*Traveling to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, gouache on postcard*

Art Adventure (part 4): Richmond

April 11, 2024

Previously: Part One, Part Two, and Part Three

Monday February 5th

On February 5th, I took the train from D.C. to Richmond, Virginia. The train rolled into the city in the early evening. My friend’s husband picked me up and drove me to their new home, not far from the train station.

I was so excited to see my good friend Kristen and her husband Daniel, and finally meet her two young children: Alice age three, and Ada, 13 months. Kristen and I first met in Civita Castellana, Italy in the summer of 2017. We were roommates together in the JSS program , through which I had the incredible opportunity to paint in Italy for two weeks.

Over the years since that summer, Kristen and I managed to stay in touch and even meet up from time to time for various art adventures. But I hadn’t seen her since the summer of 2020, when she was pregnant with her first child, Alice. It felt like an eternity!

I had such a wonderful time! I really enjoyed playing with the little kids. But I have to admit, a one and a three year old are a lot of work! (My kids are 14 and 17 now, so I had sort of forgotten how intense younger kids are.) I really enjoyed myself, though. And I did lots of sketches of the kiddos during my visit.

*Ada at the breakfast counter, pencil on postcaord*

*Baby Ada, and Kristen looking at a book with Ada (postcards)*

Tuesday February 6th

On the first morning, Alice and I completed this unicorn puzzle. You can see how ecstatic we are at our achievement. It was a Big Deal.

*Alice and I complete a unicorn puzzle! #success*

That same morning, after dropping the kids off at preschool, Kristen and I went to a nearby cafe for lattes. Then we walked over to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, only a few blocks from Kristen’s house!

*Lattes with my artist friend* *Kristen*!

There was a special exhibit in the museum, "Elegy,” a solo show of work by Dawoud Bey. Dawoud Bey is a contemporary American artist, and the show displayed 42 of his photographs as well as two film instillations. It was a sobering and emotional experience, a beautiful yet harrowing look at American landscapes deeply connected to slavery. The show depicted, among other things, images from the Underground Railroad as well as the ruins of Louisiana plantations.

Kristen and I spent many hours at the Dawoud Bey show, quietly looking at each image, just being with it. I thought a lot about slavery, imagining the grim and terrifying realities that enslaved people had experienced in our country for centuries. It’s so strange to think that, historically speaking, slavery really wasn’t all that long ago. It was such a huge and traumatic part of our country’s history and, consequently, the aftershocks of it still reverberate in the present day.

“Elegy” offered a (needed) opportunity for people to contemplate slavery, something that we often don’t want to think about. It was very moving and powerful. After the show, Kristen and I decided not to look at any other paintings in the museum that day, we wouldn’t be able to take anything else in. So we quietly walked home, absorbing what we had seen, and reflecting on our experience.

I took a lot of photos of Dawoud Bey’s photos, but I don’t feel like they came out as well as those that you can see on the museum’s website, so I encourage you to look there. Here is one photo of a scene from the Underground Railroad that I got from the museum’s website:

*Untitled (Trail and Trees)*, 2023, Dawoud Bey (American, born 1953), gelatin silver print, 48 x 59 in. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Gift of Mrs. Alfred duPont, by exchange, 2020.168.1. Image © Dawoud Bey

There was another landscape in particular that I felt was especially moving, and I spent a long time sketching it. I think I would like to make some monotypes based on the sketch. Here is my sketch that I did that day:

Later that night, I offered to try to put little Ada to sleep. I rocked her back and forth and sang her lullabies, as I used to do with my own babies. When she finally yielded to sleep, I experienced that wonderful feeling, the heavy, damp little thump on my chest, the baby’s head finally giving up and succumbing to sleep. And my own deep breath of relief, grateful that peace has been achieved, at least for the moment.

It brought me almost to tears, realizing how that special period of motherhood is so fully over for me. My kids are big now, there’s no more holding them and singing them to sleep.

Wednesday February 7th

*Me in the museum, in awe. Gouache on postcard*

The next day, I had the opportunity to spend some time in the museum alone. What a treat! I loved the main collection there! In particular, they had several Bonnard and Vuillard paintings that I had never seen before, not even in books. There were so many—SO MANY— stunning paintings, and I wish I could put all the photos I took in this blog post, but it would be sooooooo long and impractical. So, I’ve selected my favorite Bonnard, as well as a few favorite details of paintings just to give you a teasing glimpse:

*“The Dining Room” oil painting by Bonnard (photo from my phone)*

favorite painting details:

I was in the museum alone for many hours and did a lot of sketches:

*sketch of a Morandi painting, pencil on a postcard*

Kristen brought the kids to the museum after preschool was over, and we had lunch there in the cafe. Then Alice and Ada and I had the best time ever going up and down in the glass elevator. Seriously, it was so fun!

*We LOVE the glass elevator in the Virginia Museum of Fine Art!!*

I painted a postcard of my memory of the elevator rides:

*Me and Ada and Alice in the glass elevator at the museum, gouache on postcard*

That evening, to celebrate my final night in Richmond, Kristen and I went back to the museum (obviously.) There was live jazz playing, and we shared some wine and listened to the music, sketching together blissfully. Then we wandered around the museum until it closed (9 pm on Wednesdays!) and let ourselves get so wonderfully lost in the paintings. I recall spending a looooong time in front of this huge red painting by Ad Reinhardt.

*a painting by Ad Reinhardt… I think the title is “Red.” It’s quite large!*

*Me and Kristen in front of a Monet painting.*

After the museum closed, we wandered around in the warm evening air. We stayed up very late, talking about art, life, and more art. It was just the best!

Thursday February 8th

I caught a very early train the next morning. When I was on the train heading back north to Philadelphia, I painted a bunch of postcards with gouache, and I did a painting—from memory— of the Bonnard painting I loved so much. I didn’t look at the sketch I did or the photo I took, I just did it totally with memory, and it was so fun to do that! I feel like I caught something of the essence of my experience of Bonnard’s beautiful painting, in spirit if not in accuracy.

*Memory of a Bonnard painting, gouache on postcard*

I had so much fun doing the “memory painting,” that I did two more based on a Monet painting I had seen, a view of his wife scene through a doorway looking in from the garden.

