Chawne Kimber: Quilt Artist

May 3, 2017

"It has to be timeless."

--Chawne Kimber

May 2017 Artist Profile in the Easton Irregular

“In Essence, I Am A Sophisticated Cotton Picker.”

These words are sewn in large block letters across the bottom of the super-colorful quilt, “Cotton Sophisticate”, created by Easton quilt artist, Chawne Kimber. The quotation comes from Eartha Kitt’s autobiography—a summation of her life growing up in south Georgia. Kimber’s own southern roots influence the quilts she makes. “All of my work in cotton is a call-back to my ancestry in slavery,” Kimber says. “Through the cultivation of cotton in rural Alabama, some of my ancestors (unwillingly) participated in the building of the United States,” Kimber writes in her artist statement. “Cotton has been central in the lives of the women of my family—from picking to ginning to sewing, with quilting emerging as the main mode of self-expression available.”

Like many of Kimber’s quilts, “Cotton Sophisticate” interprets traditional quilting forms in a fresh, improvisational style. It is united by color, full of life, and thought provoking. Kimber wants the viewer to think about how cotton is manufactured today, mostly under terrible working conditions. When making “Cotton Sophisticate”, Kimber actively chose to use US-made fabric, where there is some guarantee of fair labor conditions.

“Almost everything I do is in reaction to something going on in the world or in my life,” Kimber remarks. Sometimes she uses the medium to respond to current race-related social justice issues, such as “The One for Eric G”. This quilt is mostly black, constructed of various black-patterned fabrics, with the words “I can’t breathe” sewn in large block letters down its length. Those were the last words of Eric Garner, the African American man who was killed by a police officer in 2014 after being put in a chokehold. “I can’t breathe” has since become a chilling slogan, protesting the deaths of many unarmed African Americans.

Responding to social issues is crucial, but Kimber stresses the importance of working slowly. Responding too quickly to an incident can result in appropriation. “It has to be timeless,” she insists. “What are the things that can be separated from a moment in time?” Of course, the requirements of making a quilt naturally impose this slowness, as a typical quilt can take about two years to complete!

“Autumn Is Wistful” is a more personal quilt than some. This quilt is an example of a technique preceding an idea. Reverse appliqué is a technique that involves cutting away at a fabric to reveal a shape appliquéd underneath. In this case, the shapes are words that form a sort of wistful poem, an ode to an idyllic memory of the South, which cannot be retrieved—

“...and I want the sweet glances and I want the sun on my face and I want the grass on my skin…”

Sadly, along with all those comforting things described in the quilt, there is a close-mindedness and intolerance in the culture of the South that keeps it forever unattainable. At least, that is the experience of Autumn, Kimber’s transgendered friend who finds that she cannot return to the home of her childhood and be accepted for who she is.

When you look at many of Kimber’s quilts, you see some “self portraits”, and they can be brutal, often incorporating an insulting or upsetting word, such as bitch. “I’m giving you who I think you think I am,” Kimber explains. In a sense, she takes away the power of the insult by claiming it first, and stitching it into her quilt. “My intent is to start a conversation,” Kimber adds. “What are you willing to engage in when looking at a piece of art?”

Chawne Kimber’s quilts are powerful. They can start uncomfortable conversations, challenge stereotypes, and question social norms. You might even find yourself wondering what exactly is the nature of a quilt, anyway? But Kimber insists that, despite everything, her quilts are still utilitarian.

“They’re warm,” she says, with a mischievous smile.

You can see more quilts on Kimber’s blog, “Completely Cauchy.” Cauchycomplete.wordpress.com

Coming soon:

In Tall Cotton: Expressions of My Self, a show featuring some of Chawne Kimber’s quilts, will take place over the Memorial Day Weekend at Lauren Kindle Studio: 7 N. Bank Street, Easton, PA. Opening reception will be Friday, May 26 from 6-8pm, in conjunction with the new Easton Fourth Friday event: Easton Out Loud. Hours to view the show Saturday, May 27 thru Monday, May 29 are 10am-3pm. Visit laurenkindle.com for more information.

Coming soon:

“In Tall Cotton,: Expressions of My Self” a show featuring some of Chawne Kimber’s quilts. They will be on display over the Memorial Day Weekend at Lauren Kindle Studio: 7 N. Bank Street, Easton PA. Opening reception will be Friday May 26, 6-8 pm, in conjunction with “Easton Fourth Friday.” The Studio-Gallery will be open to the public 10-3 Saturday 27-Monday 29th. www.laurenkindle.com

Baby Sketches

April 26, 2017

"Heaven lies about us in our infancy!"

--William Wordsworth

Today I was going through an old sketchbook of drawings I did when my children were babies. I remember sitting blissfully on the couch for hours, content to have a pencil and sketchbook at hand while my baby slept on my lap. Of course, there are more drawings of Nell, because she is the oldest. When Morgan was a baby, I also had an energetic three-year-old watching me draw! But I'm still surprised at the quantity of drawings I made back then, and of course, deeply moved by these precious memories. When I look at these drawings, I can't believe my children have grown so much! It really does feel as if life is too short, and the passage of time far too relentless. Sketching is one small way to hold onto a moment and keep it forever.

note: This is definitely dated incorrectly in the sketch.  She didn't have curls in 2007.  I think I just forgot the year changed to 2008. — note: This is definitely dated incorrectly in the sketch. She didn't have curls in 2007. I think I just forgot the year changed to 2008.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:

The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,

Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar:

Not in entire forgetfulness,

And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home:

Heaven lies about us in our infancy!

--William Wordsworth

Intimations of Immortality

excerpt

The Lady, or the Tiger?

April 19, 2017

"...with all the intensity of the savage blood transmitted to her through long lines of wholly barbaric ancestors..."

--The Lady, or the Tiger? a short story by Frank R. Stockton

For the past year, I have been dreaming about tigers. Or perhaps it's only one tiger, the same one that comes into each dream...? As a result, I've been cultivating a painting in my mind, or perhaps a series of paintings. Using Pinterest, I have been collecting other artists' work that strikes me as touching the spirit of my dreams. At some point, I realized I was going to have to do a self-portrait, possibly because I had such a strong resistance towards the idea, as described in "Intersections," my collaborative art project with fellow artist, Kate Brandes.

My resistance was so strong, it had to be explored. I looked at a lot of self portraits by Julie Heffernan. I found them to be brave: not only were they nudes, but there was a deeper nakedness going on here, a nakedness of the soul, of the rich, complex jungle of a woman's heart. "Self Portrait as a Bird Feeder" was the one I kept returning to.

"Self Portrait as Bird Feeder," oil painting by Julie Heffernan

I also kept thinking about jungles, especially the fantastical, made-up jungles of Henri Rousseau, and the dreamy lush gardens of ancient Roman frescoes.

