Redecorating

As you can tell I'm making some changes on my blog. My intention was to update my website, but I'm not quite ready to do that and I've recently discovered some of the new (new to me, anyway) widgets and add ons. There may be some redundancy while I try out new features, for example overlapping in the links and blog links.

Let me know how you like it or which widgets you find most helpful.

Small Work: Cypress Grove Point Lobos

Katherine Kean Cypress Grove watercolor 3 x 4"

It's already time again to bring new work in to the gallery. This past month has gone quickly. Thankfully, Cole is starting to feel and look a little bit better. He has come out of his hiding place way in the back of the closet where I put some thick towels to make him more comfortable and he more or less slowly follows me around. He still isn't eating or drinking on his own and having to keep up with taking care of that by hand is keeping me on a very short leash with trying to time every trip out to an hour or less. That wasn't too difficult this past week or so, because I've had a cold that kept me home anyway and not doing much except sneezing and coughing and using up every tissue in the house. With all of this my studio time has been very limited, but I am back on track this week. I have two paintings in their final stages and two started and today I finally got around to updating portfolio pages. Hopefully a website update will soon follow.

I'm bringing the diminuitive watercolor above for the ever changing North Gallery, at TAG. It's a sketch from the Cypress Grove in Point Lobos State Park. In keeping with the times I've been focusing on presenting smaller, more affordable pieces.

Happy Groundhog Day

It's unusual to see these three all hanging out together. The sudden togetherness is mostly due to the fact that one of them, Cole, the dark one, has recently become sick. He has chronic kidney failure complicated by dental problems and anemia. He has lost a scary amount of weight over the past two weeks. He had oral surgery last week to extract a tooth and they put a feeding tube in at that time. While his mouth heals I can give him water every hour, food every four hours, and medication every twelve hours, which, as squeamish as I am, is much easier with the tube. He spent most of this past weekend hiding in the closet, although some time during the night he managed to find his way to the bedroom and jump up on the bed on his own power, because when I woke up this morning he was sleeping next to me. As a very independent outdoor cat - known for his amazing hunting skills, it's unusual to have Cole indoors so much. His mother was homeless and he and his siblings were born in a field and he still has his wild habits. Using a litterbox is unfamiliar, but he's starting to catch on.

Bear, the Eskie in the picture above, as the one seemingly in charge of everything going on in the house is very curious about what's going on and a little too curious about the tube coming from the cat that smells a little bit like cat food. I am reminded all too well about the incident with the forgotten catheter a couple of years ago. While I am taking care of Cole he looks on with great concern and if I leave the room he comes after me, barking to let me know that Cole is in the closet!

In between trips to the vet I got this painting started, which I'll continue to work on between feedings:

Malibu Creek: After the Rain, Digital Print

Katherine Kean Malibu Creek: After the Rain watercolor 3.75 x 6.76"

This abstracted little watercolor was painted on sight at Malibu Creek on a Saturday morning after a very heavy rain. Malibu Creek is usually, in my experience, a slow moving creek, more of a reflecting pool than a raging river. But on this day it was rushing along and carrying loads of debris; branches and leaves being carried off in the fast, turbulent, current. It was cold and I was working quickly and just as I finished it started to rain.

The original watercolor sketch - a page torn from my Aquabee sketchbook - is hanging in my house, framed with the spiral binder holes showing, acknowledging the immediacy of the moment. There is something about it, the size, the motion, or maybe the the torn spiral binder holes, that has made me want to hang onto it, so I've never offered it for sale. However, a matted and framed archival giclee print is currently available at TAG Gallery.

This is an "open" edition, by the way. I've only made one print of this (so far), but I may make more. I don't really comprehend the point of a limited edition digital print. The idea of having a limited edition does apply, in my mind, if the printing process involves an actual plate, like a woodcut, for example. During the printing process using an actual physcial plate the printing process does wear the plate down, limiting the number of prints that can be made, thus a limited edition is a way of preserving the quality of the print. Also, the closer to the beginning of the process the print is, the better the quality, so the number of the print has real meaning. In a digital print there is no plate and theoretically an endless number of prints could be made with no loss of quality to the image. Furthermore if an image is in high demand why would an artist want to put a limit on their potential sales of that image? So, there. That's my rant on limited edition digital prints.

Foothill Artists

My neighborhood is starting to feel a bit to me like an art colony. Within the past year two artists have moved to my locale. One is Danielle Eubank, a fabulous painter of waterscapes, who is incidentally having an opening this weekend at Found Gallery. The other, a painter I have long admired, as well as a great graphic designer, Melissa Reischman, just moved nearby recently with her husband. She's actually walking distance - at just over a mile, although I haven't made the trek yet. However, there have been rumors of sketching expeditions. There are a handful more scattered in the hills who have lived here about as long as I have, including Alan Wolfson, an amazing sculptor of gritty miniature urban environments.

To round out the picture the McGroarty Art Center is just down the street. The art center, pictured below, was once the home of John McGroarty, who was at one time poet laureate for California and is now the setting for various classes, from ceramics, to drawing, to dance.

"Works" Opening

The opening of TAG's Group Exhibit "Works For Everyone" was Saturday evening. I am happy that so many friends showed up. It was fun to chat and catch up - even though I had just seen some of them over the holidays - life can change that fast that there is always some news to share. I was positioned behind the catalogue table for most of the evening so it was hard to get photos, especially after it became packed with people, but I did take a couple, which I've posted below.

Each of 40 artists had one piece in the exhibit making quite a diverse showing. The exhibit stays up through January 31st.

Mise En Place

I just learned this term - mise en place - while reading a cooking blog. It is a French term, defined by the Culinary Institute of America (according to Wikipedia), that means everything in it's place. It's what you see when you watch a cooking demonstration and see that everything is already prepared and laid out ahead of the actual cooking. Everything is measured, chopped, sifted, and so on, and cooking utensils are clean and ready to go. It makes the process seem so much more effortless and flowing.

It got me to thinking about studio practices and how well the concept might transfer and at what place preparation and forethought, spontaneity and creativity intersect. When I'm working with encaustics or watercolor I know that I spend a lot more time in preparation, mainly because both mediums set so quickly. That means laying out a palette - in watercolor waking up the colors with water so that they are ready to use, as well as stretching the paper, wetting and laying out the brushes, sponges, and whatever else is used to apply the paint, and making sure plenty of clean water is on hand. With encaustic preparation involves getting out specialized tools, many of which need to be plugged in and warmed up. The paint also needs to be brought to melting point. In oils I plan to have the right size and proportioned canvases or boards ready ahead of time and to have paint on hand, within reason, but since the drying process is slower preparation doesn't have the same intensity for me, at least not until later on in the process. Then I find, in the heat of the moment, it's imperative to be able to have exactly the right color and brush at the tip of your fingers.

Anyway, something to think about while I paint the studio walls this week.


Update: I have learned from a reader from France that "mise en place" is not a French term, but an American term coming from France that seems to translate more accurately as a verb: "an action to fix things in place."