Inspiration and Unconscious Messages

 I recently began a new online adventure: A class on Domestika. com: "Illustrated Life Journal: A Daily Mindful Practice," a course by Kate Sutton. 

Domestika courses generally begin with the instructors introducing themselves, their inspirations and artists or works that they find inspiring. They then ask students to do the same. I

I first wrote about artists who inspire me, then turned to the more (for me) difficult and introspective task of stating what inspires me. In writing this I realized that sometimes my art and the process of making it inspires me by sending secret messages. Here is what I shared.

What inspires me?

Weather, scents, patterns, dark things (including anger), misty things, surprising bright color, getting lost in making, anything that catches my eye or my heart…and many things I don’t consciously perceive until I see them on the woodblock, metal plate' Sometimes I don't recognize them until they show up on the paper I have been “working” or have rolled through a press. 

Recently I covered the boards of a handmade book with what I had considered an “unsuccessful” print that I pulled a couple of years ago. There was no writing on the print, but there were some thick linear un-inked areas. After I cut and pasted the print to the front cover, an un-inked message jumped out at me near the bottom of the book. It said, “Oui.” Yes. 

The little book, covered by my "unloved" print received many compliments. I am now inspired to keep on making prints and trust that they will find their useful place in the world.

A New Work in the RESIST Series

While working on the rough draft of my new artist book dealing with my connection to various trees, I decided to complete another of the prints in my RESIST series. The result is RESIST: for your trees.

I collaged laser images of my own hand and a hand-drawn tree over an existing print. The print was originally made from my own photo, a photopolymer plate, and Charbonnel etching ink on Arches Cover paper. I wanted the original print to show through so I laser copied my hand and the hand-drawn tree onto Morgan Kozo paper (which is thinner than a tissue but very strong) that I had taped to ordinary copier paper. Some of the Kozo creased, but basically, my copier was fine and I found the creasing interesting. The original print had some chine colle' on it so I collaged the Kozo laser copies over the top. 

I wanted to add the concept of a family tree so I lifted a rough image from a laser copy of a photo taken of me as a child at my grandparents' home in Spooner, Wisconsin with Mod Podge and collaged the lifted image onto the print. 

Finally, I abstracted some of the forms from the original photo on the original print with colored pencils.

"Resist" to become a series

In April I wrote about one of ten photopolymer etchings that seemed to be in transition. I was unsure whether the print was finished. It wasn't, and isn't, but now I know how I will finish it. The ten prints are well on their way to being a series called "Resist" with ten different ideas that are variations on the series name. 

In September I wanted to enter a women's exhibit in a California gallery. I pulled out another print of the ten "Resist" prints. It became "Resist: Red." I played around with a drypoint image of a fist, but it wasn't working and then I misplaced the plate. (I can't wait to see where I use it if it ever resurfaces)!

 Finding the scale to be good, I laser copied my own fist using only black ink onto "paper" made of banana fiber. With that image, scraps of the fiber, and a small piece of blue Asian tissue, I finished the print. 

On the morning that I learned of Ruth Bader Ginsburg's death, I wrote a dedication on the back of the print, "Shine on, RBG. Remembering your life, your work, and your courage."

On the Wildest of Horses--Natural and Carved

I have loved horses for as long as I can remember. When I lived in Menomonee Falls, our house backed up to a small quarter horse farm where the young horses were put in the pasture adjacent to our land when they were separated from their mothers. The farmer's dog was a black lab and so was ours. I spent wonderful hours watching the young horses, who were attracted by the sight and probably the smell of our dog. Did I mention we had an apple tree near the pasture?

My love for horses extended to wild horses when I moved west, and even to the beautifully carved (around 1920) carousel horses in the historic Elitch Gardens amusement park in my Denver neighborhood.

Last year the Historic Elitch Theatre group suggested that I make art celebrating Historic Elitch Theatre's 130th anniversary. Although the amusement park was moved into the Platte River valley some years ago the historic theatre and the carousel shelter stayed in my neighborhood. I received permission and photographed the two buildings and began working on ideas. 

Nothing really inspired me until I realized that what I wanted to work on was the idea that the carousel horses from both the first and second carousels in Mary Elitch's gardens had been relocated, the first to Kit Carson County and the Second to the current Elitch Gardens along Denver's River Mile. Four of the steeds from the earlier carousel had even been stolen from their new home, found in Kansas, and returned...in horse trailers!

Cattle rancher Dayton O Hyde's wild mustangs had been relocated by Mr. Hyde from an auction pen where they had been headed for slaughter. He fell in love with them and created a ranch near the Black Hills of South Dakota for American and Spanish mustangs to live out their wild lives.

In my universe, the beautifully carved animals on the Philadelphia Toboggan Company carousels that graced Mary Elitch's original gardens (and still prance in circles today) are spiritually connected to the beautiful and free wild horses on the ranches like the late Mr. Hyde's. And I want my works of art to embody that spirit.