Fresco Painted Garden Villa of Livia Palazzo Italy

The tiger wasn't a real tiger, either, but something made up from stories and imagination, and converted into dream-essence. Again, I used Rousseau as an inspiration, but even more, I felt drawn to these old Korean paintings from hundreds of years ago.

fantastical Korean tiger painting (possibly 17th century?)  More images can be found on my Pinterest board: "Ideas for Tiger Painting." — fantastical Korean tiger painting (possibly 17th century?) More images can be found on my Pinterest board: "Ideas for Tiger Painting."

Finally, a few weeks ago, I started my self portrait. I locked the door of my studio and put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on it. I finished it two days ago, and I'm pleased with the result, even though it has a lot of shortcomings, and it's a pretty clumsy attempt at manifesting the vision in my mind. But, it's where I am at the moment, and it makes me feel powerful and fierce.

"The Lady, or The Tiger?" oil on canvas, 18x24"

I named my painting after the famous short story we all had to read in middle school. Although I don't find the writing to be particularly good, the haunting cliffhanger at the end of the story has remained with me all my life. What was behind the door that the young man opened? Was it the lady, or the tiger? And are they really so different? Is one better, or worse, than the other?

All I know is that the tiger is a part of me, alive and well in the jungles of my dreams.

Finding Alignment

April 12, 2017

"Sometimes I'm homesick for that one time in that one place in Easton when I felt beautiful and known."

--Rachel Engh

A guest blog post by Easton artist and friend, Rachel Engh!

I made some art. It's about trying to find alignment.

Guys, the only reason I'm writing this is because my friend, Lauren (totally talented painter and artist and mom), is going to write about me and I thought I needed to write about me first. Well, okay, she's actually going to write about some art that I've been making.

Note from Lauren: Actually, Rachel's style of writing is perfect. I'm going to let her writing stand, with a little of my own italicized commentary.

Another Note from Lauren: My friend Rachel and I  have a lot of fun looking at art together.  This is one of my favorite photos (credit: Ray DiCecco) of Rachel and me looking at art during a Tiffany Calvert show at Brick and Mortar Gallery… — Another Note from Lauren: My friend Rachel and I have **a lot** of fun looking at art together. This is one of my favorite photos (credit: Ray DiCecco) of Rachel and me looking at art during a Tiffany Calvert show at Brick and Mortar Gallery last May.

(back to Rachel)

Here's the story:

Several months ago the Arts Community of Easton was looking for space downtown for artists to show their work for the annual Arts Tour. My office (Metris Arts Consulting in the Karl Stirner Arts Building at 230 Ferry Street, Easton) is downtown so we offered up our wall space. Turns out, not enough artists came forward for the spaces so when I ran into Marya, the organizer, outside the Post Office, she asked if I was an artist. It took me a long time to say "yes, kind of." Then she asked me about my medium.

"I glue stuff on paper."

"Then you do mixed media."

detail of "Island Bangles" collage by Rachel Engh

Ok, so remember how this was months ago? One of the reasons I said yes was because I thought this deadline would actually motivate me to get the things swimming inside my head out of my head. Well, the Art Tour is a week and a half away and I will proudly say that I have indeed pasted some stuff on paper. It might not be good but it feels good to dust off the ol' scissors and glue.

What is this art about? Well, for a long time I was telling myself I needed to make art in order to try and make sense of, or work though, a set of confusing moments. The problem, through, was that I had an idea for the what the finished product would look like but the ideas never left my head. I was putting too much pressure on trying to move through these confusing moments with an end already envisioned.

I should have remembered that the process is the art. So, anyway, my wise friend Lauren, helped me realize that my art is about me, more so than the confusing moments in and of themselves, which was a freeing realization.

So, yes, I've been thinking about home and my search for comfort (and home) here in Easton. But, I also know that as I'm searching for comfort, feeling discomfort means that I'm learning, right? Sometimes learning (and growing!) is uncomfortable.

I think more than comfort, I'm searching for alignment. A search for alignment of what my heart says it wants and what my head knows is true. Or what my head says it wants and what my heart knows is true. I also feel like my heart sometimes lately wants to be in a different place than where it physically is. I mean, sometimes I'm homesick for Minneapolis -- my family and friends, the bike trails and drivers who stop for pedestrians.

Sometimes I'm homesick for that one time in that one place in Easton when I felt beautiful and known.

I made these things and now perhaps I think they're about aligning the heart (heart beats) with the outside world (animals).... Or maybe not, maybe I just liked how they looked together.

I'm also interested by the German word "fernweh," which means, I think, feeling homesick for a place one has never been to before.

I cut up an old atlas into bathtub shapes. It's called:

Bathing Off the Coasts of Places I've Never Been To.

"Bathing off the coast of places I've never been to" collage by Rachel Engh

Ok, well, stay tuned for more. Or just show up in Easton on April 22 and 23 to say "hi."

Note from Lauren: My studio will also be open that weekend! It's possible to see both of us in the same day!

Published! (Introducing Myself as a Writer)

April 5, 2017

My first artist profile as a staff writer for the Irregular is in print today! You can find copies of the Easton Irregular all around Easton, for example in the foyer outside my studio and the Easton Public Market. For those of you who can't get a hard copy, I am publishing this article here on my blog. I also made it my new Bio.

"Suddenly a veil was torn away. My destiny as a painter opened up to me." -Monet

I am overjoyed to introduce myself as the new writer for this “Artist Profile” column. I accepted the position with great enthusiasm because I love to write and I am also an artist myself. Those two parts of my spirit seem to feed off each other and are inseparable. I write a weekly blog every Wednesday morning that includes, among other things, essays, short stories, and poems about art (www.laurenkindle.com/blog). I also paint full-time in my new studio in downtown Easton at 7B North Bank Street, when my children (ages 7 and 10) are in school. I just signed the lease for my studio in August, so it still feels like a brand-new adventure!

My kids and me hanging out on the front steps of my new studio, photo credit: EH photography.

I moved to Easton ten years ago, and for a long time I was completely preoccupied with raising a family and being a stay-at-home mom. Although I was always creative, I didn’t consider myself a Serious Artist, and I was unsure about what I wanted to do with my life. Then, in July of 2014, I had what I can only describe as an artistic awakening. Almost overnight, I was overtaken with a fierce, burning desire to paint, and I knew I just had to be an artist. It was just like there was a blazing fire inside of my body, terrifying and exciting at the same time.

I was desperate to learn everything I could about art. Thanks to a tremendous amount of understanding and support from my family, I was able to take some private painting classes and workshops, and a few courses at the Baum School of Art in Allentown. And of course, I soon realized that painting itself is the best teacher. I am so lucky to live in Easton, which is such a fantastic place to be an artist. The energy is great; you can just feel that the city loves artists! The art community is so supportive, and I’m grateful to the seasoned artists who have helped me by giving me encouragement and guidance.

