it's all about the light

August is change... I felt it early one morning last week, there was a slightly different quality to the cool air wafting through the open window

couldn't put my finger on it but it was more than just the feeling of a cooler summer morning - more like a felt memory of late Fall... when the nights and mornings are dark,  the ground frosted white and the geese fly overhead early and late

later that morning an email from a friend mentioned her return to collage experiments and as always happens when she writes me of them, I had a renewed collage hankering of my own

I thought of some frosty prints I had made a few years ago, some using a Lino-block stamp I had carved - a quick search found them along with a few other simpler scraps 

above is the orientation I began with, below is where I finished

not sure which is best but I'm leaning above

along with everything else, I've also been working through a "Winter Writing Sanctuary", a seasonal free offering by Beth Kempton last winter - the lesson I was on whilst working on this collage was to write a winter Haiku poem using various prompts - the one I had chosen was "winter garden"

shadow petals drift

thorns lay bare across the snow

winter garden moon

not a direct translation of the collage but there's something in each that reminds me of the other

on searching for the said prints I came across some pigment-coloured cloth I had made a couple of years ago

in search of twilight at the time of making, I had played about with indigo, black and yellow ochre

the result wasn't overly successful but as I looked at it the other day I had a hankering to draw darkened bare-limbed trees

a dip pen and carbon black ink I made worked rather well I think

done lightly, there is little to no bleed 

small, absorbing what-ifs that whiled away the hours a few times this week

when its hot and humid

the heat arrived last week -  blistering temperatures, the hot heat

 the humidity followed forthwith

uncomfortable doesn't begin to describe it so to soothe myself, I browsed photos taken in the depths of winter

this one, of the Klondike river boat, is a favourite

it was taken last November during a wild snowstorm that descended on the city in a moment and created havoc within a couple more

 

a few years before that I took the image below... a section of one side of the Klondike, before the latest restoration began, the boards beautifully distressed

the boats were constructed of narrow strips of wood, painted white, a simplicity in design I have always been drawn to

 a long time ago I had a thought to some day take that design sensibility, long, narrow and white, to make a book

seems some day may have arrived... 

having made up my mind to get started on it, I quickly decided on the paper I want to use (Hahnemühle Agave Watercolour paper (my favourite) and then thought about what this book might look like

long, narrow pages, white, a nod to the boards

at the moment I'm leaning toward a measurement of 3 1/2" x 9"

for imagery I decided to turn to the river for inspiration

favourite images of the water and some with the shore were printed

a rummage through some older work yielded strips of white linen that had been coated with gesso and then painted with watercolour - something interesting in that combination

 before I tackle the actual book I'm going to work on a number of sample pages, beginning with what I know and then seeing what comes of that...

for now its a place to begin

 

 

these are now glued down, the "page" pressing under weight

 

I then wondered what cutting a long narrow opening into a page might look like, with the imagery of the next page showing through

I dithered on the size of said opening and then decided to just cut one and figure it out from there

so far so good

the first trial "window" is 1" x 6 1/2"

I like it but proportions are tricky things so I might try something slightly less than 1" on the next sample - or maybe cut a few with a variety of measurements and have a play

laid on an image of shore trees against the sky, I liked what I was seeing, so much so that it is now cut and mounted behind

 

another project on a long list of "would like to do"s coming to the forefront and one I'm excited to be starting finally, after all this time

so now its ice lines stitching in the evenings when I get to sit a spell and paper and book things in the day when I need to escape the heat

summer might not be so bad after all!

when something takes hold

a few years whilst up north one very cold November I took some pictures of the Yukon River

I've taken many, but that trip, on that day, I was after something very specific... I suppose I've got ahead of myself,,, this story actually begins several months before that November day in 2023

a few years before, I'd come across a copy of a photography book by Charles Prost of the gardens of Claude Monet in Giverny, France