Here is the original, in case you are interested.

When I finally got back home, I was exhausted but also elated. Thanks again to everyone who bought a postcard from me, and helped make my trip possible! I’m sure I’ll be slowly digesting all my experiences in the coming months; all the amazing art and inspiration will take some time to absorb. But I already have some exciting new ideas of things to paint! And I have a few things already started in the studio now…

The End

Art Adventure (part 3): The National Gallery

March 19, 2024

“I did make a sketch of a Mary Cassatt painting:“Girl With a Fan.” …Emma…sat next to me… We had so many deep talks as she sat beside me and I sketched…” — my diary, Feb. 4, 2024

*me sketching Mary Cassatt’s “Girl With a Fan”*
*Photo Credit: Emma Miniscalco*

This blog post is part of a series, although the parts are arranged more by emotional theme, rather than strictly chronological order. You may want to start with Art Adventure (part 1) and (part 2), but it’s not necessary.

Excerpts from my diary:

February 4, 2024

Now I’m back home in “my” little apartment…absolutely buzzing inside from all the wonderful art I saw today [in the National Gallery in D.C.]. It was just so much art! I think I was there four or five hours! Maybe longer? I mostly just looked, but I did make a sketch of a Mary Cassatt painting, “Girl With a Fan.” Mostly because it was in an uncrowded room with a convenient sofa. Emma [my friend of 20+ years] sat next to me… We had so many deep talks as she sat beside me and I sketched.

*“Can’t quite catch her pout” my sketch of a Mary Cassatt painting*

*detail of Mary Cassatt painting “Girl With a Fan”*

*me sketching “Girl With a Fan” gouache on a postcard*

My diary continued…

I can’t even go into words, the amount of art I saw: Da Vinci, Rembrandt, Vermeer, the impressionists…Corot…my head is spinning. Two very large a powerful paintings by Kerry James Marshall. I’ll go back tomorrow and sketch some more…Then tomorrow afternoon, I take the train to Richmond.

—my diary, Feb. 4, 2024

*detail of a painting by Kerry James Marshall*

I ended up spending two full days in the National Gallery in D.C. and I made many sketches. There was a painting by Monet that was so interesting and dark, it didn’t look much like his main body of work. I wouldn’t have guessed that it was his, so maybe it was something from earlier in his life? It was a painting of three people in a dark room, lit only by lamplight. Here is my sketch of it:

*pencil drawing of a Monet painting (one of my many postcards)*

I was also really drawn to this painting of three children and a dog.

Later, when I was making painted postcards about my trip, I painted my favorite detail of Johnson’s painting: the corner with a window view of a dreamy landscape.

*“Joshua Johnson’s window” my own painting inspired by his, gouache on a postcard*

I wrote on the back of the postcard two weeks later:

Feb. 23, 2024

Dearest Rachel, I can’t believe two weeks has gone by since I returned from my trip! I had such an AMAZING time! I feel like a sponge utterly FULL of water—can’t wait to get into the studio this morning—I have SO many juicy ideas! (Maybe we can have a phone date soon?) This painting is my “copy” of a righthand corner of a painting by Joshua Johnson, earliest known Black professional artist! This painting (a portrait of 3 children) was a commission in 1807.

I’m still thinking about this painting, even now. I wish I knew more about the artist, Joshua Johnson. What was his life like? Did he take every commission that came his way, or did he refuse some? Did these three kids pose like little angels, or were they moving around and being sassy while he was trying to paint them? What subjects did Joshua Johnson really love to paint, best of all? What was it like to be a Black artist at that time? How did he learn to paint? Did he have any other artist friends?

*“George Moore in the Artist’s Garden” by Manet*

Moving on, here’s another painting that really struck me. It’s a painting by Manet, 1879, called “George Moore in the Artist’s Garden.” I really love it. Such decisive, confident, efficient strokes. Dang! He left some canvas bare.

Why not? Nothing more is needed.

*My sketch of “George Moore in the Artist’s Garden” pencil sketch on a postcard, 6 x 4 inches*

Another painting that moved me: “The Seine” by Henry O. Tanner.

*“The Seine” Painting by Henry O. Tanner*

A few days later, I learned a little more about Tanner’s life. He was an absolutely incredible painter! He was born in Pittsburgh in 1891. However, as an African American artist, his career was hampered by racial prejudice. “I cannot fight prejudice and paint,” he announced before departing for Europe, where he enjoyed success in the Paris Salon.

His life seems so interesting. I’d like to learn more about him, and I’m hoping to get my hands on his autobiography, but so far I haven’t been able to find it. In the meantime, if you’re interested, here’s a link to some biographical information on the National Gallery of Art website.

“The Seine” Up-close Painting Detail by Henry O. Tanner

So, in conclusion, I had three wonderful days in D.C., in which I immersed myself in the glorious wealth of art in the National Gallery. Then on Monday afternoon, I took the train to Richmond, Virginia. So I’ll stop here, and continue the story of my art adventures in my next blog post. Thanks for following along!

Below: some more paintings, and details of paintings, that especially moved or interested me:

Continue in Art Adventure (part 4): Richmond

*“My sister Susie and her baby Nina, nine days old” sketchbook*

Art Adventure (part 2): Washington D.C.

March 12, 2024

On Friday, February 2nd, I drove down to my sister’s house in Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia. I got to meet my new niece, baby Nina, who was 9 days old! After a short visit with them, I left my car at their house and took the train to 30th Street Station, and then from there to Washington D.C., Union Station. Wow, what a gorgeous train station!

My friend Emma met me at Union Station, and together we walked a few blocks back to her house. Emma and I have been friends since we were freshmen at Bryn Mawr College in 1999. (So…over 23 years!) Then in our sophomore year, we both decided it wasn’t the right fit for us, and we transferred to different colleges near each other in Massachusetts. (I went to Hampshire and she went to UMass.) Emma and I are kindred spirits. She is a thoughtful poet who loves nature and solitude. Over the decades that followed our undergrad years, we nourished a deep friendship through old fashioned letter writing. I hadn’t seen Emma in person since the spring of 2018. I can remember the day that we walked through the National Mall six years ago, beneath glorious pink cherry blossoms. It was during that walk that Emma told me she was pregnant! And now, in February 2024, she has a 5-year-old daughter named Laurel.