I will ask permission to take photographs of the carousel in today's Elitch Gardens amusement park, which is closed because of COVID-19. With my carousel photos, my wild horse photos, and my photos of the (empty) original carousel shelter and the historic theatre for reference and inspiration, I'll see if I can make something that embodies that spirit. 

Two wild mustangs on Dayton O Hyde's ranch in South Dakota

What's in a Name?

I'm thinking of renaming this monotype. Is there any reason I shouldn't? I've liked this print ever since I made it last year but I could never quite get it to tell me its name. It has appeared in two exhibits with the title "Messy as life." When one of my printmaking friends viewed it recently, she looked at the print, and at the title and said, "hmmm!" I told her I had never really liked the title and am thinking of renaming it "Virus." She responded, "I can see that." 

So I am thinking that when it comes down I'll rechristen it "Virus." I ask again, " is there any reason I shouldn't?" 

"Messy as Life", perhaps soon to be "Virus" is a monoprint made with Charbonnel oil-based etching inks on archival printmaking paper. It is 20 inches tall by 16.5 inches wide, framed.

   

Some random thoughts on the day after Juneteenth

Most of my formal education took place in public schools in Wisconsin, and Nebraska, and in a private liberal arts college in Illinois. I had never heard of Juneteenth until I moved to Denver, Colorado where I have now resided for more than two-thirds of my life. I had also never heard about what happened on the "Black Wall Street" in Tulsa, Oklahoma before I came west. Before I began interacting frequently with friends who don't look like me, I believed I was well educated.

Denver is more integrated than any of my previous homes, with a vibrant multicultural middle class...and a past power structure laced with and sometimes controlled by members of the Ku Klux Klan. For as long as I can remember Denver's cultural life has been ablaze with mainstream celebrations of Juneteenth, Cinco de Mayo, Gay Pride, the Cherry Blossom Festival, etc. Yet our neighborhoods and schools seem to be getting more segregated.

Across the street from my condo is a Baptist church, down the street to the south is a large mosque and up the street to the north are the Jewish Community Center of Denver, the Greek Orthodox Basilica, and a large Lutheran church: all in a row. The nearby Fairmount cemetery's Jewish section has been messed with in the past couple of years as has the mosque.

As I write, there is a committee of citizens trying to change the name of a Denver community from Stapleton, which honors Benjamin Franklin Stapleton, a five-term mayor of Denver and a high-ranking member of the Klan. It is reported that Stapleton began drawing away from the Klan in 1925 and subsequently worked to lessen its power in the police force. It is complicated.

About a mile to the east of my home is the City of Aurora, the third-largest city in Colorado. Last night a 17-year old boy was shot at the Juneteenth celebration. He was pronounced dead at the hospital. I don't know any other details. He was at what is usually a joyous celebration of the end of slavery. He was shot and killed. I am making no assumptions about his words, activities, or his race. I don't know who shot him or why. But I grieve for him, for his family, for us all.

Elaine de Kooning Speaks

May you experience "a glorious tough originality" in these challenging times.

Painter Elaine de Kooning made the statement shown below after moving to New Mexico. If you've spent any time in that enchanting state, you understand exactly what she was talking about.

I've been reading biographies of Elaine de Kooning, most recently "A Generous Vision" by Cathy Curtis. What a fascinating life, presented in a creative and unusual biography.

I have been interested in this artist's work since some of her large paintings were included in an exhibit of women's art at the Denver Art Museum a couple of years ago. Then I saw one of her small works on the wall of my Friend, Barbara H.  As a young art student Barbara H met “Elaine de K" in New York. The artist, who was as generous as she is said to have been, gave my friend the little piece that has a place of honor in her Denver condo.

I always knew that artist "Elaine de K” had an unusual marriage to Willem de Kooning, that she had painted before she met her husband and after they parted ways. I didn't realize that she was also an important writer, covering other artists, their processes, and their work for years. I imagine the artists of her time were thankful that she wrote about them. I am thankful that people have chosen to write about her art, her courageous personality, and her connection to the lives of the other artists of her time.

Go to your studio and make something

The past few weeks have been pretty challenging in most aspects of my life. 

When I want to scream in frustration, I try to remember a favorite saying of one of my art teachers. Whenever a student expressed frustration with events of their day, he would say "go into your studio and make something."

When the little voice in my head replayed that advice one afternoon, I pulled out a sheet of multimedia paper, watercolors, India ink, a brush, a fine-tipped drawing pen, and water. After cutting the paper to 8.5 by 11 inches. I folded it into eight equal rectangles and began painting. I made a two-sided copy of my painting onto regular paper. I folded it, cut it, nested the pages, and saddle-stitched it. Ta-Dah! Below is my first ever 'zine...a suggestion from an earlier Zoom roundtable. 