Prost photographed the gardens once a week for an entire year, the book is a selection of images from each of the four seasons

for a number of reasons I didn't look at the book until the summer before that trip and it had a profound impact me... I have to look at it to remember the images from Spring, Summer and Fall;  the Winter ones have never left me 

their impact was deep and profound

I'd never seen water that way before, nor reflections, not as art in and of themselves

 on that cold November day on the banks of the Yukon River I was hoping for a little of that magic of my own

the light was low, blues and blacks emphasized

the river had an oily look to it, a beautiful sheen that grabbed the light, reflecting it back on the darkening sky

the trees on the water shimmered black, unmoving yet indistinct as the current flowed through them

enlarging the images simply enhances the blur

today I decided to take that inspiration for a spin and work with it, in paint

what I did is not a rendering, nor an attempt to try

it's simply an attempt at interpretation, based on inspiration

using matte acrylic paint along with acrylic ink in colours inspired by the photos, I taped off a piece of heavyweight cartridge paper into four sections and had a try

first dabbing, swishing, and streaking white here and there across the four rectangles

then layers of black, indigo, sepia, separately and all mixed together, over and over again

scratched into

and pulled back with dabs of a paper towel

again and again, layer after layer

hoping at the end I'd have something that perhaps came close to what had inspired me first in the book and then at the river

in the end I got there

not sure how but these are going to be a factor in what I do over the next week... the first thing to do is print the photos on some of the fine art papers I've recently added to my collection and take it from there

and then start all over again

thoughts of a wandering mind

dappled light, cool morning air

high on the ladder, red pail hanging by its handle, I'm hidden in a swathe of green and red

thunk, thunk, thunk, into the pail the handfuls of cherries go

the methodical repetition of picking them allows my thoughts to wander to the small room on the top floor where creativity happens...

in my mind I gather fine Japanese papers, vintage linen, threads in shades of blue/grey, white and off-white and drawing/painting supplies... looking and considering, laying a few of each aside to begin

twenty minutes later, at the potting bench, the cherries now in a large bowl, the sorting begins... good ones here, the rest there

here, my mind wanders again, now experimenting with printing on the papers... first digitally using edited photographs, then mono- and gelli-plate printing... ice lines flowing across the pages in silver or grey

inside now, standing at the kitchen sink - washed cherries to the left, a parchment-paper lined sheet pan to my right

pulling the cherries apart with my thumb, removing the pits. checking for worms (I found 9, in 175+/- cups of sweet and tart cherries)

at the same time,  the work upstairs has progressed, painted and printed papers depicting the frozen ice that lay along and partially over the Yukon River were being combined in various ways, here and there with added stitching or drawn marks... the work was absorbing and experimental, I was very much in a "flow" state of mind

as the last pan of cherries slid onto a shelf in the freezer, the images of creativity faded away, replaced by the hum of the refrigerator as I closed the door

it was wonderful while it lasted...

the next day, with a few free hours ahead of me I stepped into that same room and all of the inspiration I had been previously flooded with fell away, dropping at my feet as swiftly as the few errant cherries that had escaped my grasp the day before

I've had this happen to me time and again but on this occasion I was ready - all the work I had done ten days before to print photos, make notes, organize my thoughts - all of that was all recorded in my sketchbook, just waiting for me to finally show up

flipping to the pages where I had jotted down ideas of ways to depict the ice lines, I quickly settled on one close to the top of the list

expanding on the kintsugi-style trials I was doing on paper in the Spring, I wanted to try the same thing with silver leaf to portray the wind-blown lines of snow and ice

choosing a piece of drawing paper previously painted with a pale blue-grey ink, I began

silver leaf

building up the lines by adding more and more layers of the medium as each dried, eventually I had achieved a certain degree of relief that felt correct and as soon as it had dried enough I applied the silver leaf

next was to cover that with the specialty sizing that would allow me to add paint - this in an effort to break up the lines of silver somewhat and bring in the sense of crusted snow and ice

the photo makes the lines look very dark - in reality they are mostly a fairly flat silver though I took care not to put the sizing on all of it, wanting some of the brighter silver to shine through

with the sizing medium

next was to start adding colour over top of the silver in a stippling effect, using white and light grey

that took a lot of trial and error, first to find the right paint, and then the right brush