When we got to Emma’s house, I was delighted to greet Emma’s partner Matt, and meet little Laurel for the first time. Laurel was absolutely enchanting. We played together and made lots of paper dolls. I drew a princess, a mermaid, an octopus, and a shark, which we colored in and cut out so they could go on adventures. Then we drew little worlds for them to play in: an ocean, a meadow, and a little house. Laurel showed me all her stuffed animals and was obliging enough to pose for me with them as I sketched.

*“Laurel and her stuffed animals” sketchbook*

I also sketched their elegant cat, Artemis.

I had forgotten how much energy a 5-year-old has! (My own kids are now 13 and 17 and it’s quite different.) So, I was pretty tired when I went to bed that night and I slept very well. Emma had a a good friend down the block who owned an air bnb apartment, and he let me stay there for free! I couldn’t believe my good fortune! (I left behind a small oil painting as a thank-you gift for his incredible generosity.)

It was so amazing to have a little apartment all to myself, just walking distance from the National Gallery! And there were so many interesting books in the apartment. (On the first night, I picked up a copy of A Lost Lady by Willa Cather and I read it during the three nights I stayed there. I love the way Willa Cather writes.)

The next morning after breakfast at Emma’s house, I brought out my gouache paints and Emma, Laurel, and I painted together at the kitchen table. I did a painting of the two of them painting.

*“Laurel and Emma, painting with gouache” postcard*

In the afternoon, Emma and I went on a wonderful long walk around Capitol Hill, looking at all the important government buildings. During our walk we got to talk and reconnect. So much had happened for us since we last saw each other, six years before, and we had so much to talk about. It was unseasonably warm for early February, and the sun felt good as we walked.

Emma convinced me to go inside the Library of Congress, and I’m so glad she did. It was incredible, all the art everywhere, mosaics and carvings and murals. I felt like I might break my neck with all the craning I did to look up at all the decorations.

As we walked back to Emma’s house afterwards, I felt light-headed and giddy, almost drunk with art. It was as if I had eaten a full banquet. Back in my apartment, I took a long nap and dreamed about art.

To Be Continued…

Art Adventure (part 3): The National Gallery

you may also want to read: Art Adventure (part 1): Train Reflections

*Emma and me, in the Library of Congress.*

*“Sketch of a mural I saw in the Library of Congress” postcard*

*“Memory of an owl mosaic at the Library of Congress” gouache on paper, postcard*

Mother and Child on a Winter Day

January 16, 2024

This is a painting of my friend Marybeth and her first baby, William, from 2018. (She is now pregnant with baby #3!) In reality, Marybeth is much more slender than I've painted her here, but I used my artistic license to exaggerate the size of the mother’s figure. I wanted to capture the feeling a baby has of being totally enveloped in the largeness of his mother’s love. To him, his mother feels as large as the Earth itself, holding him safely. She is his whole world.

Here are some more sketches of Marybeth and baby William:

And then, a few months later, William is walking! A new era has begun…

Further reading: Baby Sketches (drawings I did when my own kids were babies)

Sad Christmas Carols

December 20, 2023

“Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone...”

In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan
Earth stood hard as iron
Water like a stone

excerpt “In the Bleak Midwinter”

Song by Christina Rossetti and Gustav Holst

Even though Christmas is meant to be a joyful holiday, I often feel bleak, lonely, and overwhelmed. But I do like some of the music, and I enjoy playing the piano and singing. Music gives me permission to feel my feelings, even my saddest feelings, and I need that. So all month long, I have been singing Christmas carols in my studio and crying a bit while I make lots of small paintings (6 x 8 inches each) with India ink and white charcoal. Here are some paintings illustrating the parts of the songs that move me the most.

Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting light

excerpt “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem”

Song by Lewis Redner and Phillips Brooks

Bring a torch, Jeanette Isabella!

Bring a torch, to the cradle run!

excerpt “Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella”

music anonymous 17th century. French: Emile Blemont, English: E. Cuthbert Nunn

I played my best for Him.

excerpt “The Little Drummer Boy”

Song by Katherine Kennicott Davis

Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how
I can go no longer.

excerpt “Good King Wenceslas

Song by John Mason Neale and Thomas Helmore

In fields where they lay keeping their sheep
On a cold winter's night that was so deep

excerpt “The First Noel”

anonymous (traditional English carol)

“I,” said the dove, from the rafters high,
“I cooed Him to sleep that He should not cry,
we cooed Him to sleep, my mate and I…”

excerpt “The Friendly Beasts”

English words by Robert Davis, but the song may be quite old, 12th century France or maybe even older

The stars in the sky
Look down where He lay

excerpt “Away in a Manger”

lyrics anonymous, music versions by William J. Kirkpatrick and James Ramsey Murray

Dahlias and Time

December 13, 2023

“Painting is an act of consciously letting go.

Beholding. Responding. Releasing.”

Every autumn, my friend Katy brings me dahlias from the little farm up the road where she lives. For several years now, she brings me buckets and buckets of dahlias each week, as long as they are in bloom. The gorgeous blossoms fill my house with color. They are like bright jewels: glowing yellows, fiery oranges, deep reds. Sometimes I come home to find bouquets waiting for me on my front steps. Other days, Katy texts me and asks if I want to meet her in the field, so we can pick the dahlias together. I like those days especially, because then we can talk to each other about life, our struggles and hopes. We give each other support and encouragement.

The cyclical abundance of dahlias in my life naturally inspires a lot of paintings. Katy has told me that she loves to see all my dahlia paintings, and that she gets a vicarious sense of pride whenever I sell one of those paintings. And I love to paint them!

