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Archive for the ‘art’ Category
In college I read Virgiania Wolfes’ essay A room of one’s own where she wrote: “a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction”. As I remember the idea was that if women were to be writers they needed to have access to the same resources and space that men were given at the time.
As a mother, I struggle with having something of my own. There are no spaces in my home that are not shared (or invaded) by kids and kid stuff. How many times have I crawled into my lovely bed and find a hot wheels car, stuffed animal or some other toy? My purse, car, coat pockets, and counters all show evidence that a kids was here. The sketch book I carry with me daily has some random drawings and writings done by these two little people I live with.
Of course I love being the mamma to these two, and most of the time I love finding evidence of their presence. But, I don’t have a space to work, to craft, to paint, to leave something out to come back to later. I share an office with my husband who gets a bit cranky when my piles of stuff encroach on his space And, it’s hard to get real crazy with paint when your computer keyboard is right under your canvas.
So, I claimed a spot in my garage. Originally I had a big folding table which was a loaner from a friend of my husband’s, so I kept it covered and tried to be careful. Then today my hubby tells me that someone in the neighborhood had a free dining table on their curb. He immediately regretted mentioning this to me when I got the “crazy gleam” in my eye. So I cajoled him into taking his truck to get it for me.
Introducing Emily’s Studio!
This table is solid wood, and heavy! The neighbor’s kids had already drew on the surface so it’s in perfect state for me. The extra leaf makes a nice little shelf on top of the table.
“Studio” may be a bit lofty considering it’s in the garage next to the furnace and hubby’s jeep. But I decided since I am an “artist” I now have a “studio”.
So now I have a room of my own. That I share with the husband and the garage and the cars and the kids. But I can paint and splatter to my heart’s content.
I also have a space for the kids to sit and paint with me
go to this site and create your own
Emily Hoadley’s Artist Statement
Through my work I attempt to examine the phenomenon of Goofy as a methaphorical interpretation of both Geogia Okeefe and smiling.
What began as a personal journey of shitism has translated into images of chocolate and eyes that resonate with white people to question their own turquoiseness.
My mixed media her embody an idiosyncratic view of God, yet the familiar imagery allows for a connection between , kids and .
My work is in the private collection of Carlo Motoban who said ‘sweet!, that’s some real pretty Art.’
I am a recipient of a grant from Folsom Prison where I served time for stealing mugs and tie clips from the gift shop of The . I have exhibited in group shows at mcdonalds and , though not at the same time. I currently spend my time between my backyard and Berlin.
I just finished up my grueling research class and have a week before I start another class. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, it’s December!
In the meantime, went on a “team-building” golf date with my fellow teachers. I took lots of pictures and was mostly focused on the birds and landscape. There were several red-winged blackbirds flying about a few of the water features. I love how their yellow and red patches are hidden until they start flying.
I started a large experimental piece centered around the red-winged blackbird. This is on a 18×24 Arches watercolor block pad.
First, I taped off rectangles that loosely inspired by the idea of the golden ratio.
Then I started cutting out my inspiration pieces, a bird from a calendar, definition of a blackbird and image from a dictionary, along with some of the birch bark I have saved from my tree.
I have done some watercolor painting, here and there, collaged my images. And so far I’m liking it.
Right now, this is really making me happy. I like the paintings I’ve done and I haven’t yet decided if I will cut these into small pictures or frame this as one large collage. I like the idea of a large framed piece with the white spaces in between each scene.
Have a happy day.
In one of my more randomly inspired moments a month ago, I created a mission statement on my youtube account. As I looked at the videos I like, it’s pretty random stuff that really is what my life is about. Videos on art journals, painting, Lady Gaga, Glee, statistics, biology, chemistry, geology, funny and more. I remember reading somewhere a few years ago about writing a personal mission statement as an artist. So here’s mine.
This post by Kim Klassen here is a powerful message about getting out of our own way and to ‘just do it’.
“I’m busy, don’t have time to do ___________.”
“I say I can’t have homework to finish”
I say these things a lot and they are true. I am crazy busy, who in this world isn’t?
But as I re-read this post by Kim, I keep thinking, ya I’m busy but if I can’t make something, even a quick watercolor I feel empty and lost. Even when I take the time to create a quick card to mail I get happy. I like to make things, it makes me happy. And as I create those spaces inside me that were hurting or out of sync–they slip back into place.
It’s almost as though I’m a car getting a wheel alignment. And when I get a chance to get paints out get a brush dirty, I can feel those bruises on my heart healing.
The smell of gesso soothes my overwhelmed senses, drowning out other senses. And the more paint I get under my nails, staining my fingers, worked into my cuticles, the more I feel like I can breathe.
And after, when I can’t quite get all of the paint off of my fingers, I feel a secret smile, because I am carrying with me my art talisman.