I finally settled on matte acrylic paints in white and black and a small, scratty brush, bristles somewhat stiff from being used as a glue brush over time and also from being cut into to create an uneven edge to it

first I stippled light grey here and there on the silver leaf lines followed by white - once that was done I added a few light grey stippled areas here and there between the lines, looking for a rough ice surface effect

with dry and white paint on the lines and in-between

I was beginning to feel somewhat pleased with the overall effect though it did seem rather "neat and tidy" so I decided to add one more layer

a fine white stipple over much of the ice area, crossing over the ice lines, overtop of the light grey already there - just a random pouncing of the brush with the barest bit of white paint

low exposure

I played with the exposure setting when photographing this stage in order to show the white stippling done at the end - it seems to be rather effective at bringing the piece to life

below is a high exposure photo which is probably a bit closer to the true value of the actual piece than the one above

so... I think next I'll print each of these last two images on a piece of fine Japanese paper and then have a think about what to do with them

I may not exactly remember all I made whilst up in that cherry tree, nor during the processing afterwards but it fed the creative spark, got me to just show up when I did have the time, and my previous planning helped me to get moving when I began to flounder

this small exercise in creative experimentation has given me a great big creative boost but the funny thing about it was... whilst working on the ice lines I was thinking of making cherry pies!

caught in the ice...

wandering in to the studio late one afternoon just over a week ago, wondering what I could do with the free hour I had... looking through a few things on my worktable but nothing clamoured for my attention

 by the time I finally chose something almost half of the hour was gone

feeling frustration starting to rise at the time wasted I thought back to a day not long before I went to the Yukon in May, when I had settled on re-visiting my work on the Yukon River and developing some new pieces

to the storage drawer I went, pulling out a few pocket folders and zippered storage cases filled with cloth and paper samples and snippets

within a few minutes I had sorted out everything that had to do with the ice lines I was exploring early in the year and decided to begin there

that evening I looked through the photographs I had taken on the day I first noticed the ice formation, set up a "River Ice" folder in iPhoto and transferred them all there

the next time I was between chores (staining the patio and/or picking cherries) I played with a few simple photo edits and then printed out ten favourites to work with

this past week I cut out the photos in preparation for drawings and a bit of mark-making, cut up some drawing paper and generally got organized for that

once that was all sorted I turned to the stitch samples in progress, thinking about which ones still capture my interest, what just needs to be finished and which ones provide enough information as they are and can simply be mounted in the sketchbook as a reference

to be sure I run the risk of making this all about getting organized - its an old trick of mine, used to dodge doing the riskier stuff like actually drawing, or starting a piece of work

to snap myself away from that I picked up a piece of linen I had done machine stitch writing on... it was from several years ago, a discard from a previous work

hmmm....

it was triangular in shape with a wobbled curve edge

a few seconds later there were three wobbled-edge strips - layered, they reminded me of the ice, the rough texture of it, the repetition of line

next is to add a few stitches along the raw edges

the idea of stitching words on the cloth with the machine holds more promise I think, and a few variations on the theme have already come to mind

jotting things down in the notebook I set up (like a bullet journal, with numbered pages and categories) will not only keep me from forgetting any random ideas that wander through my mind,  but will be a quick stop to find something to work on in those short periods of time available to me during this very busy month

it's all about cherries for the next while...

leading the way

scrolling through instagram the other night, looking at a few new-to-me feeds, I remembered something I read a while back...

"notice what you are noticing"

what I was noticing on that evening in particular was the beautiful work I was seeing in a few different disciplines, most especially pottery and weaving,  that had me entranced

there was an overwhelming simplicity to it; seemingly plain at first glance but with a complexity in texture and materials that I found profoundly beautiful

and I wanted that for my work

in looking and thinking it dawned on me that I could have it, in all the techniques I use, by keeping in mind the one single overriding aspect I saw in all the pieces I had looked at that night

the materials led the way

if every single thing I do follows that tenet I should be able to achieve work that would make my heart sing

immediately a small hank of old rope I had found on the shores of the Yukon River near The Ways in Whitehorse came to mind...