However, the thing about dahlias is that they demand to be painted now, and they won’t hang around until later, either. I must drop everything else I’m doing in order to try and capture these glorious bouquets. Otherwise, they fade away, and all I have is my memories. I guess this is true with many things in life. Maybe everything…

In her book How to Do Nothing, Jenny Odell writes “Hockney valued painting because of the medium’s relationship to time. According to him, an image contained the amount of time that went into making it, so that when someone looked at one of his paintings, they began to inhabit the physical, bodily time of its being painted.” I love this concept. It makes the act of painting into something magical.

I recently started writing a poem about my desire to capture time before it changes. Painting, and especially painting dahlias, is sort of like trying to paint my teenage children, to catch them in the act of growing up. Because my kids are growing at an incredible pace. I can almost observe them growing as I paint them. It’s wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time.

This obsession with painting my kids constantly, this feeling of desperate urgency…is it a deluded attempt to try and stop time? To try to hold my kids close to me forever?

Of course that can never be. And so, painting is an act of consciously letting go.

Beholding. Responding. Releasing.

*“Dahlias in a Mason Jar” oil on board, 12 x 9 inches*

*“Autumn Dahlias” oil on canvas mounted on board, 12 x 12 inches*

*“October Dahlias” oil on canvas, 10 x 8 inches*

*“Dahlias in a Blue Vase” oil on board, 12 x 12 inches*

*“Dahlias and Marigolds” oil on canvas mounted on board, 12 x 12 inches*

*“Katy’s Blue Vase” oil on board, 12 x 9 inches*

*“Family Arranging Flowers” oil on board, 16 x 20 inches*

Cry of a Lone Bird

November 9, 2023

“there in the darkness we listen…”

— poem excerpt by JD Wissler

*"Remembered Reflection" ink on paper 8.5 x 9.75 inches*

Poems and Paintings by JD Wissler

Cry of a Lone Bird

as we stand at the edge of light, there where the barn wall turns....

leaning together…peering into the void, we hear the sound.

a cry...in the dark (our eyes adjusting, we see edges of things)

cry of a lone bird....calling, no squawking...as if to find another...there in that unknown night landscape

(we would know it in the light of day....but not now, even though we recognize the dark mass of leafless tree)

there in the darkness we listen (mom and I) leaning...both listening

we are silent...the bird ...its squawking begins a rhythm..1-2-3 there.

There it is again. 1-2-3 again...

what is it...this bird...a lone hawk....crying....

(a night hawk, is there such a bird? a black crowned night heron....?)

the moments, adding up...unaware of how long we are standing there...we listen, we share

leaning into the dark at the edge of light...I shift...she looks.

we both turn, the gray flat surface of the driveway looks vast....she walks toward the house...a light in the window....her figure (small) moving slowly...looking in...looking at the house....

the lone cry becomes distant...the bird has moved away...mom does the same.

It is different now, these experiences....

Leaves, golden brown

leaves , golden brown.

air moves them

one falling into the meadow

our eyes (we three) follow the other

falling into the creek

the surface of the water is a crisp reflection of sky

we look at each other

eyes welling with tears, reflecting the same

the leaf comes to life as it rides just under the surface of the clear water

touching the billowing gray white cloud

the cloud

My father saw these things in this place

as a child

as an old man

he loved them

water, sky, leaves

water now carries him

a gray white cloud through the stream.... moving, ultimately to the ocean

we say these words....remembering

remembering his life

his love

moving

moving, like water

stream

through us (we three)

the sky is crisp

clear

beautiful

*diptych by JD Wissler, oil on canvas, 30 x 48 inches*

Rain

rain

hitting a window, which side of the house?

where is the wind coming from?

his feet are wet....

soap on the rag, his foot in my hand

washing

where is the rain hitting?

stop to listen

it...seems important

something we all should know

where the wind is

where the rain is

his feet

showing time

old, how long they have walked.

where have they walked?

rinsing them now

we stop

stop to reminisce

where have they walked...

his feet

toweling them dry now

carefully... between each toe

smiling as they tickle

I never knew

he was ticklish!

his feet!

in my hand

dad

in my hand

the rain is no longer hitting the window

we look to see

if it is over

the rain

no longer hitting the window

mom smiles

she is there

always there

she, he

rain

window

More poems by JD Wissler

Edge

Stars Make Their Own Space

Light of the Firefly

*"Silent Jazz" ink on paper 5.5 x 9.25 inches*

*work in progress: oil painting of my oldest child, Nell, age 16*

Teenagers

September 26, 2023

My kids are teenagers now, ages 13 and 16. They are back-to-school, with lots of needs and activities. It’s such a busy time for everyone: Ian is traveling a lot for work, and I’ve overextended myself by taking on too many commitments. (Probably why I’m sick now, in bed with a bad cold, forced to rest.)

Recently I have had lots of opportunities to sketch and paint my kids. The reason is, they want me to give them money. So…I’ve been paying them to pose for me! Win-win!

Taking time to draw my kids helps me slow down and appreciate this stage of parenthood. I feel really lucky to have these wonderful teenagers in my life.

*“Teenagers” charcoal on paper, 18 x 24 inches*

*“Nell, age 16” oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches*

*“Morgan, age 13” oil on canvas, 16 x 20 inches*

Summer Camp at the Banana Factory

August 31, 2023

This summer I taught art summer camp at the Banana Factory in Bethlehem, PA. I taught three weeks of camp in total: two weeks in June and one week in July. The kids were in the 4-9 year old age group and I had about 12 kids in each class.

It was a totally new experience for me! I hadn’t done this sort of teaching before, trying to lead art projects for a group of such young kids. To be honest, it was challenging and exhausting. But at the same time, it was also really fun and rewarding. I especially loved seeing the kids’ proud smiles when they held up their artwork to show me!

*A happy kid proudly holding up her beautiful drawing!*

I kept forgetting to ask the kids to write their names on their paper at the beginning of each project, so I ended up with a lot of art at the end that was unnamed and unclaimed. So, I can’t remember who made every piece, unfortunately.

I did take photos of some of my favorite pieces of art, mostly in the 12 x 16 inches range. Here they are:

*flowers and houses, painted paper collage*

*a beautiful collage of a bee (artist: Josie)*

*a beach scene, water color and oil pastel*

*a figure and some shapes, watercolor and collage*

Another fun thing I did with the kids was let them decoupage a bunch of empty tins I had saved. These tins used to hold tea or mints etc. We used glue and paper and buttons and feathers and various things we found to decorate the tins.