"She found herself in the kitchen again, alone and quite small..." oil on canvas, 8x10"

I paint mainly in oils, which are just so luscious and satisfying, and I find inspiration in the world around me: in my family members and community, the local architecture and landscape, the objects that surround me in my daily life, other artists’ work, and even my own dreams and fantasies. A lot of my work, mainly my still lifes, can be described as chiaroscuro, an oil painting technique developed during the Renaissance which uses strong tonal contrasts and has a very dramatic lighting effect. When I paint this way, I have a lot of fun and I feel like a magician performing a trick. Caravaggio, Rembrandt and Artemisia Gentileschi are some of my chiaroscuro influences.

A portrait of my son, "Morgan," oil on canvas mounted on board, 11x14"

I also do quite a bit of plein air landscape painting, which is painting out-of-doors. I go about these paintings much differently from my chiaroscuro work. They are more free and painterly and I use a brighter, more colorful palette. With the landscapes, I’m able to express something inside of myself that I can’t do any other way. I benefited a great deal from taking some local plein air workshops, which I describe in greater detail in my blog. My landscape-painter idols include Corot, Yael Scalia and Stuart Shils.

However, in reality, I adore many different kinds of painting, and I am smitten with many, many different artists. (Just read my blog or follow me on Pinterest if you are curious.) I really haven’t been painting seriously for very long and I’m not ready to chain myself down to any one way of painting just yet. When I try out certain methods or techniques, I try to do so from a place of joy and curiosity. I feel like a student in the best sense, delighted to play and learn new things. I’m sure that I can continue to grow as an artist for as long as I live. To quote my artist statement from my solo show last spring:

“I am filled with eagerness for the artist's life that stretches out before me.”

I’m grateful for this opportunity to share my love of art and artists with the readers of the Easton Irregular. I really look forward to writing these articles. Enjoy!

"Irises and Apricots" oil on canvas mounted on board, 11x14" from the collection of Rachel Engh

You can meet Lauren and see her work up close along with several other area artists this month on the Art Community of Easton’s 19th Annual ACE Art Tour, Saturday & Sunday, April 22 & 23 from 11 am to 5 pm both days. Lauren’s Studio is located at 7B North Bank Street. To contact Lauren, call 267-247-6364, email lauren@laurenkindle.com or visit her online at www.laurenkindle.com. She can also be found on various social networking platforms: Instagram - @lauren_kindle, Facebook - kindlearts, Pinterest - laurenjkindle, and Twitter - @KindleArts.

Writing and Art

March 29, 2017

"He is an explorer feeling his way in an effort to reveal some unknown aspect of existence.

He is fascinated not by his voice but by a form he is seeking..."

--Milan Kundera, The Art of the Novel

"Still Life With Book" painting by Richard Diebenkorn

Many of you already know that I recently accepted a job as a writer for the monthly "Artist Profile" column of my local newspaper, the Easton Irregular. This free newspaper can be found around town at many community locations, including my new studio. I'll also publish each article on my blog once a month, starting next week, so you can read it online. I'm SO EXCITED to have this job because I feel like I can honestly tell people that I am a Real Writer. Here's a picture of my writing desk (the kitchen table) and some daffodils from my garden:

Somebody recently cautioned me against combining writing with visual art. He shared this Cezanne quote with me:

"If you would be a painter avoid the literary spirit."

I can't possibly take that advice! Of course I always try consider a painting for its own sake, but I can't completely isolate my literary and painterly tendencies. I just can't agree with Cezanne. (Although, I would love to have tea with him...or write a story about how I had tea with him while he painted, and how his young son climbed on my lap, and the birds sang in the garden...)

So, it's settled: I'm a writer AND a painter! It seems to be all interwoven within my soul.

Here's an illustration by Norman Rockwell that I remember vividly from my childhood copy of Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.  I loved that book, being one of four sisters myself.  I always wanted to be the character Jo, who wrote imagina… — Here's an illustration by Norman Rockwell that I remember vividly from my childhood copy of *Little Women* by Louisa May Alcott. I loved that book, being one of four sisters myself. I always wanted to be the character Jo, who wrote imaginative stories while hiding up in the attic of her house.

To celebrate my coming-out as a writer, I've decided to dedicate one of my work days to writing. This is a big step from trying to fit my writing into the late hours of the night, or random moments here or there. I have a lot of writing projects up my sleeve! In addition to my blog and Irregular articles, I am working on three new novels and seven short stories. And of course, poems often arise. My new schedule will be to work Monday-Friday 10-3 in my studio. Except for Wednesdays. Wednesdays will be for writing! It feels good to take my writing seriously!

Read some of my art-inspired creative writing here.

And speaking of writer-artists, check out my friend Kate Brandes, who is a great inspiration to me. She is an artist and a writer, soon to be published! Come to her book launch on April 22nd! Hooray Kate! (Read about our collaborative art projects here.)

Additional News: I am the featured artist for the April edition of the eastonPop Micro Mag. It is a very cool little magazine designed to highlight local pop culture in Easton. On the back is a map featuring some local studios and galleries, mine included! Thanks to my friend Esther for the great photo on the front cover. You can pick up an eastonPop micro mag at my studio, or at Terra Cafe or the Easton Public Market, as well as many other locations.

Synchronicity and Art

March 22, 2017

"Synchronicity arises from our search for meaning."

--Ed Kerns, artist

This week I had a job modeling for a painting class at Lafayette College. I frequently model for artist groups and classes, but it was my first time modeling for this particular class. When I introduced myself to the professor, Ed Kerns, he immediately waved me over to a seat beside his desk and started to talk to me about art. He invited me to sit in on the beginning of his class, which turned into an hour-long lecture which blew my mind.

I LOVED Ed's lecture and I felt extremely envious of the students in the class. I really wanted to be taking this class myself! What fascinated me was how much Ed talked about science, evolution, geology, and philosophy in a painting class. He spoke as if it were common knowledge that these things were inherently one thing, indivisible. I didn't have a notebook, so I couldn't take notes, and I could hardly keep up with the pace of the new ideas coming at me. It was so exciting!!!

I had never heard these terms before: entropy, emergence, synchronicity. As far as I could gather, "entropy" has to do with the universe's inevitable, gradual decline into disorder, or the tendency towards chaos. A force which counter-balances that is called "synchronicity," or meaningful coincidences. I didn't totally understand this; it was all so new to me. Among other things, Ed said, "Synchronicity arises from our search for meaning." We watched some of this Ted Talk: The Science of Sync.

He made me question things that I assumed were true. For example, is vision true? Do my eyes tell the truth? We watched a good part of this Donald Hoffman video, Consciousness and the Interface Theory of Perception, which made me question the reality of what my eyes tell me, and how that relates to being an artist. Because, what is an artist anyway, beside someone who manipulates visual objects?

We also watched this video of Rupert Sheldrake: Can Emergence Explain Reality? I didn't quite comprehend "emergence" and I really felt out of my depth here, but one thing I got from this was how pervasive change is in the universe. We can't really say "Laws" of nature, because they are inherently subject to change. They might more rightly be thought of as "Habits."