I dug it out and laid it on a piece of plank driftwood 

I had washed the dirt from it on arriving home, revealing a beautiful woven chevron-type pattern laid over a 3/4" thick core

I'm not sure if this would have come from one of the old riverboats, they last ran in the 1950s, but the icy cold waters preserve all manner of things that in warmer climes would have long since rotted away so perhaps it is

regardless of it's original purpose, it now resides on my desk, on it's board, to serve as a visual reminder that it's the materials I need to look to when finding my way

I've always thought of myself as a "process" person but this latest realization has shown me that its the materials that need to take the lead 

and if needed, the process will have to be the one to bend

doing and learning

the long-planned studio days finally arrived this week and the work began...

printing photos was the first order of the day, beginning with the ones I took of the remains of the Tutshi paddlewheeler

there is something about the graphic nature of these photos I find interesting,  all those lines going in every direction

 some drawing and stitching seemed like a good place to begin

I had a few papers that were painted with the ash ink I made a while back along with some acrylic ink - they reminded me a little of the blotch marks I saw in some areas on the hull of the boat

some simple stitched lines and knots

the backgrounds are a little busier than I would like, the contrast not as strong as perhaps it should be but that doesn't matter at all as these are just small trials that let me play with line

the one on the bottom right is my favourite and the one I'm going to work further 

the drawings fall into the category of "I'm glad I did them but..."

what they did tell me is that I'm not so interested in the lines and dots as I am in the weathering marks that were visible in some of the close-ups of the hull and the charred wood

some of them remind me of Asemic writing (which I'm investigating this week as part of an online course I enrolled in a few months back) whilst others make me think go EKG monitors etc

its taken me a while to sink back into my creative space, finding my way with the materials, figuring out what I want to do, and even more importantly, what I don't want to do

one thing I learned from this is that I'm less a fan of composition as I am of materials - I'm far more interested in the bubbly texture of the painted white metal portion of the hull than I am in the lines and rivets that cover it

I'm surprised at that as it was the lines that caught my attention in the first place but when it came to doing the samples I didn't bother with them much - I could try again and make them bolder, bump up the contrast, and go for something with stronger graphics but... the idea of doing that holds no interest for me whatsoever

 the textures I saw are a completely different matter though

and that has set me thinking...

and that is why I sample

where to begin...

begin at the beginning seemed like the smart thing to do

home now, a heart full of memories and small collection of bags full of small nature finds to inspire

I've been waiting to work with what inspired me but the garden needed attention first so it was only today that I had the chance to think about where to begin and what to do

I began with a small piece of flat grey driftwood that once was part of a milled board but I quickly lost interest in that when I came across a small piece of fabric that set me thinking

it was a failed image transfer from last year but the marks that did transfer were of enough interest I had kept the cloth

as I looked at it I was taken back to a day at the beginning of my trip, when we went to Carcross and I was able to take photos of the burned hull of the Tutshi

the marks reminded me of the weathering of the hull and I thought they could be a good base to explore some mark-making inspired by the rivets and construction lines of the riverboat

wanting more to work with, a search through the paper drawer yielded some ink and ash painted papers, also showing potential for use as a base for further explorations

next was to print contact sheets of the images to start with… some to add as reference images to my sketchbook, others to use in collage.

another ink-painted paper that might work its way in

as for the driftwood piece I began with, its still on the worktable, awaiting its turn

I've been reading a lot about creativity lately, the process and what blocks us... for so long I've felt out of sync with making, wanting to work and develop pieces that reflect what I discover and think but never quite able to bring it all together, never getting past the sampling and trying things out

there has been a lot of frustration in that

I realize now that whilst I would collect all the ideas I wanted or needed,  tried some different techniques, I felt I couldn't get started on a resolved piece of work without first knowing the endpoint 

last week I learned that in that belief  I was destroying the last steps of the creative process before it had the chance to even begin

today I made this small start... I have no idea where the path will lead but I know the first steps and for now that's enough

collecting...

