Friday, October 26, 2012

Journey



























Each month a small community of Vashon Island artists meet in one another's homes to feast, to converse about art and share where their creative paths have taken them since last they met.  The group has been meeting since 2005.

In some measure each gathering represents the cycle that defines Journey.  The dinners have come to represent conclusions and beginnings, demarcations that round the individual's creative search for expression that is somehow more fully realized when shared within this community of friends. 


In recognition of our shared paths, I am one of nine artists this show represents, we decided a year ago to create new work that would express our personal interpretation and exploration of Journey as subject.  

On Tuesday, October 30 I will help gallery director for Vashon Allied Arts, Janice Mallman, hang and mount our show in the Blue Heron Gallery.  I have seen some of the work in progress but I anticipate the thrill of seeing these creative paths converge on November 2 and for a short month, become one!

Please check out these links for artists Morgan Brig  Brian Fisher  Francesca Fuller  Don Glaister  Penny Grist  Suzanne Moore  Donna Romero  Gay Schy  Vallerie Willson.




Monday, October 15, 2012

The Harpies, Rust Process
























Fall rains, or our seasonal wet, have finally arrived on Vashon Island and in the Pacific Northwest.  I have been thankful for our delayed Fall weather and the extended opportunity to work outside. Yesterday, though, the fantasy ended and my outside rusting process came to a close.  Here are a few images of me taking apart the process and revealing a rust plate and rusted image.
This rust print is sourced in Apollonius of Rhodes description of The Harpies attacking King Phineus of Thrace, (Thrake.)  Phineus first traded his sight for foresight and was subsequently punished by Zeus for revealing too many secrets of the Olympian gods.  Zeus sent the Harpies to snatch any food set before Phineus and befoul any scraps left behind.  When Jason and the Argonauts befriended  Phineus the winged Boreades, Zetes and his brother Calais, gave chase.  They pursued The Harpies to the Strophades Islands where the goddess Iris directed them to turn back and leave the Harpies unharmed.
 

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Nature's Priest at Unclad

The 11th annual "UNCLAD" Art Show opened yesterday October 12th and will run through the 14th, 10 am to 5 pm, at the Floyd Norgaard Cultural Center in Stanwood.  Admission: $5 suggested donation.

The show features over 150 artworks -- all nudes -- by artists from across the country. A variety of styles and mediums are on display, from watercolors and oils to bronze, steel, and glass sculpture.

Special Events include a lecture and reception with art historian and travel guide, Vicki Artimovich, on Saturday evening, Oct. 13th, from 6 pm to 9 pm.

The "Floyd" is located at 27130 102nd St NW, about two blocks north of SR 532. For more information about the show and a preview of the Art, visit the website. www.uncladart.com

At left, Nature’s Priest, is one of four of my own works in the 2012 Unclad show.  Nature’s Priest is an oil on canvas and is 46.5 x 17.5 in.

Friday, October 12, 2012

Hylas, Lost to Love

Hylas, Lost to Love  14  x 14 in.  Rust Monoprint
Apollonios Rhodios wrote his version of the Argonautika, the story of Jason and the Quest for the Golden Fleece, in the 3rd century BC but this Hero's story is probably the oldest extant Greek myth.

When I began my investigation of “rust” as a medium for creative process a year and a half ago I decided to make the Argonautika the subject for my personal quest and chose Peter Green’s translation of the Argonautika as source for my imagery.  Below, Green describes the fate of Hercules companion, Hylas in a significant chapter of the Argonautika.

'Hylas, then, came to the spring that was known as The Fountains by local inhabitants. Just now, as it chanced, the dances of the nymphs were being held there; for it was their custom, that of all the nymphs who dwelt around that lovely mountain, ever to honor Artemis with nocturnal song. Now all whose haunts were hilltops or mountain torrents, the guardian wood nymphs, these were ranged apart; but one water nymph had just swum up to the surface of the sweet-flowing spring. Before her she saw young Hylas in a blushing glow of sweet gracefulness and beauty:  for on him the full moon, shining clear from heaven, now cast its light. Aphrodite fluttered her senses, leaving her stunned, scarce able to gather her wits. But the moment he dipped his pitcher in the current, Crouching over sideways, and the brimful stream rang loud,  as it hit the echoing bronze, then she at once slipped her left arm round his neck from above, in urgent longing to kiss his tender young mouth, and with her right hand drew down his elbow, plunged him into mid-eddy.'