"One Thousand Miles Just to Shed this Skin" by Ed Kerns

This blog post in no way accurately summarizes the painting class. I'm sure I didn't really understand most of it anyway. It's just my feeble attempt to write down the things I felt I was able to grasp. What I got out of the afternoon was a sense of intense curiosity about science and the world, and a desire to wonder about things. I had always thought of myself as a very unscientific, very right-brained person, but now I'm questioning all that. Aren't I a scientist and a philosopher simply because I am alive and inquisitive, and part of this fascinating universe? And making art isn't separate from that!

I'm excited about modeling for the class again this afternoon. I'll let you know what I learn!

an image from Cajal's Butterflies of the Soul: Science an Art, a book Ed Kerns let me borrow

Tulips

March 15, 2017

"To watch them get a little older/ And give themselves up to the light."

---from "Tulips," by A.E. Stallings

"Sketch of a Tulip" oil on board by Lauren Kindle, 2016(This painting will be part of the EZ2STEAL small works show on March 25th at Prallsville Mills, Stockton, NJ.) — "Sketch of a Tulip" oil on board by Lauren Kindle, 2016
(This painting will be part of the EZ2STEAL small works show on March 25th at Prallsville Mills, Stockton, NJ.)

"Tulips" by A.E. Stallings

The tulips make me want to paint,

Something about the way they drop

Their petals on the tabletop

And do not wilt so much as faint,

Something about their burnt-out hearts,

Something about their pallid stems

Wearing decay like diadems,

Parading ﬁnishes like starts,

Something about the way they twist

As if to catch the last applause,

And drink the moment through long straws,

And how, tomorrow, they’ll be missed.

The way they’re somehow getting clearer,

The tulips make me want to see—

The tulips make the other me

(The backwards one who’s in the mirror,

The one who can’t tell left from right),

Glance now over the wrong shoulder

To watch them get a little older

And give themselves up to the light.

I would like to give a special thanks to my friend Kat, poet and creator of the blog, "Dragon's Meow: Poetry and Paying Attention," for introducing me to this poem by A.E. Stallings.

My Morning With Ken Kewley

March 8, 2017

“We all have the colors needed to make beautiful paintings.”

--Ken Kewley

It was raining steadily, so I put on my red raincoat and took my new umbrella, imagining, as I was opening the umbrella, that I was also opening my mind. I took along a pen and a sketchbook, and off I went through town, up the hill to Ken Kewley’s house.

I felt jittery all over, and my heart beat faster, because I was remembering my last visit with Ken Kewley not long ago, and how I had walked into his house and immediately felt overwhelmed by the art in it. Not only the art, but the art-making and all of its intoxicating debris, and the way that Ken talked about art, in his soft-spoken, humble way, saying things that made me forget to breathe. I felt a soul-pain, like my heart was a cup getting filled up…until it just cracked open.

I was part of a small gallery-tour, and we had reached the top floor of Ken’s house-studio. I couldn’t really concentrate, because I was so excited by everything I saw, but I remember him talking to the other people:

“If you go out and see a landscape and get excited about it,” he said, “You don’t have to go back to it, because the landscape is inside you.”

When I heard that, I sat down in the corner of his studio and started crying. I was overwhelmed and mortified, barely enduring Ken's kind, reassuring words or the looks of sympathy from the other people taking the gallery tour. I ran home as fast as I could, and later that night I wrote Ken a long, heartfelt letter, covering the envelope with tiny paintings. A few days later he responded warmly, and invited me to visit him in his studio for a power-point presentation. How could I refuse?

This is my favorite painting (currently) by Ken Kewley.  I like to pretend it's a painting of me, when I'm feeling overwhelmed and thinking too much! — This is my favorite painting (currently) by Ken Kewley. I like to pretend it's a painting of me, when I'm feeling overwhelmed and thinking too much!

And so now here I was, at his doorstep again, with my umbrella. I stepped out of the rain into a small, dark room. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, my heart did a little flip, for right before me on the wall was a huge Kyle Staver painting! My infatuation with the artist Kyle Staver was new and intense, and I tried to describe my enthusiam to Ken, stumbling over the words. As we talked about Kyle Staver, he calmly led me into his kitchen and made us some tea. He handed me a little ziplock bag containing a tiny notepad, a pen, and a few pieces of thin cardboard: squares and rectangles.

“This is your kit,” he explained, and then he went on to show me his own notepad, filled up with small squares in which he had composed various geometric compositions.

My kit, including some of my own straight-line compositions...

“I’ve been filling up these notebooks since my heart surgery in 2010,” he said, as he showed me a few of the thousands of compositions he had made. “I carry this kit everywhere I go. Even waiting in the line at the grocery store, I can easily make a dozen compositions.”

“Do you ever go back and look at them and use them for paintings?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “You’re just trying to get them inside you, into your muscle-memory.” He got out a little piece of cardboard and started using it like a straight edge, making lines.

“I just make little compositions,” he said as he drew. “One after another, one after another. Don’t think about it. Just relate each line to the one before it. The mind wants to relate everything to everything else. If someone walks in the door wearing a yellow shirt, then you will notice a yellow pencil lying on the table, or another yellow object. It’s like that. The mind will compose, if you let it. Thinking is the worst thing you can ever do. If you think, it’s very hard for your unconscious to do anything. You don’t have to do anything really, you just put it down, really, it’s so simple.”

I watched him make a few tiny compositions; it did look easy…

These are some of Ken's drawings:  "viola études" 144 square inches — *These are some of Ken's drawings: "viola* études" 144 square inches

Ken explained that his workshops had two basic goals: how to divide up a square into a composition, and how to get excited about color. “That’s all I teach,” he said.

He opened up the laptop and began showing me his power-point presentation. He began with his childhood, when his dad opened a paint store and painted large color strips all around the walls of the store. And now, that is essentially what Ken does himself, in his art: painting strips of colors, and using them like collage. He spoke about creating clear distinctions between shapes, and jumps in value.

“If your value is good, your color is going to be good,” he said. “Don’t try to match reality, but get the relationships right.”

The power-point presentation then shifted into a series of paintings by Braque, an artist I hadn’t known before. One painting showed a Braque still-life of grapes on a lettuce leaf, which was on a plate, which was on a table, which in turn was surrounded by white shapes.

"Fruit Dish and Clarinet" 1920 by Braque

“In this painting,” Ken pointed out, “Everything is being held by things. Everything is bracketed.” Ken encouraged me to look at more Braque paintings, as well as those by David Hockney, Diebenkorn, and Renoir.

“But, Renoir uses so many brush strokes and curves!” I protested.

“Yes,” Ken said, “But underneath all that fussiness, the structure is so strong. You want to have freedom, but it’s a freedom that you need to structure.”

"Gabrielle and Jean" one of my favorite Renoir paintings

He explained how you can always look for a few big shapes, maybe 4 or 5, shapes that connect with each other. So it’s not a house and a tree in a landscape, for example, but rather, two strong shapes relating to each other. Then, after you get those larger shapes working, you can go back in and fix the details.