the winters are no longer as cold here as they once were

one thing the milder weather seems to be affecting is the number of wildflowers blooming

this past week its been the lupins that have taken over

I admit to them not being my favourite flower as a child... it was all about crocuses and Queen Anne's Lace for me

I hardly even remember seeing many lupins

a few nights ago on an evening walk my daughter and I noticed the transformation to the forest floor... clumps of lupins were everywhere, as far as we could see, in every direction

each day there are more, the colour deepening

a most beautiful sight amongst the varying greens

I feel filled with inspiration from all the places I've been, and the things that I've seen and it will all be coming forth in both words and images over the next few weeks

in preparation for the writing I want to do i've been looking through all the poems from the 100 Day Project and thought I'd share four of my most favourite ones with the stories behind them

this is tied to growing up and living the better part of my life (literally and figuratively) in the forests of the Yukon

so many of the old pathways of my childhood are still intact, the wide expanse of forest across the street from childhood is the same... one rock in particular, still embedded in the path

I used to always stand on it, rocking back and forth on the slightly raised centre before continuing to a friend's house

I love that I do it today without even thinking

sunset is well after 11:30pm now though there is no darkness, just a slight dimming of the light

on the lakes it grows quiet even before that though nothing is really sleeping yet... there's a tranquillity that sinks deeply 

the cold spring has made for a late run-off; the river was low. when I arrived and still is, many channels completely empty of water

one day I took advantage of that and walked out to one of the islands having never been able to do that in all the years I lived here

the stones were all varying shades of light to medium grey and then I noticed one that stood out rather dramatically

it was of the same beautiful blue-green as the water and I found it ironic the only hint of the river in the dry bed came from the colour of a stone 

this last one is I think my favourite; it has stayed with me since I wrote it in the very early days of the project

ice fog in the winter often completely enveloped the land

sound is muffled, streetlights and headlights shrouded until you get quite close though still diffused

the fog seems to swallow both sound and light

when temperatures fell below -40 we would sometimes boil water and toss it off the back stairs outside the house and listen for the ice to hit the ground

we were never disappointed

it seemed to me the ice fog did the same sort of thing to the spoken words, the way sound didn't travel, just seemed to fall away immediately and I imagined words splintered and laying frozen on the ground

I still love the idea of that and you'll be seeing some work with it over the coming weeks

tomorrow I fly back to Salmon Arm, to manicured landscapes and hot weather, taking a small collection of driftwood and stones, barks and pressed flowers with me

that, along with the most beautiful collection of memories and inspiration to fill me up until the next time I'm home

the ways...

a walk along the river last week led me to the ways...

the place where the paddle wheelers were winched on shore to dry dock for the winter months, and the place where they were released back to the river

the place where the new boats were launched, and where the decommissioned ones were brought ashore for the last time

the way of things

"the ways" is a term I have always, always loved

in ship-building terms its the "launching"

so much meaning packed into two simple words

how they looked, back in the day

I love that there are still four timbers remaining, along with much of the infrastructure

as well as remnants of the steel cables, cross-boards, spikes etc.

most of the year they under cover of water or ice but in early spring, when the river levels are low, you can walk right out to them

Thursday was such a day and I spent some time, looking, thinking, considering all the weight that term can carry, literally and figuratively

I love terms like that... ones that have different ways of looking at them... ones that can be used separately though still carry a connection

and oh that weathering!

I happened to have a small notepad with me that day, and a pencil, so I took the opportunity and made a rubbing

I can almost see letters here, a kind of anemic writing of sorts

the question is, what words might be trapped within those boards, that so many boats moved up and down, into and from the water

what stories would they tell?

today I went back and did more...

now to see what I might launch