entire auction, collection and market system is for art.
I've been skeptical for years about the too close ties between collectors (the rich and nouveau riche) and protectors (curators and museum folk) and especially because I think the value of art is not in it's rarity but should be in it's everpresence.
I guess what I mean is that by making and sharing and connecting and distributing and encouraging and shouting about art we are truly serving the social purpose of art. We don't make art for money (at least I don't know anyone who does), we make art because we have to, because it can make good, because it can be shared, not purchased for ridiculous amounts of money at notoriously nefarious auction houses by people who will covet, hide, and use objects to bolster their social status or support their ego. I think most collectors collect because they love the things, but is love hoarding objects or sharing them?
I have more idea sorting to do and am still reading. And yes you can send me a booklist of things to read. I have 2 (count em!) library cards and no real desire to hoard books like I have before, ideas are weightless but books are heavy...
long holiday weekend coming and plenty of time to think, paint, read and sleep. Ah! May yours be as lovely, take care
Rachael