He also suggested that when I’m painting, I find something that’s not the object, that the viewer is going to see first, and paint that. Then later, the viewer will begin to recognize objects. “It’s more exciting,” said Ken. “You’re not trying to confuse people, you’re just trying to slow down the looking.”

Slow down the looking.

I thought about that. I liked the way it sounded...

He started talking more about color, which is something I felt insecure about, having recently realized how very ignorant I am. But Ken acted like it was no big deal to use color, as long as I thought in terms of abstraction.

“Force what you’re working on into abstraction,” he said. “It’s the abstraction that’s the art. The other thing is the imitation. For example, if you are painting a landscape, what is exciting you? Is it the fact that it’s a particular species of oak tree? More likely it’s the colors and the shapes that excite you! That’s abstraction.”

He showed me a photograph of several jars of colored water, left over from cleaning brushes. “If you get excited about this, that’s all the color theory you need,” he said. “And as for the composition, it’s either dark clusters on light, or light clusters on dark.”

"Chocolate Cake with Apricot" by Ken Kewley, oil on panel

The power-point presentation went on and on. Ken described so many fun, playful activities, little “art-games,” that he typically uses during his workshops for the sake of understanding composition. Ken spoke excitedly at this point, his ideas coming faster than his ability to speak. I had an image in my mind of him teasing Color and Composition out of their mysterious hiding places, just as if they were kids on the playground.

One game involves chocolate. You take a large square of chocolate, break it into two unequal pieces, and then put the pieces into a square composition, arranging the pieces in an interesting way, scanning and printing the compositions as you make them.

“Do a hundred of these,” Ken said. “It would be easy to do a thousand! Then imagine if you had three colors and shapes. The possibilities would be infinite! This is all you do in your whole art career. You don’t have to try hard. You don’t have to try desperately. People don’t want to see that. If you’re happy you’ll paint happy paintings. And if you try to paint a happy painting, it will be sad.”

He encouraged me to work from life as well as working from my inner mind. “They feed each other,” he said. “Go out to a landscape, but instead of painting in the traditional way, just make a whole lot of paint strips, each one based on a color you see. You can also do a bunch of little line drawings with the straight edge. Then go home, and make a cardboard landscape sculpture based on your memory of the landscape. Then paint that. Keep the planes flat.”

The same thing could be done with a figure. If you have a model, make a cardboard sculpture of her, and then work from that. “Don’t imitate,” he said. “Describe.”

seated woman with landscape. 14 x 11 inches, acrylic on wood panel

Over and over again, he insisted that it’s really simple, that the unconscious would do the work for me, if only I would stop thinking. I wondered if it really would be so simple for me, especially because I seem to be in the habit of agonizing over everything in my life. I can turn the simplest thing into a deeply complicated form of mental torture, without even intending to. But maybe I could learn to let go of all that? I sighed deeply.

“Painting should not be hard,” Ken said, “because, it’s hard enough.”

As we finished our tea and ate the chocolate, we realized that it was quite late in the day. The power point presentation had lasted three and a half hours! My head was spinning pleasantly as I put on my raincoat and said goodbye. I felt very happy, and ready to try new things.

Outside, the rain had stopped, and the bright sunlight dazzled my eyes.

The End

Painting color strips with my six-year-old son...

Note: I wrote this story in May, 2016. It's a true story!

Upcoming Workshops With Ken Kewley:

Warehouse 521, Nashville, TN - June 16 - 18, 2017

Three Pines Studio, Cross Village, MI - June 23 - 25, 2017

Truro Center for the Arts at Castle Hill, Truro, MA - July 3 - 7, 2017

Following Ken Kewley on Facebook is a good way of keeping you updated on workshops, as well as (most likely) cultivating a serious, long-term relationship with Braque.

Ken also has a website: www.kenkewley.com

The Only Painting That Has Ever Made Me Cry

March 1, 2017

"To be in love with a painting—to cry...you need to be able to believe a painting can be alive:

not literally, but moment by moment in your imagination."

--James Elkins, Pictures and Tears

A couple of years ago I read a book by James Elkins called Pictures and Tears: A History of People Who Have Cried in Front of Paintings. Actually, I really only read about half of it, because I personally found it to be tedious and boring. (I should give it another chance, though. Sometimes my judgement is clouded by my whims.)

Even though I didn't get into the book itself, I just loved the title and the concept. I felt completely captivated by the idea of people standing in front of paintings all over the world, being moved to tears.

I myself have been moved by many paintings, but brought to tears only by one:

I haven't seen this painting in real life, but only in a book. Specifically, what moved me was the look in man's eyes. To me, it is the most tender, most loving, and also the most heart-breaking expression.

In her wonderful book, Meditations, Sister Wendy (the famous, quirky, art-loving nun) writes about this painting:

"We know at once that they love each other. Each gives love and receives it. Love is supremely beautiful, but like the golden chain the man has placed around the neck of his beloved, it also binds. Each is surrendering freedom, but willingly so, thus facing the truth that we cannot have everything; if we love, we make a choice. They do not even need to look into each other's eyes. Rather, they ponder with wonder, the implications of their blessedness and the meaning of total commitment."

April 2018 Update: Here's another painting that has made me cry, by Masaccio.

Has a painting ever made you cry?

Tell me about it in the comments below!

Winter Musings

February 22, 2017

"Who has not wept/ that love can offer us so little? And wept again/ that it can do so much?"

--"This Blessing" a poem by Michael Blumentha l (excerpt)

*"Snow Shadows" by Barry Koplowitz, oil on linen*

I returned home Monday night from a spontaneous and much-needed weekend vacation, cross-country skiing in the Berkshires with my husband. A few days of skiing through quiet, snowy forests was definitely therapeutic, maybe even soul-cleansing. And of course, I kept thinking how wonderful it would be to return someday with my easel and paints, and make some snowscape paintings! In that spirit, I've selected a few such landscapes painted by artists I admire, to illustrate today's blog post: some musings from my diary on the last morning of our mini-vacation.

*"Path Through the Snow Under Golden Skies" by Walter Launt Palmer (1854-1932)*

The roles of Mother, Wife, Daughter, Sister, Neighbor, Friend, Artist, and Writer... I would like to regard these as beautiful gifts to be received with gratitude, and taken on with a good mixture of responsibility and playfulness...

My intention, when we return home from this sunlit, tree-filled, blue-sky snowscape, is to re-enter my life with grace, not taking any of my roles for granted, nor suffering beneath their burdens, but rather, to take them gently by the hand, and dance lightly with them through all the days of my life...

However many days are given to me...

*"Winter Afterglow" by Peter Fiore, oil on linen*

I'm looking out the window at the morning light, feeling a joyful anticipation for another skiing adventure before we leave to pick up the kids and return to normal life. But even normal life is good. It's difficult to remember when you are "in the thick of it," so taking time to pause and reflect is going to be a big part of moving forward.

*my favorite detail from "The Magpie," which is my favorite painting by Monet*

Everything feels possible...

I do believe I am always growing, moving, and changing...

