Back in the studio

I drove back from Ohio on Sunday, arriving home in the evening. It was a long drive. I had attempted to set up a couple of appointments while I was in Ohio. None of them worked out, partially due to the winter weather. I felt restless. I like it when my days are full. On Friday morning, I left Alliance and drove to Youngstown and visited the Butler Institute. It was decked out for the holidays. It is a wonderful museum of American art. If you are ever in that area, you must go there. I went back to Akron. Denis Conley hosts a get together at the gallery every Friday afternoon and into the evening. We went to the Diamond Grille again. Instead of going into the dining room, Denis opened a side door that lead into the kitchen. The kitchen staff knows him. Denis sang an excerpt from an Italian opera aria. The staff loved it and applauded enthusiastically as did I.

On Saturday, I sat in my van in front of Denis' house and drew on an etching plate. I frequently travel with a copper plate to work on. I don't like it when my time is empty. I did a portrait of his house and neighborhood (see photograph). There were only a few hours for me to work so I had to work quickly. Looking at the plate, I could see that my lines were alive with energy. I try to draw this way. Will they retain this character when I return to my studio and place the copper plate in the acid bath? Working quickly does not always mean working well. My concentration was pretty complete, and even if it is not a masterpiece, the act of creating can be as important as seeing a result. When I work, I can sense that I am not breathing. I don't pass out so I guess it is okay. As I worked from my subject, I think about how I will proceed after etching the lines. Building up layers of value using soft ground seems to be a good solution. All of this will need to be done back in Wisconsin, however. I will etch the lines deeply, layer softground values over the lines and then use sandpaper to soften those values, hopefully creating subtle gradations in my shading. The darkest areas will be done with drypoint...this would include the darkest shadows as well as some accents.

I went to The Nervous Dog coffee shop and did some correspondence...all of it hand written. I don't have a laptop, and I value writing to people. Email is fine but to a point. It was near the end of the work day when I finally got to Denis' gallery. I had bought tickets to see the Cleveland Orchestra that evening. We saw the Messiah. Linnea Nereim, who plays bass clarinet for the orchestra, met us after the concert at Sergios, a restaurant near the concert hall. Denis and Linnea had not met before and hit it off immediately. Denis is an orchestra subscriber and could remember and discuss concerts from years before. I could tell that Linnea was impressed as was I. I took things in. I can be a good listener. Classical music is a subject that I admit to not knowing a lot about, but I was fascinated by their conversation. I thought about asking them if they ever listened to Duke Ellington, but decided against it.

Sunday morning I cooked breakfast for the two of us and departed for Wisconsin in pouring rain, the temperatures flirting with freezing. The rain had subsided when I reached Indiana. The drive went smoothly. The Midwestern blizzard had come and gone, but the snow that needed to be shoveled waited for me. It was good to be back.

Mount Union College

I am in my hotel near Mount Union College in Alliance, Ohio. I had planned on leaving Wisconsin on Wednesday morning, arriving at my destination on Thursday in time for the afternoon reception. Looking online at the weather forecasts told me that I needed to head out of Wisconsin sooner than that. Wanting to avoid the coming winter storm, I left home on Tuesday morning's slippery highways. The driving was difficult. The internet had only promised me snow and ice. If things did not improve by the time I got to Janesville (an hour southeast of Madison), I would cancel the trip. Traffic loosened up and after an hour of stop and go driving, I was moving along at 50 mph. I drove through Chicago on I-90. I could sense the storm's pulse near me. The sky looked heavy with snow. The Indiana and Ohio Turnpikes were clear. I was ahead of the storm. I stopped at a rest stop a half hour before Toledo where I had a hotel reservation. After using the restroom, I stepped outside. It was raining, and it was freezing on contact. I called Denis Conley, my friend from Akron. I drove past Toledo, sacrificing the security of my waiting hotel room and pushed on to Akron. It was 8PM when I arrived. Denis was waiting at his gallery. The rain had subsided, but when we left the gallery, it had returned in all its glory. Rain had become sleet. We went to the Diamond Grille and had steaks and wine. And then to his house for the night. Luigi, Denis' cat was waiting for us. I fell asleep and woke up to the sound of ice hitting the roof.

In the morning the wind was strong. I was weary from the drive, and I slept until 9AM. Denis went to work. I worked on the talk that I was going to give in Alliance. I went to the gallery in the afternoon. George Roush helps Denis in the gallery. He is an oil painter who I had not met before. They needed to hang George's abstract paintings at Crave, a local restaurant in the evening. Denis has a great aesthetic for doing this. The dining room made a statement. We had dinner and went back to Denis' house. The ice had subsided and it was simply cold and windy with horizontal snow.

Thursday morning brought the preparations for my drive to Alliance and Mount Union College, which is about an hour south. I spent additional time on my lecture. It was important to me, but there is always the nagging insecurity drawing a mental blank and the talk being a flop. I had purchased an inexpensive olympus digital recorder so I could hear my own voice. Listening to my voice, I could see where the weaknesses lay. I had initially written out the entire lecture and was going to read it. Thinking about my etchings, I realized this was a false approach. I creat my etchings on location and extemporaneously. My speech had to be done in a similar manner. I would put away the text and just speak. I think it worked.