Inside the tins, some kids made little interior rooms for people. We made people out of clothespins and modeling clay, corks, or sometimes just a drawing of a person on paper, and then cut out.

*a little clothespin person in her fancy bedroom inside the tea tin*

*a little boy and his dog in a red room tea tin*

We also made little “worlds” by painting pieces of canvas green, and then making trees and bushes and animals etc. out of whatever we could find.

*a little green meadow with a stream and a circular pond*

Sometimes the kids got restless before the time was up. When things started to get rowdy, we would sit down on carpet squares and I would tell stories. I really like telling stories! I had forgotten how much I liked it, since my own kids are teenagers now, and it’s been such a long time since they have asked me to tell them a story. I know a whole bunch of fairytales, but my favorite type of story is the kind that I make up as I go along, with lots of magic and adventure.

Anyway, as I sit here looking back at my summer, I feel grateful for having had the opportunity to teach summer camp, and to tell some stories. The kids made such beautiful art, and I felt lucky to be part of that.

*“Memory of a Garden Party” (1) gouache on envelope*

After the Guests Depart

July 6, 2023

The moon shines bright on the scattered crumbs of cake,

the orange melon slices glow,

sweet jewels nestled in wet grass.

Fireflies weave in and out of the stars,

drunk on the smell of honeysuckles and wild roses

and, beneath it all,

the musky, damp river smells are rising

up from the earth

as she breathes

a sigh of relief.

I water the garden, slowly,

while you gather flowers.

The shadows of the trees embrace us.

a poem by Lauren Kindle

*“Memory of a Garden Party” (2) gouache on envelope*

*“Memory of a Garden Party” (3) gouache on envelope*

*“Memory of a Garden Party” (4) gouache on envelope*

More poems I have written:

Dreaming in Colors

The Painter and the Muse

Roman Moon (and other poems from Italy)

Garlic

My Son

Glutton Before Death

Envelope Art: a Gift

February 24, 2023

"...our gifts are not purely ours until they have been given away.”

—Lewis Hyde

I love to write hand-written letters. I have been an avid pen pal ever since I was a little girl, and I still have several wonderful pen pals in my life. Writing letters is an excellent way to stay connected with people, and to nurture deep friendships over a lifetime.

If I have the time, I also love to decorate the envelopes with little gouache paintings. I have been asked many times if I would consider selling these, but I always decline. It feels crucial to me that these envelope paintings remain always a gift, and only a gift. It is my way of creating for myself what Lewis Hyde describes as the “gift-sphere” in his book, The Gift:

“The artist who hopes to market work that is the realization of his gifts cannot begin with the market. He must create for himself that gift-sphere in which the work is made, and only when he knows the work to be the faithful realization of his gift should he turn to see if it has currency in that other economy.”

— Lewis Hyde

Lewis Hyde eloquently describes how the artist has to reconcile two economies, the market economy and the gift economy, the latter being the most important one. He writes:

"...unless we, the audience, can feel the gift it carries, there is no art."

—Lewis Hyde

My painted envelopes are gifts for the people who receive them. But they are also something that I do for myself. The act of letter-writing slows me down and brings me a sense of inner peace. It also facilitates my connection to my spirit, and to the source of my creativity. Painting envelopes gives me ideas for bigger paintings.

For some reason, the fact that the envelope is a gift makes me feel more free as an artist.

Lewis Hyde writes that “…to bestow one of our creations is the surest way to invoke the next…Bestowal creates that empty place into which new energy may flow.” I have certainly experienced this. When I paint envelopes, I can literally feel my spirit expand. I feel that I can paint whatever images emerge, and those images which come straight from the inner-spring of my heart.

“If you’re true to yourself, it’s a gift to the world.”

—Rotem Amizur

Listening to Birds

January 19, 2023

This painting was originally inspired by a Giotto fresco, Saint Francis Preaching to the Birds. A few years ago, I did several large monotypes based on the Giotto fresco. I wasn’t satisfied with the monotypes I made, so I set them aside. I never throw anything away; I will either paint over things, or cut them up to use as a collage, or recycle them in some other manner.

Anyway, a few years went by, during which I moved studios twice. Finally settled in my current studio, I took the “failed” monotypes out again. I continued to paint over this one, using my memory of the original Giotto fresco and also my imagination.

In the original fresco, there are two figures: Saint Francis with a halo, and another guy who looks like a rather grumpy monk. In my painting, the grumpy monk got transformed into a woman wearing vivid red. At first I thought she was Saint Clare, a friend and spiritual colleague of Saint Francis.

But as I spent time painting, I came to a different conclusion. The woman in red is not a saint. For one thing, she does not have a halo. In fact, I decided that the woman is me.

In my painting, I am watching Saint Francis and the birds have a special moment together. This time, Saint Francis does more listening than talking. He is listening to the wisdom of the birds.

I am also learning how to listen.

*“Listening to Birds” monotype and additional oil painting on primed paper, 12x9 inches*

*“Listening to Birds” (oil painting detail)*

another (smaller) painting in this series:

*“Birds, Listening”* color monotype with additional oil painting, 8.5x6.5 inches, oil on primed paper mounted to board

How to Make Art While Drowning

January 6, 2023

“I am allowed to be human.” — KC Davis

My friends Liv and Daniel gave me this great book for Christmas: How to Keep House While Drowning by KC Davis, LPC. It was so good! I recommend it highly. (I read it cover-to-cover in one day.) I would describe her philosophy as one of intentional self-compassion.

Although the author writes about keeping house (or “care tasks” as she calls them) I thought her basic ideas could apply to a lot of other things in life. In particular, they could apply very nicely to one’s art practice.

I have consolidated my notes from this book here, as well as my thoughts about them as relating to the artist path.

(I really wrote this blog post for myself, but I’m sharing it here in case it is helpful to others.)