I strive for the artful management and balance of:

Solitude and Family,

Art and Duty,

Passion and Integrity.

This is my goal, worthy of all my energy, all my heart, all my soul.

"Frozen Lake New Galena" oil on linen, another painting by Barry Koplowitz(Side note:  Barry is one of my favorite artists, and he has some plein air painting workshops coming up in Yardley, PA which are sure to be fantastic.) — *"Frozen Lake New Galena" oil on linen, another painting by Barry Koplowitz*
*(Side note: Barry is one of my favorite artists, and he has some plein air painting workshops coming up in Yardley, PA which are sure to be fantastic.)*

Strange Love Letters

February 15, 2017

"Alas! Alas! Silence or sound, there is no substitute."

--from the love letters of Lauren Kindle

Envelopes As Art

In honor of Valentine's Day, today's blog post features love letters. I have always regarded envelopes as blank canvases, and I'm not alone. In the book Illustrated Letters: Artists and Writers Who Correspond, you can see the painted letters and envelopes of great artists such as Picasso and Corot. If you are local, I would be happy to loan you my copy of this book.

Reading through my old letters was a wild ride. Who writes "alas!" more than once in a sentence? Me. I do. Or I did when I was twenty, anyway. I credit my successful conquest of Ian not so much with the artistic quality of these letters, but with the sheer quantity and intensity of my correspondence.

There are dozens of letters, enough to fill a few boxes in our attic, and most of them are too embarrassing and private to share publicly. I'll just share a few excerpts, to give a hint at the contents of the envelopes.

Dearest, sweetest, most beloved man...

So close, so sweet, so dear to me. Am I writing a letter to my own heart?

Are you reading the words written by your very Soul?

I wish you were a jeweled, Byzantium cloak . I would wrap you around my shoulders to keep warm.

You are a beautiful, enchanted spring in a magical forest in which I am completely lost and thirsty, but drinking your water transforms me...

Only at night can I resume my human form, but I can never leave the forest.

Just as Psyche, a mere mortal woman, went trembling into the garden into the arms of the unknown, and found to her ecstasy that she embraced Eros, the god of love himself, so I found myself when I found you.

I became a goddess when you gave me your love.

You are a fair and adventurous sky over the ocean.

I love you with such passion-- If I let go of this pen my body would fly into heaven.

I listen to music night and day, vainly trying to fill the emptiness of your absence.

Alas! Alas! Silence or sound, there is no substitute.

How can you do this to me?

My pen is alive and insane! It will not stop-- my heart flows through it.

Maybe someday we will hear the Music of the Spheres together.

Maybe we will make children together.

I hope and I wish...I will be rash enough, brave enough, foolish enough, insane with holy love...

Perhaps I shall ask you to marry me...

Love,

Lauren

Further Reading

Lovesick Teenage Diary (more silly romance)

Travel Sketchbook (a painted envelope from Mexico)

No Blog Today (Just Missing Lida)

February 8, 2017

My mother-in-law, Lida, passed away yesterday. I don't have the heart or energy to write a blog post this week. I'll just share a few photos of her.

A few weeks ago, my 10-year daughter spent some time reading a book to her sick Grammy. — A few weeks ago, my 10-year daughter spent some time reading a book to her sick Grammy.

Here is a picture of Lida holding her newest grandchild, Sullivan, back in September, 2016.

A fairy-tea-party in Grammy's yard with four happy grandchildren, a few years ago.

Many years ago, a young Lida holds her first son, Ian.  (Ian is my husband, now 42 years old!) — Many years ago, a young Lida holds her first son, Ian. (Ian is my husband, now 42 years old!)

Rest in peace, Lida. I miss you so much already!

Studying Artists

February 1, 2017

"While I am working, I think about finishing a piece in a wonderful way that will show what I can do—at 91."

--Doe Levan, 91 year old art student

There is a great photography exhibit currently at the Baum School of Art in Allentown, PA, and it closes next Wednesday, February 8th. Studying Artists: Portraits of Baum School Art Students, is a collection of large format photographic portraits by Marco Calderon. It's worth going to see this show, and not just because I happen to be one of the subjects! (So cool!) Accompanying each portrait is a little text, words spoken by each student during the interview/ photo-shoot. It's cool to see how art, learning, and community are interconnected. The show is also a lovely homage to the Baum School. I feel very grateful to have taken two really wonderful figure drawing classes at Baum. I benefited both from the instruction, and from the environment. It's just so inspiring to be surrounded by other artists from different walks of life.

I've included a small "teaser" of the show here in my blog, but you really must see it in person if you can. The photos are much larger than your computer or phone screen, and there are many more portraits than I can fit here. I feel very lucky to have been part of this project. Thank you, Marco!

"Art, for me, is making stuff and expressing myself. My mom always likes when I make art."

--Alex "Junior" Peque

Studying Art Since 2015, Media: Drawing & Painting, Graphic Design

"Art is something that makes the world better, makes it more friendly, it gives people another way to look at the world rather than so many finite ideas. It creates another dimension in life."

-- Bruce Fritzinger

Studying Art for 40 years, Media: Ceramics

Black Lives Matter

January 25, 2017

"Black Lives Do Matter, For We Too, Are America!"

--Charles Stonewall (visual artist and friend)

#blacklivesmatter 1, oil on board, from the collection of Melissa and Renee Amator

Over the past four months, I have been working on a series of six paintings called #blacklivesmatter. They are still-lifes of fisher price dolls arranged in positions which emphasize white indifference to black death. This troubling issue has been in the news far too frequently lately. Indifference, and the ability to look away, are privileges that white people have. But it doesn't have to be that way! That is why each painting shows a white doll at the point of turning, sadly, to face the problem. Acknowledging that there is a problem is the first step towards fixing it!

#blacklives matter 2, oil on canvas mounted on board, 5x7" commissioned by Carol Reed (guest blog-post contributor!)

Thanks to the people who encouraged this project and bought the paintings, I was able to raise $400 to donate. Half of it went to blacklivesmatter.com, a national organization, and half of it went to the local NAACP. But more than money, the intent of this project was to raise awareness and compassion in my community. I'm also pleased to publish (below) two guest blog post contributions, thoughtful opinion-pieces from friends I admire and respect.

#blacklivesmatter3, oil on board, commissioned by Sally Huxley

Thoughts from Carol Reed:

"As a black woman, I, like a lot of mainstream America, was a bit confused regarding the "black lives matter" movement in the beginning. I noted the ongoing violence, and black-on-black crimes, happening in mostly poor inner cities. It was not until I discussed this in depth with a close friend, that I came to realize that most crimes are committed against people of the same race due to the fact that these are the people with whom they reside and interact on a daily basis. In addition to this, there are a multitude of socioeconomic factors that contribute to criminal behavior in particular communities such as disparities in housing, education and sentencing guidelines in the criminal justice system.

However, the main chord in the black lives movement is how some blacks are treated by the people who are supposed to protect them in time of need, the police.