Last week I was mentioning that I was stuck. I had looming homework deadlines and I was trying to create a valentine piece for “Valentine for Aids” hosted for the last 18 years by a funky, artsy coffee house downtown. I’ve been invited the last 4 years to submit. I should have said no, passed on this opportunity. But I feel that I have given up a lot of things I really love in order to juggle my family, job, and school.
Here is my final piece:
I had this collection of things sitting on my work table for nearly a week, moving them, stacking them, unable to break my need to use them!
The photo is one of my great uncle and his wife and is part of a stash of photos I found in the box that my grandma had given me before she died. What’s remarkable is the obvious affection there is between these two people, these are no staged, grim looking poses. These are candids of two people who loved each other. The story of them was a bit of a scandal and a mystery in the family I was told. I only have pieces of the story but she was nearly 20 years older than him and he was barely over 20. As I worked on this piece I thought about making a book about them and creating my own “memories” of them. This is an idea that I’m working on even now.
The coin purse is from a collection my father in law gave me when he was helping to clean out the house of an elderly neighbor who had no children.
Found items: memories made, and so memories found kept coming to my mind, these things were telling me the story of a couple on a special day and I could imagine the woman saving the leaves she found and pressing them in a book, saving his letters.
I could imagine it sitting on her dresser slowly aging as she remembered the time of this picture. I scratched in the wet top layers of the paint imagined memories she might have had of him, of their time together.
Overall, I really loved this piece. It’s a love story. As I went to the artist reception this week I had butterflies in my stomach, worried that my piece would be less art and more “craft”, or that it would stand out as so obviously bad compared to all of the other pieces.
But I went, alone as my husband had to take the girl to ballet and do something with the boy.
Even though I felt isolated and lonely, I wandered the shop to see all of the art displayed. And there, on the main wall at eye level was my piece, it looked lovely, and I got the same little thrill when I’ve seen something I’ve created on walls other than my own house.
It was unique, the colors were soft, and no other piece had a coin purse on it.
A few things you should know about me: I love birds, I love thrift stores, and I love to alter anything that will hold gesso!
So a while back I found this little 4×4 shadow box at my favorite thrift shop and it was half off the original price. I can also rarely resist a frame of any type that I can re-use.
At one time, I imagine it was quite loved by a soccer fan. One of my (many) quirks is that when I shop thrift stores I create little histories about the pieces that catch my eye; like the pile of commemorative plates I found on this same trip that I imagine came from a grandma’s house after she had to move out or passed away.
I pried the frame apart using my leather man tool and hammer. The hard part came when I tried to remove the soccer items, they were glued on so well I had to use a chisel and hammer to get them off! I would love to know what type of adhesive that was!
After cleaning it up I gave the entire piece of gesso then added ivory paint.
The background was a mix of papers, molding paste, and burlap with a painted bird nest and bird.
You’d never guess what it started it out as!
I love my oriental poppies. They bloom in the spring and they are such a bold, bright, unapologetic red flower that they make me very happy. To me they are what I want to be: bold, bright, unapologetic about who I am, no worried about what anyone thinks of me. Or what anyone thinks about what I look like, what my house looks like, or what art I’m making. I don’t know what it is about these red flowers, but they just seem to be showing off their bold selves with out a care in a world. I’ve taken many pictures of these flowers in various stages of bloom and I’ve always wanted to do a painting of these flowers that would do them justice. Not a soft, watercolor like I normally do. But a big, paint splattered, colorful piece of art.
I started this painting a couple of weeks ago. It sits on my piano, not framed or posed. Just big and paint splattered. And I think done.
I know it’s not to everyone’s taste and maybe some wouldn’t even look at it as art.
But I know what I feel when I look at these and I am not embarrassed to say, “Yes, I painted that.”
And now, I think I need to do another one: a single bloom, bigger, brighter.
Birds are on my mind a lot lately. When I sit down to journal, I always do a status update of the 2 finch nests. What I like about birds is their way of gathering found materials to create a nest that is strong enough to lay their eggs and keep them safe until they hatch. You don’t see birds looking for the latest pottery barn catalog, or watching some decorating show for new ideas. They stick to what they know: nest building. And they use what they find. A reminder to me that my home is not a sum of it’s coordinating pillows are fancy stuff. Making do with what I have, using what’s on hand instead of rushing to the store to get what I think I need.
One skill I have is gathering and collecting. If you could see the things I’ve collected and stored away for “some” day. Last weekend I found some of the little Jenni Bowlin bingo cards. I see these online and covet them thinking of the wonderful things I’d make if I had these. So I bought a little pack. Normally these would get looked at for a while, then put away for something “special”. But yesterday I was in a mood, and got to making stuff. My two little people were watching pbs and I was nearly manic with the need to make something, get a paintbrush out, dirty up my hands. I felt a little bad that I wasn’t doing something with my kiddies or being productive doing house work or homework. But I got over it pretty quick!
So here is a little bird book. Made from a few of my favorite bits of things I’ve been holding onto. Does it have a purpose? Not really, other than to be something little and pretty and in tones of ivory.
inside, small watercolor painting.