*“Being Held” oil on canvas, 8x10 inches*

Be Kind to Yourself
You deserve kindness. (Everyone does.)
Practice Gentle Self-Talk. You are not a lazy failure. So stop saying that. Please.
Instead you can say: “I am a human being going through a hard time.” Or “I am doing my best.”
Be Kind to “Future You”
Sometimes you do a task you don’t really want to do, as an act of kindness to “Future You.” For example, packing my lunch the night before makes it possible for me to have a nutritious meal in my studio. Or, working on my business finances makes it possible for me to function as a business, thus sustaining my art practice in the real world.
Imperfection is Ok
“Imperfection is required for a good life.” — KC Davis
“I am allowed to be human.” — KC Davis
My studio schedule serves me, I do not serve it.
“Care Tasks”
Think of painting or making art as a “care task.” Even if making art is your real job, don’t think of it like homework, or some kind of difficult, tedious chore. Showing up in the studio and making art is a care task. You are taking care of at least three things:
- Yourself (by honoring your inner artist)
- Your Loved Ones (because you are grumpy when you don’t make art, and that affects others)
- the World (because you are making it more beautiful.)
Cleaning can be called “re-setting the space.” Puttering around my studio is part of caring for my space.
Gentle Motivation

Momentum builds motivation. It’s great to have momentum! But sometimes life gets in the way and you lose your momentum. Then you need an “on-ramp” back into your momentum. Some ideas I had:
- “I’ll just mix two colors together.”
- “I’ll just do one quick pencil sketch.”
- “I’ll just go sit in my studio and look at art books.”
Productivity does not have Moral Value
You are worthy of love and compassion whether you are producing great art or not. You don’t have to be productive to be worthy of kindness.
Work is not moral. You aren’t a good person when you are making good work, nor are you a bad person when your work isn’t turning out well. The work has no morality in and of itself.
Kindness to Others

Painting (for me) involves observing beauty and then showing it to others. Therefore it is an act of kindness, of compassion, for the world.

*photo credit: Jillian Paige Photography*

Mount Gretna School of Art (Part 2)

December 20, 2022

“I see a shape. I like it. I draw it.” — Maria Michurina

“Favorite Shapes” painted paper collage, 3x3 inches (inspired by what I learned from Maria Michurina in particular)

Over a month has passed since I returned home from my artist residency workshop at Mount Gretna School of the Art. I had intended to write about my experience sooner, but life got so busy! Now, as I re-read my diary from that time, memories get stirred up. This blog post is my attempt to remember it all, and to set it in my heart. Perhaps it will prove helpful or interesting to you, too!

The workshop at Mount Gretna was led by instructor Ken Kewley. It was two weeks long in total, but the two weeks were divided into two one-week sessions. The sessions were separated by a period of about six weeks in between, during which we could work on what we learned. I already wrote about my first week here: Artist Residency at Mount Gretna School of Art (part 1).

Below is one of the collages I created during the interim between the sessions. I was playing with the composition I found in El Greco’s “Purification of the Temple.”

*“The Purification of the Temple,” after El Greco” painted paper collage, 5.25 x 7 inches*

*“The Purification of the Temple” painting by El Greco*

Week 2 of the artist residency-workshop began on Sunday, October 30th. My cottage was the same as before. And just as before, I shared the cottage with two other artists: Natasha and Sheri. By this time, I felt like the three of us had become close friends. I really enjoyed sharing a cottage with them, cooking meals together, and staying up late talking about art and life.

*Me, Natasha, and Sheri: a late-night selfie!*

Monday October 31st “Monday morning! Having my coffee. Sheri and Natasha are chatting nearby. The three of us stayed up very late last night (eleven!) and I was so excited and had trouble falling asleep. Looking at a Cezanne book now.” —my diary

On the first day, we worked on the same set of 9 collages from 9 am to 5 pm. There were eight students in total, and we all worked quietly and industriously. It felt sort of like meditation. Everytime we finished a series, Ken would scan them, print out the scanned versions, and hand those back to us. Then we would collage over them all over again. And again, and again. One of the main points of this exercise was to be very intentional about where we placed each shape. For some reason, this was more challenging for me than just doing “whatever.” Anyway, it was a full day, and I felt pretty exhausted by dinnertime.

Here are my notes from this day:

Be very aware of the shape, what it is touching.
Be aware of ALL the shapes.
Make sure you LIKE all the unexpected shapes you create. If not, deal with them.

“If you have no destination, you can’t get lost.”

—Ken Kewley

On Tuesday, we had a real treat. The guest artist arrived, and it was Maria Michurina. She had a fun day planned for us. First we each made a little handmade book with blank pages. Then she had us go outside and walk around in the landscape, drawing all the shapes we liked best. We drew with thick, dark 8B pencils. On each page, we put in a simple, enclosed rectangle before we started drawing shapes. Maria told us that the rectangle on the page was like a sock drawer, and each shape was like a funny little sock. We were trying to organize the “socks” within the drawer.

Here are two of my “sock drawers”:

“I see a shape.

I like it.

I draw it.”

—-Maria Michurina

Then we each picked two of our favorite shapes and played around with them, in a series of small collages. We were limited to six colors each. At the end of the day, we made cute little boxes to keep our art and books in. We decorated our boxes with colored paper.

Here are the different assignments Maria gave us, and two of my collages from these assignments:

*Maria’s assignments, things to do with our favorite shapes.*

“The color picked first is the right color.

However, it will be changed.”

—Maria Michurina

“When you work from life,

you see a shape, you make that shape,

you place it where it feels good.”

—Maria Michurina

Maria Michurina gave two artist talks on two separate evenings. Here are some of my notes from her talks:

There is freedom for the viewer to make up a story.
Visual versus verbal stories (they are different)
The shapes tell their own stories.
“The painting is good because he found something he didn’t know.” —M.M., referring to Laocoön by El Greco)
One shape at a time.

The following day, Wednesday, we had a live model. We did a series of collages from her in the same pose, from different angles. Some notes from this day:

“You can make the dark light and the light dark. You can even switch midstream if you want.” — Ken Kewley
Think of the collage as if you were talking with your hands, describing: “This is here. This is here.” etc.

My collages of the model:

We also built sculptures of the model out of cardboard, tape, and paint. Then we worked from our sculptures after the model left.