The deaths of black suspects being pursued, or even just questioned by police officers, are in stark contrast to those who are not black, facing similar situations. The #blacklivesmatter painting, by Lauren Kindle, accurately portrays how the majority of America chooses to ignore the fact that blacks are dying at the hands of those who were sworn to protect them!"

#blacklivesmatter 4, oil on board, 5x7", commissioned by Karen Neuman (owner of Nature's Way health food store in Easton)

Thoughts from Charles Stonewall:

Black Lives Do Matter, For We Too, Are America!

For me, the idea and meaning behind Black Lives Matter isn't just about killing someone like me with their hands up or pulling us over while driving without probable cause, but to me, BLM is also about continually being ignored and denied the same luxurious opportunities as white individuals. As a human race, we all experience rejection at one time or another, but it is particularly more prevalent for people of color than those without any hue. Far too many whites are either spiteful or clueless to our experience in the workplace, especially when it comes to possible opportunities for advancement or leadership positions.

blacklivesmatter 5, oil on canvas, 5x7", from the collection of Audrey Kantner, a children's librarian at the Easton Area Public Library.

As a Black man, I see and feel more of the disparity along my path than others will ever experience or ever fully notice. I am but one, but I am with millions of other Black Lives that are well aware of social injustice and the importance of speaking out with a compelling voice…a voice that knows the repercussions of unfavorable or unfortunate acts, as well as notable achievements and success. Black Lives do Matter, for we too are America and we all have so much to offer!!!

2017 - Charles F. Stonewall, Visual Artist

Additional Thanks:

Also I'd like to thank Judie Dickerson (very active volunteer for the Cops 'n' Kids program in Easton) and Lisa Eckley Cocchiarale for purchasing #blacklivesmatter prints. All purchases, original art and prints, went towards raising money for the national blacklivesmatter.com and the local NAACP. Thank you!

Blog readers are encouraged to participate in this discussion by leaving their respectful comments below.

Yeats and Sargent are Dead

January 18, 2017

"Let the Irish vessel lie

Emptied of its poetry."

--w.h. auden, after his friend Yeats was buried

Charcoal portrait of the poet W.B. Yeats, by John Singer Sargent

When I see Sargent's charcoal portrait of Yeats, I am struck with a strange sadness. Both men are dead. They died long before I was born. No more poems. No more paintings. Forever.

No amount of yearning could ever allow me to reach my hand through the flimsy curtains of time, so that I might touch Yeats's smooth, youthful brow, or run my fingers down his long, beautiful neck. I'll never stand behind John Singer Sargent, watching him paint, his face radiant with concentration as he works. He probably wouldn't even notice me anyway, as I hover anxiously at his elbow, hoping to learn something from the wild sweeping movements of his paintbrush.

I think I'm supposed to write something beautiful, about how we really only have the present, these precious moments of life, and how we should be mindful of them, and use them well. And how it's such a good thing to leave paintings and poetry behind you for other people to appreciate, to help ease their own slow journeys to the grave.

But I'm not really feeling like that this morning. I'm just sad. I'm sad people have to die.

"Street in Venice" an oil painting by John Singer Sargent

She sings as the moon sings:

'I am I, am I;

The greater grows my light

The further that I fly.'

All creation shivers

With that sweet cry.

--Yeats (excerpt from "He and She")

Lovesick Teenage Diary: art and angst

January 11, 2017

"On Monday we had a male model, and it was the first time I had ever seen a naked man. I was actually quite excited and a good deal anxious...due to all the enthusiastic praise and boasts I had heard from classmates...

Boy, what a major disappointment I had."

--my diary, July 8, 1998 (age 17)

Here is a photo of me, sketching on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art during a high school field trip.  I'm about 17, I'm guessing. — Here is a photo of **me,** sketching on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art during a high school field trip. I'm about 17, I'm guessing.

Lately, I've been listening to a lot of podcasts while painting in my studio, and one of my favorites is "Mortified." It's a storytelling project where adults read pages of their actual diaries from childhood and adolescence. It's so good!

This gave me the idea to delve into my own diaries to look for some "mortifying" blog post material. There is a lot of embarrassing stuff in my diaries, which I have kept diligently since the first grade. I found some art-related writing from high school, but first, I had to wade through pages and pages of this kind of thing:

More diary entries:

February 1998

In case you don't remember, I am still madly in love with Zack Jones*. I always have been. Every day my love grows stronger, yet I burden only you with this secret. I am like Helena.**

Without Zack, living is reduced to a very small thing...

I always love Zack, and draw, unwillingly, his beautiful features upon my heart...

Dearest God, I love Zack so much that it overflows and spills out in great puddles over the rest of the world...for this love I would chop off all my limbs or walk across fire, or give my life. I probably would not gouge out my eyes, and I definitely would not sell my soul. But it's close.

*not his real name (this poor guy never had a clue about my major crush on him)

** Helena is a lovesick character from All's Well That Ends Well by Shakespeare.

Here's a photo of me in high school.  I'm proudly holding onto a piece of some scenery I painted for the school play, "Arsenic and Old Lace."  (#dramaclub #theatergeek) — Here's a photo of me in high school. I'm proudly holding onto a piece of some scenery I painted for the school play, "Arsenic and Old Lace." (#dramaclub #theatergeek)

April 21, 1998...

Monotony! Everything is monotony!! I sink lower and lower into the slime of non-life and soon I shall be dead. I crave life and action and faraway places...and LOVE!! My heart is heavy with this imminent something.

Although I suffered the torments of a melodramatic adolescence, I was able to find sanctuary in Art. I had a wonderful, encouraging art teacher: Mrs. Victor. That summer, thanks to Mrs. Victor, I got a scholarship to take a month-long figure drawing class for teens at the Moore College of Art & Design in Philadelphia. I felt very independent, taking the train into the city every day by myself. I wrote about my experience:

July 8, 1998

Today was my third day of life drawing class at Moore. I'm learning a lot about the human body and how to draw it. Our model didn't show up today, so the teacher made us draw a skeleton instead. Then everyone voted to walk to the Rodin Museum and sketch. It was gray and cold and raining steadily, and was exactly the type of rain which is unpleasant to go walking in.

On Monday we had a male model, and it was the first time I had ever seen a naked man. I was actually quite excited and a good deal anxious. I couldn't stop thinking about what one would look like, because I had never seen one. I sort of had the impression of something beautiful, magical, and awe inspiring, due to all the enthusiastic praise and boasts I had heard from classmates...

Boy, what a major disappointment I had...Oh well. Some things are not as good as people make them out to be. I should learn to recognize exaggerations when I hear them.

But how was I supposed to know? It was a complete shock.

Here is a charcoal drawing I did in that Moore class, so long ago.  It's too bad, I couldn't find the naked man drawing that I wrote about.  Perhaps, in my state of "shock," I threw it away... — Here is a charcoal drawing I did in that Moore class, so long ago. It's too bad, I couldn't find the naked man drawing that I wrote about. Perhaps, in my state of "shock," I threw it away...