Grandma's Hoosier Cabinet

After Lizette Elizabeth Alt Beavin's funeral in 1968, her family gathered at her house near the church in Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin to clear out her possessions. Some of my relatives were expressing their passionate disagreement over what Grandma had left to whom. I was distressed and walked out back with my new husband to take a deep breath and try to calm myself.

Grandma's 1916 oak "Hoosier" lay in the ally. It had been dismantled and awaited large item pickup. At the time my husband and I were still in college, living in a small efficiency apartment in Naperville, Illinois. When we asked if we could rescue the Hoosier, we got a quizzical look. "What do you want with that old thing?! How will you get it to your apartment?!" we were asked.

We took the Hoosier to Illinois on the top of the 1955 Ford we had bought for $1. Now, more than 50 years later, Grandma's Hoosier has earned a place of honor in the history of our marriage.

In our Naperville efficiency apartment, the Hoosier was placed behind our hide-a-bed couch to make a small office where I could study before sunrise and husband could study well after the sun had set.

After my graduation, we moved to Dekalb, Illinois where I taught speech and drama on the fine arts team at Huntly Middle School, while my husband finished his degree. The Hoosier took up residence in our study as a desk and craft space.

We moved to Denver in 1970. Our little apartment in the old house on Pearl Street had a kitchen so small I could stand in the center and reach all its walls. The Hoosier was our only kitchen cabinet. I actually used the built-in flour and sugar bins, and I kneaded homemade bread dough on its pullout surface every Monday night.

Our first house, a Dutch colonial on Denver's Northside, had a dining room! The Hoosier became a china and linen cabinet. Our next house, a haunted 1911 Craftsman with Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired windows, had a country kitchen that welcomed the Hoosier which once again provided a perfect surface for baking prep and good storage for spices.

Today we live in an early 1970's condo on the Southeast side of town. Our all-season studio/sitting room/lanai is sunny and east-facing. The Hoosier rests neatly along the north concrete wall holding printmaking screens, woodblocks, and a variety of other "clean and dry" art supplies. Its white porcelain surface is nice for photographing small prints.

So we have disassembled and reassembled the Hoosier many times. It still has its penciled delivery instruction to my great grandfather, its meal plans for a young married woman in 1916, and a perpetual calendar with hearts and the initials of my Auntie Dorothy and her girlhood crush. My Hoosier is still beautiful.

Following Georgia O'Keeffe

I ordered Georgia O'Keeffe: Living Modern yesterday. It was the winner of the 2018 Dedalus Foundation Exhibition Catalogue Award. Now I have to wait two weeks for delivery.

A couple of years ago the Museum of Contemporary Art in Denver exhibited perhaps three of O'Keeffe's paintings alongside many works by other artists whom she inspired. I was most fascinated by the film footage of O'Keeffe in her own surroundings. 

I hope it won't be too long before I can return to the O'Keefe Museum in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Nearby Ghost Ranch is certainly on my bucket list. Although there is nothing about COVID 19 on the Ghost Ranch website ghostranch.org, I believe the ranch is one of the sites of the O'Keeffe Museum, so it is probably closed until further notice.

If life ever gets back to "normal"-this year or next- we will definitely plan a road trip to Santa Fe for our summer wedding anniversary. We often celebrate in New Mexico where my husband spent much of his boyhood. The 8-hour drive from Denver is beautiful and we usually see many American antelope not far from the highway in southern Colorado.

For more information visit bjyost.com 
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I hope the Snooze on Colorado Boulevard survives.

We began eating Saturday breakfast in a restaurant almost 40 years ago when my love and I  were having heated discussions and decided to talk to each other in a restaurant because it would encourage us to be...civil. As our tensions subsided, we continued to have "family meetings" in a restaurant over breakfast. 

When we lived on Denver's North Side we breakfasted at the local Village Inn. We saw that location through numerous managers and had waitstaff competing to take us to their stations. Many folks on the North Side could tell you that if you were a regular, you'd see everyone in the neighborhood sooner or later.

Almost ten years ago we took up "temporary residence" in an apartment in Southeast Denver. By then we had become vegan and were sampling various restaurants to check out their vibe and their vegan-friendliness. One Saturday we walked into the Snooze on Colorado Boulevard. Although there was a 30-minute wait, we were greeted with smiles, shown to the free coffee, and the tent-like sidewalk annex with some extra chairs.

It would be hard to miss the niceness of the waitstaff. They were young and cool, and they treated everyone with cheerful attention. Everyone loved to eat at that Snooze: moms and dads with cranky kids, couples of every description, senior citizens with canes. And none of us minded a bit of a wait.

There is nothing vegan on the menu, but we were offered huge "veganized" breakfast burritos and assured that both their red and green chili sauces were vegan and would be good. If you think green chili needs pork (as I once did) to be delicious, you haven't eaten in the Snooze on Colorado Boulevard. We became regulars.

Denver is still sheltering at home. Who knows how long it will be before we'll be returning to Snooze on Saturday mornings. If that location survives. I hope it does.

digital photo:"Through the window on Colorado Boulevard"