When I arrived at the college, an art faculty member recognized me walking through the art gallery, and greeted me warmly. My work had been hung beautifully in the Crandall Gallery. I can be quite critical, but there was nothing to criticize....except my work...I can't help that. The work in the show had previously hung in my exhibit at the Butler Institute of American Art in Youngstown. I could see a dozen things in my etchings that I would have done differently now. Will I ever get over the critical self analysis thing? The closing reception was catered. The food was delicious...it was elegant. They did it for me. I was touched. Even though it was on the eve of finals, students showed up. Faculty members, Margo Miller and Tim Hallaran took me out to dinner after the reception. It is a busy time of year. They were tired, but it never showed in their kindness to me. The night ended with conversation. The hotel room awaited my return.

My etchings at Mount Union College

I am getting ready for a trip next week to Ohio. I had an exhibit earlier in the year at the Butler Institute of American Art which is located in Youngstown, Ohio. At the reception were art faculty members from Mount Union College in Alliance, Ohio. They liked my work and invited me to have a showing there. When I returned to Ohio in July, I transported the etchings from the Butler Institute to Mount Union College. The exhibit was hung on November 3rd. I will drive to Alliance for a closing reception on December 10th. The reception will be from 4PM to 6PM. I will deliver a lecture, and will talk about how I began my art career. I think that I can offer some useful information to aspiring young artists. After the reception, I will pack up my framed etchings and transport them back to my Wisconsin studio. For more information about my exhibit at the Butler, please see my April 10, 2009 post entitled "Last chance to see it".

THE GIRL WITH THE CAT TATTOO

Weekends at my studio can be quiet. Blue Mounds is far enough from Madison that not many people consider it to be a destination. When I moved my studio into the upstairs of the opera house in 2001, Blue Mounds was even quieter. Two bars were the only other businesses on Main Street. The town had seen a better time. The paint on the opera house was falling off in sheets. It too had seen better days. Since I moved in here, the former hardware store turned apartment building across the street was renovated and converted into a Dharma center. The grocery store, across Main Street and at the far end of the block is now a Buddhist center. The empty bank which had been used for storage, has also been renovated and turned into a pilates center. I will tell you more about it another time. The addition of curb and gutter have also taken it from the look of bib overalls to khaki slacks. Even though the town has become "respectable", it can still be a pretty quiet place on the weekends.

So, when I received an email from Angela, requesting to visit my studio on Saturday, it was something unusual, but not unheard of. Angela had contacted me a couple of months previous to her visit to request permission to use one of my etchings. While people do occassionally request to use one of my works, this request was one that I had never encountered before. Angela wanted to have one of my cat etchings tattooed onto one of her legs. After digesting her request (I have never been asked this before), I wrote back to her and told her that I would be honored. Her visit on Saturday was centered around showing me the tattoo. I was not sure what to expect when she arrived. Would it be one of many tattoos on her? Would my reserved upbringing cause me an uncomfortable feeling gazing at this woman's leg?

Angela arrived with her friend, Beth. The tattoo was done beautifully, and she told me that it was her first tattoo. For some reason I thought of the book "The girl with the dragon tattoo", which I had read during the summer. I could envision Angela as being the books heroine, Lisbeth Salander. I doubt that there is any parallel there at all, but needless to say, I was flattered that she chose one of my works for her tattoo.

A day in Decorah, Iowa

I traveled to Decorah, Iowa yesterday. I had several things that I wanted to accomplish. The drive takes two and one half hours and takes me through rural southern Wisconsin crossing the Mississippi River at Prairie Du Chien. I called Vesterheim, the Norwegian American Museum to try to set up an appointment to show them my etchings. Since both of my parents were Norwegians, it seemed like a good idea to make their curatorial staff aware of my work. I left a phone message. Upon arriving in Decorah, I went to Agora Arts, which is a gallery on Water Street in Decorah. I have to say that it was not an encouraging visit. Many of the works that I had consigned there were returned to me. It is my hope when consigning my work, that the pieces will sell. When they are returned unsold, the question becomes,"Now what?" It is inventory that I had planned not on having. I have had a good relationship with the gallery so there were no hard feelings involved. At Gail's suggestion (Gail is the owner of Agora), I stopped at The Perfect Edge, which is a frame shop in Decorah. I introduced myself to Anja, the owner. She had framed a number of my works over the years. It is possible that I will have a show there sometime next year.

I went to Phelps Park. If you read one of my earlier blog entries, you saw that I have been working on an etching at this location. It is important to me to work from my source material so time spent on the plate is reserved for when I am able to stop, sit down and work while looking at the subject. The vantage point is precarious, but I worked it out. I decided to proceed using sugar lift, which is india ink mixed with sugar and applied with a brush. It went well, but my time was limited and it required my complete concentration. It ended when it began to rain. The rain can disolve the water soluble india ink so I had to scramble for the safety of my van.

My cell phone rang. The curator at Vestserheim is interested in looking at my work, but would have to make arrangements for another day. I dropped off my business card for her.

Leaving Decorah, I drove to Bluff Country Artists Gallery in Spring Grove, Minnesota. I delivered several of my etchings to them. Leaving Spring Grove, I proceeded on secondary roads back into Iowa and the town of Lansing. Lansing is located on the Mississippi. I have mentioned before that it is largely undiscovered by tourism. I met Fred Easker an oil painter from Cedar Rapids who has a place in Lansing. We had dinner together and talked about art and our lives. The drive back to home in Wisconsin was in the dark. It was nearly midnight when I got home.