Stanley Lewis

That same evening, we had the amazing opportunity to hear the renowned artist Stanley Lewis give a talk!

Here are some of my notes from that talk:

the world is warping as you paint
use a knife to cut lines and flowers out of the paper, then glue white paper behind it (for white in a drawing, rather than erasing)
Everything has to relate to everything.
Try to do small paintings of your bigger paintings.
Look at a picture, such as a Bruegel picture, for two minutes a day.

Below is a painting by Stanley Lewis:

*“Looking up at the House", 2019” painting by Stanley Lewis, tempera and acrylic on paper, 33x40 inches*

Now here is my own collage of the preceding Stanley Lewis painting that I did on Friday of that week:

“I’m exactly like a student.”

— Stanley Lewis

Another fun assignment towards the end of the week was working with a partner, whoever we sat next to. Without peeking at what our neighbor was doing, we cut shapes out of our paper, and handed them over. Our neighbor then had to use whatever shape (and color) that we gave them to make a collage of their own. In exchange, we would get one of their shapes to collage with, so it was a collaborative effort.

It was fun getting colors and shapes that were out of my control, and trying to work with what I was given. My parter was Garrett Moore, and I really enjoyed using his colors. At least four or five times, we handed each other almost the exactly same shape and/or color! It was such an incredible coincidence, it made us wonder if there was something supernatural happening.

Here is the collage I ended up making with the colors and shapes Garrett handed to me.

*“Duet with Garrett” painted paper collage, 3x3 inches*

Towards the end of the week, we did a series of black and white and gray collages of movie stills. This is my favorite one that I made:

*“Sorry Wrong Number” painted paper collage, 2x2 inches*

On Thursday afternoon, Ken encouraged us to wander around Mount Gretna and make sketches that we would use the next day in collages, using what we had learned during the week.

*Sketching outside at Mount Gretna, looking for favorite shapes!*

*“Cat with green eyes” painted paper collage, 3x3 inches*

*“Shadows on a Wall” painted paper collage, 3x3 inches*

*Last class day, Friday, looking at each other’s work.*

*A few of us after dinner on Friday night, the last official group dinner: Garrett, me, Sheri and Natasha.*
*(Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get a photo of all eight of us.)*

Although most people left Friday or early Saturday, I stayed until Sunday afternoon, just enjoying the peace and quiet. Natasha and Ken were there too, so we were able to have some pleasant meals and conversations together and reflect on the week.

November 6th (my diary)

“Sunday morning, raining steadily outside the cottage. Today we go home.

Most people have already left. I’ll clean up the cottage this morning and pack.

The rain drums steadily on the porch roof—the door is open to the porch, letting in the fresh air and smells of wet autumn leaf decay, of change. Yesterday, Natasha and I went on a glorious autumn hike in the surrounding woods, which still displays some colors, reds and oranges against the blue sky. The golden sunlight came down. We talked about deep personal issues, and the need to love and take care of oneself…

I’m sad to be leaving this place. ”

*“Figs on a plate” painted paper collage, 6x6 inches, using techniques I learned from Ken Kewley’s workshop*

So there it is. I feel like I have given my best effort to describe my time at Mount Gretna School of Art. I have given you a little taste of a week that was so rich and full and wonderful that it could have filled hundreds of pages!

“The heart, love in its delicate gentleness,

is still the best and only guide.”

—Odilon Redon, quoted during Maria’s talk

Further Reading: Artist Residency at Mount Gretna School of Art (week 1)

*walking back to my cottage from the classroom*

Artist Residency at Mount Gretna School of Art

October 26, 2022

I recently had the wonderful opportunity to go to the Mount Gretna School of Art for the Fall Interval artist residency program. This program is two weeks long, but the weeks are spread out with over a month in between. The first week was September 18th-23. I will return for my second week this coming Sunday, in only four days!

In the weeks since I was last at Mount Gretna, I have been trying to process the experience. It was such a rich and full week that it feels impossible to distill it into a blog post. But I’ll try my best to at least give you a glimpse.

On Sunday, September 18th, I packed my bags and drove out to Mount Gretna, PA, a rural town about 40 minutes north of Lancaster, and less than two hours south-west from my home in Easton, PA.

When I arrived at my cottage in the early afternoon, it was empty. I was the first one to arrive. I went in, and found the bedroom with my name on it. It was called the “Chagall” room which felt like a good omen, because Chagall is my favorite artist. I immediately loved my room and the quaint cottage. It was so full of tempting art books and beautiful original paintings left behind by students from residencies past.

*settled into the Chagall room with my teddy bear on my pillow—she comes with me when I travel alone*

I had some time on my hands, so I walked around to explore the funny little village of Mount Gretna. I was surprised to discover such a unique place. It was adorable, shabby, cozy, woodsy, and intriguing. There were lots of little pathways weaving in and out through dozens and dozens of quaint little gingerbread-type houses. There were gardens filled with gnomes and fairy tea parties and wind chimes and statues and funny little signs. I was delighted by everything I discovered, and almost felt like I had landed in some other world.

*walking through the little village of Mount Gretna*

Later that afternoon, I met my two wonderful housemates, Sheri and Natasha. They were both very warm and friendly people. Others started to arrive. In total, we were nine artists at Mount Gretna School of Art, spread out amongst a few different cottages within walking distance of each other.

That evening we all gathered on the deck of the community building for a delicious meal of vegetable soup. I was nervous to meet a bunch of new people, but everyone was very kind, and I soon felt right at home. I had a hard time sleeping at night; I woke up several times out of sheer excitement.

The next day we met at 9 am in the community building. Thus began a very full week of art-making, learning, and playing. We worked on our art from 9am to 5 pm every day, with communal dinners, art talks, and presentations in the evenings.

The community building that we used as a classroom space was spacious and reminded me of a pavilion. There were tall windows open floor to ceiling all around the building. The sunlight and beautiful autumn colors seemed to fall right into the building, and the wind blew all around. The instructor, Ken Kewley, asked us not to talk excessively or have conversations, so we worked in silence. We followed different instructions for a series of art exercises involving pens, paper, glue, paint and scissors. At first, I was unused to so much quiet, but after I got into the flow, it became like a meditation.