PS. I never wrote about Zack Jones again. A few pages later, I had a new crush.

Vinnie Ream

January 4, 2017

"My work has never been labor, but an ecstatic delight to my soul. I have worked in my studio not envying kings in their splendor; my mind to me was my kingdom, and my work more than diamonds and rubies."

--Vinnie Ream

(from an address given to the International Council of Women, Toronto Canada, 1909)

Over the holidays, I stumbled across an interesting book on my mother-in-law's bookshelf: Vinnie Ream: the Story of the Girl Who Sculpted Lincoln by Gordon Langley Hall. For the next several hours, I squirreled myself away in a back room, mesmerized by this incredible woman's story, which I had never known before!

Vinnie Ream was born in a log cabin in Wisconsin in 1847. She had a very interesting childhood and the good fortune to attend Christian College in Columbia, Missouri (up to age twelve, girls could attend the section known as the Academy.) Here she studied the harp, banjo, guitar, and harpsichord. She also took up painting and ultimately decided she wanted to be a sculptress. She confided her dream to Congressman Rollins, an important college visitor who was very impressed by Vinnie's artistic talent. When she left Christian College at age twelve, the President gave her a clipping with this quotation from Robert Hall (English minister and writer) which she kept with her for her entire life:

No man can ever become eminent in anything,

unless he work at it with an earnestness bordering on enthusiasm.

close-up of Vinnie's most famous statue of Abraham Lincoln

Her family moved to Washington DC when Vinnie was nearly fifteen. On the day they arrived in the city, Vinnie saw Abraham Lincoln himself, walking through the crowded street. She was struck by "the lines of sadness on his face." Vinnie got a job at the Post Office to help support her family.

She loved wandering around DC, admiring the architecture and art. One day, when she was exploring the Rotunda of the Capitol, she ran into Congressman Rollins, who had encouraged her artistic dreams years before. He introduced her to Clark Mills, then the foremost sculptor in America. She ended up becoming his student.

When Lincoln heard about the poor Post Office clerk who had been accepted as a pupil by Clark Mills, he was intrigued. He allowed her to come and try and mold his likeness in clay, as he sat at his desk. As it happened, Vinnie was the last artist Lincoln posed for before his assassination. Shortly afterwards, Vinnie became the youngest person and first woman to receive a commission as an artist from the United States government for a statue, the statue of Lincoln. She was nineteen years old!

oil painting by George Peter Alexander Healy

Once the government approved her initial plaster model, Vinnie was able to travel many places, including Florence. When she was in Italy, she studied sculpture and picked out the marble for her statue. She met the painter George Peter Alexander Healy during her Italian travels, and he painted her portrait, with her hand on her guitar. (above)

Vinnie went on to have a very full life as a successful, professional, working artist, with one major obstacle: her husband. When she was 31, she finally got married (very late in life, in those days) to a soldier named Richard Hoxie. Richard believed it was the husband's job to earn money, and he forbade his new wife to work any more, except as a hobby. Vinnie obeyed him, but she sorely missed her work. However, after many years (and the birth of a son), Vinnie became unwell and very sad, and her husband relented. She was then able to work as a sculptress until her death at age 67. On her grave, her husband placed the statue of Sappho, which she had created.

My work has never been labor, but an ecstatic delight to my soul.

--Vinnie Ream

Thanks for reading my blog! I hardly did justice in my short blog post to all of the fascinating details of this woman's life. I recommend reading the book, Vinnie Ream by Gordon Langley Hall. In fact, if you want to read it, express your interest in the comments below. I will pick a name at random next week (January 10) and I will mail my copy of the book to the winner, for free! I'll even write a special secret note inside of it...

PS. If you like reading about amazing women artists from history, please check out my blog post: Divine Passion: Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun. I also wrote a little bit about Camille Claudel, another female sculptor from history, in my blog post: "When We Dead Awaken."

Women Alone By Windows

December 28, 2016

"...love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you...

the space around you is beginning to grow vast..."

--Rainer Maria Rilke

"The Maid in the Kitchen" by Anna Archer

"The First Daffodils, Girl from Laren" by Max Metzoldt — "The First Daffodils, Girl from Laren" by Max Metzoldt

"The Open Window" by Jean Edouard Vuillard — "The Open Window" by Jean Edouard Vuillard

“It seems to me that almost all our sadnesses are moments of tension, which we feel as paralysis because we no longer hear our astonished emotions living. Because we are alone with the unfamiliar presence that has entered us; because everything we trust and are used to is for a moment taken away from us; because we stand in the midst of a transition where we cannot remain standing. That is why the sadness passes: the new presence inside us, the presence that has been added, has entered our heart, has gone into its innermost chamber and is no longer even there, - is already in our bloodstream. And we don't know what it was. We could easily be made to believe that nothing happened, and yet we have changed, as a house that a guest has entered changes. We can't say who has come, perhaps we will never know, but many signs indicate that the future enters us in this way in order to be transformed in us, long before it happens. And that is why it is so important to be solitary and attentive when one is sad: because the seemingly uneventful and motionless moment when our future steps into us is so much closer to life than that other loud and accidental point of time when it happens to us as if from outside. The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes our fate.”

--Rainer Maria Rilke

More paintings of Women Alone By Windows can be found on my Pinterest Board by that name.

If you liked this blog post, you might also like "Sorrow and Art."

Birth Day

December 21, 2016

"Love is all around you. Love is within you. You have created me as surely as I have created you."

--my diary, December 2006

I painted "The Fullness of Time" (acyrlic on canvas 24x24" 2006), shortly before my daughter was born.

Today, December 21, is my daughter's birthday! She is ten years old! I can't believe it! (As it happens, my birthday is tomorrow, on the 22nd, so my daughter and I almost-share birthdays.) I named her "Nell," which means "cloud" in Scots Irish (according to some baby name book). Her middle name is Aurora, which means "dawn," because she was born at dawn.

Nell was born in my grandmother's house in New Jersey, where Ian (my husband) and I were living at the time. (Read more about Grandmommy in my blog post, "Ten Years and a Teapot.") Here is a picture I drew in my diary: Grandmommy is eating a cookie and holding her brand-new infant great-granddaughter on her lap. I really like her gesture and I think it would make a fun painting.

Here is an excerpt from my diary describing the birth:

It didn't take long for me to realize it was happening...I fell into the moment like it was a deep, magical pool. I felt so loved and supported... the birth transcended all sense of time, the old reality slipped away...I remember walking around the upstairs...holding tightly onto Ian's hands and arms...I felt like he was holding me and I was in a deep ocean. The pain was great, but it was beautiful too. I found myself smiling a lot...

Afterwards, Dina [the midwife]...placed the baby on my chest. She started to make little cries right away, like a little lamb. Her eyes were wide open, almond-shaped...looking all around, looking at me. She was so beautiful. I fell into a thousand, thousand, infinite fathoms of love. I was so happy, so exhausted, so tired, so transformed. I felt like a whole new person. I felt exquisitely beautiful.