Enough is Enough

I wanted to share a glimpse of what's been moving me and what I’ve been working on in the studio lately. All in preparation for a September show at Helix Winery downtown Spokane.

I love working in a series with a plan in place to show it. Each piece is its own journey, but for me, the way they fit together is also a work of art. It's not always something I can describe in words. When I can, I like to. So I've written about what I'm doing now and I'm excited to share below.  

Essence of the Work

My new series in progress channels the blissful weightlessness dancing in, over and on the shores of the Pacific. It's here at ocean's edge where I live and indulge my senses half of each year. These are painted encounters that translate my lived experience of floating in her healing waters. These tide pool cradles, formed by ancient rock formations, hold space for my floating meditative pauses. In her warm fluid embrace, I can surrender my physical body, dropping into a dreamy, timeless state, to easily merge with the elements.

This practice is both somatic and spiritual, an embodied connection to the community of all creation, a practice that nourishes and sustains me.

The Technique

I've been using veil-like, washy layers to evoke the translucent, ever-changing sky and waterscapes. I interweave these with the gritty and sculptural texture of organic materials like sand, lime, plaster and marble powders. These tactile layers conjure the earthy grounding presence that meets each step and that also allow for the incessant audible pounding and splashing roar that are the background music of my every waking moment. The process is a dance between chance and intention—inviting curiosity, and, more importantly, humility.

Overworking and contriving threaten the soul of this style,

a minimalistic approach where less is more.

The temptation to overwork and contrive is always present, threatening to obscure the soul of the piece. But lately, I’m catching the over-vigilant mind as it judges and pushes toward perfection. Instead, a somatic noticing is emerging—an understanding of when to leave a piece as it is; sometimes because it's truly finished, other times just until there is a genuine impulse to continue, vs the drive to finish.

Listening is my practice. I'm learning to hear and heed the whispers, "let go, trust, dive in and/or ultimately, move on". After all, no one work can hold everything and each piece must finally be enough as it is, and always leaving room for the viewer to complete.