*Our classroom had a piano (on the left) and I came early most mornings to play the piano, which helped me relax and feel grounded.*

We started out by painting paper. We painted countless sheets of paper (regular computer printer paper) each with a different color we mixed. We could mix any color we desired. I mostly used full body Golden Acrylic paints.

It was blissful to get lost in the process of painting colors and suddenly look up and realize that hours had gone by. But it was exhausting and overwhelming too! That night, and every night, I had dreams about colors and I would wake up in the middle of the night out of pure excitement. I wrote a poem about it: Dreaming in Colors.

*some of my painted papers, spread out to dry on the floor*

We did so many different exercises that involved filling up squares with different compositions. Each exercise built upon the one before. One of my favorties was this:

Fill square with base color (I used gray)
Three shapes of one color (I used green)
Three shapes of base color (back to gray)
Three shapes of same step 2 color
Back and forth between step 2&3
(there was a timer, 15 minutes I think, so we had to just keep going back and forth until the timer rang.)
Here is my collage from that exercise, using two colors back and forth.

Another fun thing we did was work on each other’s painting. Ken distributed a piece of paper with small black-and-white reproductions of all our paintings, one painting per student. (Mine is the top center.) Then we had to play around with collage, responding to each one, using gray, black, and white.

I learned so much having to simplify these paintings into colors and shapes. It was also incredibly valuable to see all the other artists’ versions of my own painting. It made me think about the possibilities of my painting in ways I never would have considered before!

*student paintings (reproduced small in black and white)*

*My collage versions of the student paintings.*

We also did exercises working with our own paintings in color. Below you can see three of my oil paintings, which I had submitted via email before the residency. Below each one, I made a collage of the painting, simplifying each one into five colors. We were allowed to make small modifications to the original image and play around a little, so it wasn’t an exact reproduction. To me it felt like having a conversation with the painting. The painting could “talk” to me, and it could tell me different ways that it wanted to be, different possibilities.

I got so much out of doing this! It was very liberating, fun, and useful. Going forward in my studio practice, if I find myself stuck on a painting, I will definitely do some collages of the painting and see what comes of it.

*Three of my oil paintings with corresponding collages beneath them.*

This is the only photo I have of myself at my work station. I love it because I was so happy and I was laughing so hard when my artist friend Judy took the photo. The seltzer cans are part of a silly inside joke…you had to be there.

Another fun thing we did sometime during the week was built little “stage sets” out of cardboard, tape, and paint. The sets were representations of our painting worlds.

*Here is my artist friend (and housemate)* *Natasha, hard at work on her “stage set.”*

*This is my onw “stage set,” built out of cardboard, tape, and paint*

After we made our cardboard stage sets, we did little collages of them, turning them to different angles. That really was cool, because you can’t do that with a two-dimensional painting! We did collages in black and white first, then later in color.

*This is my favorite collage that I did from that exercise. I was responding to my friend Aleeza’s “stage set.” It is 2x2 inches.*
*Below are three collages I made of my own “stage set.”*

Around the middle of the week, we were visited by the Israeli artist, Rotem Amizur. She was the guest teacher for the day. She had us to paint our papers with two layers of color, rather than one. Ideally, the colors were to be two “opposites.” For example a cool light color over top a warm dark color.

One thing that stands out to me is Rotem’s advice to think about colors in “pairs.” We spent a lot of time putting two colors side by side to see if they were the right pair.

“The right pair is magic,” Rotem said. “You should have a sense of place just from the color pairs.”

*We worked outdoors with collage, using pins on a foam board to move shapes around.*

*“Mount Gretna Landscape” painted paper collage, 8 1/2 x 10 7/8 inches*

“Green sun, pink sky” painted paper collage, 5 3/8ths x 8 1/2 inches

We did a lot more during the week than I feel is realistic to describe here. When the lass class finally ended Friday evening, I was exhausted by happy, as if I had eaten a very, very full meal that I needed to digest. Even though the other artists left Friday night or early Saturday morning, I stayed through the weekend, resting and trying to process everything I had learned. I also enjoyed some quiet time in my cottage and walking around in nature. I finally got to read some of those art books and reflect on what I had learned.

I wrote in my journal that weekend:

Sept. 23, 2022: “It has been such a week! My head is spinning with colors as I fall asleep, beautiful sheets of painted paper. Some colors are so exciting, it’s hard to fall asleep. Even in my dreams, I am making collages, cutting and pasting color shapes. My fingertips are rough with dried glue. Every morning I wake up early. It’s too exciting to sleep!”

I am very excited to go back for week two! I hope to write about it here when I return.

*“Invented Landscape” painted paper collage, 3x4 inches*

All of the collages in this blog post are my own original work. These and other collages from the artist residency are available for sale, and I can have them framed upon request. Pricing varies. Please email me for more details: lauren@laurenkindle.com

Dreaming in Colors

October 14, 2022

a poem

Every night I close my eyes,

And someone places a sheet of painted paper behind my eyelids,

One color after another:

Misty blue, forest green,

Purple-gray, and burning red…

The colors saturate my dreams.

I am too excited to sleep.

The windows are open from floor to ceiling,

And the wind blows all around, like the ocean.

We are monks on an island, not speaking,

Bent over in our devotional task.

Painting, cutting, and gluing.

Only the sunlight visits us.

I thought everyone dreamed in colors?

poem by Lauren Kindle, October 2022

Further Reading: Artist Resdiency at the Mount Gretna School of Art

Envelope Art: Cats

September 10, 2022

“The most valuable thing we can do for the psyche, occasionally, is to let it rest, wander, live in the changing light of a room, not try to be or do anything whatever.”

—May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

I love my cats. They are always lying around in beautiful poses, waiting to be drawn. They are not productive, nor do they seem stressed, ever. Sometimes I think they are teaching an ongoing Master Class in How-to-Rest.

I also love to write letters. It brings me a sense of serenity to sit on a Saturday morning, pen in hand, and conjure up a far away friend in my mind’s eye. After I have written, if I have time, I sometimes paint the envelope, turning the whole message into a small gift of love.