Little synaptic sparks of memory

I've had quite a surge of inspiration/impetus to paint lately, but of course, the nature of such things is that they ebb and flow, wax and wane. And now it has waned a bit (in part because I have new painting ideas, but must gesso more muslin to get started... puts the brakes on a bit).


Tonight, to fill the void of inspiration, and the time between coats of gesso, I've gone back to working on the second Hemlock Semiconductor commissioned painting. I feel like it's going in a really nice direction, one that I didn't have much trouble picking back up on even though it's been a little bit since I've touched it. Plus, I have to say I welcome the technical challenge of this one in particular. The transparency, slight waxiness, and internal structure of the quartz still has me baffled -- I'm currently just glazing layers of semi-transparent color and hoping that something strikes me. And the polysilicon ingots, though much more of a predictable geometric and solid shape, still make me think hard due to their changing angles and the sheen of their surface. I've always had a hard time with surfaces and sheens in paintings; all of my textures come out the same. But I'll be very surprised if I haven't improved that particular skill by the time this one's finished.

Blocking in the silhouettes of the furthest-back ingots, I got a memory flash of Charles Demuth's "My Egypt," which I once wrote a paper on for Art History class. Something about the current flatness and linearity of the ingots, and their shape, similar to grain silos, and the general verticality, I suppose. Clearly not very similar paintings, but the connection made me smile.

Charles Demuth: "My Egypt," 1927, oil on composition board, 35 3/4 x 30 inches

George Saunders on allegiance to one's style

A writer-friend of mine, Casey Plett, turned me on to this project a classmate of his at Columbia is working on called The Days of Yore. It's a collection of interviews with various writers (and a few artists, musicians, etc., but mostly writers) about the days before they were famous/acclaimed and whatnot. It's fairly run-of-the-mill content-wise, but has this 'talking shop' feeling that is generally lacking from more public-interest type interviews. After all, it's writers talking to writers, so the combination of articulative skill and a deep connection with the creative process results in a pretty successful finished product. (I feel like I get more out of these writer-to-writer conversations than I would get out of an equivalent artist-to-artist interview specifically because of the skill of articulation that writers necessarily have... We visual artists are not necessarily the best of wordsmiths, let's admit it.)

Anyway, the most recent installment, interviewing George Saunders (who to be quite honest I've never heard of) included this statement, which struck me as being particularly relevant to my current style/subject shift: "...At any given moment, certain styles are going to seem more urgent and truthful. So the trick is not to get fossilized in something you’ve already done, out of some sense of allegiance to 'your' style."


In the most recent manic, figurative painting phase, I've been painting frantically at night, listening exclusively to Floater's Stone by Stone through headphones (headphones give a much more thoroughly insulated feeling than speakers in that they block out all ambient noise -- footsteps of A headed for the bathroom, dog nails across the wood floor -- and allow me to be contently straight-jacketed inside my own head), photographing the stages of each painting diligently, but otherwise avoiding looking at them. Especially in daytime. During nighttime, I've decided, my mind accesses this whole other part of itself, and the resultant mind-hand coordination is way more direct.

Not that it means I have any idea where it's going. That's the motivation behind not looking at the work except when I'm working on it. Trying to not second-guess myself. Trying to let my gut have its way with the world.

Toward a new figuration, I suppose.

I may be working figuratively again. That is, if I wasn't already before...

I'm still not clear on the nomenclature regarding style in the art world. Does figurative mean that one's work necessarily involves the figure? (The human figure??) Is all other work dealing with things from reality simply representational? What about work dealing with things that don't necessarily exist in reality, but could? Is that surrealism, or is that an art-historical term reserved for Dali and crew? Perhaps it's a matter of capitalization, surrealism versus Surrealism.

Anyway, I may be painting figuratively works with people in them for the first time in quite a while. I've been having the urge to, but putting it off or denying it because "I don't paint figurative work." But I paint from my gut, so those urges are all I've got. If I can't listen to myself, that doesn't leave me with much.

Brick and blue: a studio palette

The studio has been in some state of remodel/redesign since I moved in. No surprise there. Recently I've been working on pulling up the carpet (lots of carpet glue; slow work) and painting the floor, and generally making the space feel lighter and more finished. Hemming and hawing over colors...

For a while, sections have been a pretty strong yellow. "Butternut Squash." The thought was that, since it's a basement space with very little natural light, it needed some pretty intense color therapy to not be a depressing cave. But it turns out, it's just too overwhelming. Oppressively yellow.

Once again I start collecting paint chips. I have a whole ziploc baggie somewhere with probably a full pound of little cut out samples, but I have to start fresh for each project. This time around, the focus was mainly on blue... with a few samples of persimmon, coral (a color that's been on my mind for a while now).

The floor is going an almondy, warm white. Something bright, but not stark, with a satin finish. With only about a sixth of the floor (if that much) painted so far, it's already brighter, feels more like a legitimate space. But in need of color.

My attention has lingered frequently on the remnants of the old chimney that comes down through the middle of my space. My dad says remove it; it would open up the space so much more. And that's true, but there's something about it that I love. Between that and the dark, exposed beams, it becomes my own little (underground) New York warehouse art loft. (I've been looking for ways to restore it that don't involve caustic chemicals... have yet to find anything satisfactory.)

So, from there, I've come to a potential palette of antique brick and some sort of pale, warm or dusty blue. Not too primary, not too teal... something nuanced. Then, to Flickr for some inspiration in that vein:

Screenprinting for the DIY Bride - April 3rd

I'm teaching a small hands-on workshop on silk screening your own wedding invitations, and there's still time to sign up!

Wedding costs can really add up, and invitations are no exception. In this class, you will learn how to use silkscreen printing to make your own hand-printed wedding invitations. Get exactly the invitations you want – at a fraction of the cost!

In the first part of this class, we will discuss materials. What do you need? What can you do without? Which corners can you cut and still get a good final product? And where can you get it all (plus, how much of it do you already have)?

In the second part, each participant will get hands-on experience with the entire printing process. You will leave with a variety of cards and sample invitations, the experience and confidence to start on your own wedding invitations!

I'll be bringing everything we need to start printing. Just bring your crafty self!

Saturday, April 3rd
12-3pm
Cost: $45.00

Contact the Portland Paper Zone to sign up: (503) 233-2933
1136 South East Grand Avenue
Portland, OR 97214

From Endings Come New Beginnings

I finally finished my commissioned painting. After months of hemming, hawing, loving, hating, holding on too tight, procrastinating out of fear of messing it all up, and taking leaps -- and despite predictions to the contrary -- it's done.

And I made a video so you can see it come together!



But now there's the trepidation (and excitement, of course) of a new blank canvas.

Spring Cleaning & Truck Fund Sale!

As I had mentioned previously, I'm again working on reorganizing, rearranging, and cleaning out my studio. An early spring cleaning to go with the early spring we're having 'round these parts.

Then this weekend, the transmission in my truck tried to jump ship entirely. So, 120 miles and a tow dolly later, it's in the shop until scrape together enough to have it repaired.

Both of those motives have resulted in a massive clearance sale of a ton of work from my student days! I've listed quite a few pieces on my Etsy storefront, and will keep doing so as fast as I can dig them out and get them photographed. Your chance to own a Carly Bodnar original at a steal!

Some of my favorites...

I'm also offering bulk discounts and reduced total shipping for purchases of more than one sale painting.

Plus, if you haven't been to my storefront in a while, be sure to check out the paintings and drawings that have resulted from my collaboration with New York City writer Casey Plett!