on a whim

some might think my fascination with the pilings along the Yukon River borders slightly on obsession

I suppose some might be right but...

 i won't be done with them until I am

and I'm not done yet

the image below, from December of '24 is my most favourite

spaced out, room to breathe

varying heights

beautiful texture and contrast... rough wood

light and dark grey

I could go on and on

late one night, reading a book about art and how inspiration can come at us, I saw a painting of the pilings...

floating in the distance of my thoughts I could see it clearly, as if it was hanging on the wall in the room

low drifts of yellow-tinged white, pale smudgy shadows here and there

the pilings, lightly textured, blocky... varying degrees of transparency, overlapping here and there

straight edges

the river, a slash of shining steel

the next morning on my worktable...

 a jar of mixed ink left over from the dip-dyeing escapade and a scrap of acrylic paper

some charcoal blocks nearby... on a whim, I picked up a brush

a bit of white on the bottom, a swish of pale blue near the top

holding my breath the whole time, not wanting to over-do 

the pilings were a different matter - with each flat spare stroke of the brush the urge to make them more realistic kept pushing through

I switched to charcoal, a tougher medium for me and did some with that - too dark, smudged them back, now too blurry - dratted soft edges!

back to the ink, then a dry brush

wipe it all off, try again

darker than I wanted and too many rough tops but the lack of detail made me smile

I left it for a few days 

the other day I decided to try practicing that slash of colour I was wanting for the river

I found a small stack of discarded paintings and drawings, flipped them over, grabbed a few different brushes and started 

bad, terrible, worse, wrong! yuck, sigh

on it went - different brushes made no difference... all I got were sold rectangles of grey-blue

found rougher paper, thickened the ink, dried my brush

tried again

better

yet thicker ink, an even drier brush and this time I used a low-quality rough, round brush, laid it flat on it's side and drew it quickly across the paper

got it!

a rough-textured uneven mark

before I could forget how I did it I grabbed the painting I had begun and did it again

straight across the whole of it, pilings and all

boom!

just as I had envisioned

well, not quite exactly... as I said, the pilings aren't quite as I had wanted - but now I've done this I can get them less representational, I just have to resist the urge to add detail

I need to keep Anita Lehmann's admonishment in mind - "only three more moves", when the main part of the work is done 

just three

as if the scruffy tops of the pilings wasn't enough I had to go and add the dark cracking snow shelf from the photo below

thinking somehow they needed it to anchor them 

I never thought to take a before and I can't say it looked better then than now but I wish I hadn't rushed to make it a picture

it wasn't meant to be a resolved work - just an example, another way of rendering them, one for the sketchbook

which it is, but one with a caveat

"stop before you think you're done"!

take care,

Jillayne

resisting resistance

twice in my artistic journey I've been overwhelmingly captivated by something I've seen whilst out in nature

something that inspires me so greatly it grabs hold of my creative thinking and refuses to let go

the first, a frigid early spring morning, a few days after a wind storm blew through our town

branches yanked from nearby trees lay strewn over the lakeshore, many frozen in place, caught in the shore ice that melted and re-formed daily as part spring's fickle rhythm

the second time was a phenomenon also caused by wind - the icy windrows that formed on the surface of the shore ice of the Yukon River during an extremely windy snowstorm 

over the years I have worked with both of these events though the windrows along the Yukon River continue to hold my attention two years later

in part because there is so much I want to explore and so many mediums I'd like to do that in

and then there's the growing pile of already begun explorations that need finishing

this week I finally faced the one I began with... it has sat for almost two years now, an overwhelming fear of messing it up holding me back

I was so pleased with the effect of the addition of tiny textural stitches scattered here and there near the main lines that ran from one side of the cloth to the other and though it was going well and with each area completed my delight grew and grew I was still sure eventually I would do something irrevocable that ruin the work entirely

and so it sat

this week I finally got fed up with the silliness of it all, picked it up and finished the rest of the textured stitching over the course of the next two evenings

I want to finish it as a pouch, but as this was meant to be a sample for my sketchbook the fabric is rather small

a strip of ink dipped linen, also from two years ago has been attached to the lower edge and solved the size issue nicely... I have just a few last stitches to add along the edge and I'll be able to bring this to completion

finally

interestingly, the more I turned over the work to secure the thread the more I came to like the stitching on the reverse... it was a constant effort whilst doing the stitching of the ice lines to keep a random, irregular look to them which I never really did achieve

but on the wrong side it looks exactly like what I had wanted

there are one or two more iterations of this in my future, and with at least the first one I'll be working the stitching from back to front 

and both will be made a good deal bigger

now that I'm pushing myself through my ever-present fear of messing things up perhaps I can make some headway in breaking my habit of always working too small

Take care,

Jillayne

serenDIPity

working in the studio for the sheer enjoyment of it often produces intriguing things

after months of purpose-driven work there has been an urge to mix it up a bit - this week a journey back to dipping dampened cloth into ink and watching the magic happen

hand-spun hand-woven linen in the neighbourhood of 115 years old

a mixture of Payne's grey and carbon black ink, diluted 

and a wide mouth canning jar

unrolling the linen later that day was a bit shocking... it had taken the ink in such an amazing way, the coarseness of the thread and the weave directing it to create spiky dark trees along the length of it

Yukon trees

immediately an old family photo came to mind, of my great-uncle's cabin on a lake not far from Whitehorse

water, a banked shoreline and again those spiky northern trees

 this one, taken by a friend a few years ago... the Yukon River on a misty August morning, just at the moment she heard my plane bringing me back to Salmon Arm taking off

art and life... 

wandering in and out of the studio throughout the day, looking, thinking -  pondering this stitch or that thread, a strong desire to add some small places of definition

just enough to enhance, to nudge the imagery here and there

nothing concrete yet but... 

it was a good day