Coming Clean

This is how it starts. You look at something that you've been keeping close because, in that particular raindrop of time, it captured something essential. For me the "essential" usually comes swaddled in memory and memory is usually accompanied by something sensory--a sight, a sound, a smell. In the case of the collage series at the heart of this recounting, my Dirty Birds series, the ambience was tuneful, as I was in the midst of a Rufus Wainwright iPod marathon. There's more, though. There was Gloria Steinem. Her 1993 book Revolution From Within had been languishing in the to-donate-to-the-library pile. What made me pick it up and flip to the spread...that had a story about a woman named Laura...who had been on a personal journey not unlike my own? Some would argue that in life there are no coincidences. I didn't argue anything. With Rufus Wainright bouncing off my studio walls and my scissors on fire, I sliced all the Laura passages out of Steinem's book.

The Dirty Birds series was born. The pieces, all four of them, have graced the entry wall in my home since 2012.

But today they entered rehab. I invite you to witness the passage. If you have been following along with this blog, you know that, as the daughter of a narcissist, I have been engaged in a journey of recovery. It has not been pleasant but it has been vital. In recovery, the emotional as well as the physical sort, things can happen so slowly that you don't really notice any changes until you find yourself carefully un-framing a series of collages because it has suddenly become imperative to redo that which was made in a state of almost unbearable pain. So there you have it.

Let's have a look, shall we?

This is the original Dirty Birds #1. You can see Steinem's Laura text is prominent, just a little above center. 

Original (2012) Dirty Birds #1.
Paper collage with décollage on 5 x 7 canvas board with direct-to-paper
 gel ink transfers,  mica splits, charcoal, and beeswax.

This is the Dirty Birds #1 redeux. The Laura text has been covered up, and the textual focus has shifted to a larger concept--the American family. I've added a number of paper scraps as well as another mica split, some dye ink for that luscious blue, some chalk for sheen (which you can't see here), and more beeswax.

Revised (2014) Dirty Birds #1
Same as the above with the addition of more paper, mica, dye ink, and chalk
 

In the original Dirty Birds #2, the Laura strip is in relatively the same position. I remember circling the word "violin" in pencil because my parents used to make violin-sawing motions with their hands when they thought I was whining, and in 2012, even I was sick of putting up with me.

Original (2012) Dirty Birds #2
Paper collage with décollage on 5 x 7 canvas board. Antique papers, direct-to-paper
gel ink transfers, mica splits, charcoal, beeswax finish.

In the revised Dirty Birds #2, the Laura text has of course been removed and in its place remains only a fragment that more or less reads "will never again" (my motto). To obscure other text in the original version, I used sewing pattern paper, creating a matrix of broken lines with the pattern pieces. The blue ink from the first revision made it into this piece, too, and then I gave myself two stars (from a music practice book, vintage 1950s) for effort. One of the things that children of narcissists have to learn is how to be kind to themselves, and this seemed a good start to the exercise.

Revised (2014) Dirty Birds #2
Same as before, except more paper, including sewing tissue paper,
another mica split, some blue dye ink, and brown chalk
 

I haven't altered the third piece in the series. That doesn't mean I won't, just not today. I'm still kind of attached to Steinem's line about "the Confidence Clinic," and part of me wants to keep a remnant of how I used to be. We'll see how long that lasts.

Original (2012) Dirty Birds #3
Paper collage with décollage on 5 x 7 canvas board. Antique papers, direct-to-paper
 gel ink  transfers, mica splits, charcoal, beeswax finish.

Here's the last in the series, the original Dirty Birds #4. The Laura strip has migrated to the bottom in this piece.

Original (2012) Dirty Birds #4
Paper collage with décollage on 5 x 7 canvas board. Antique papers, direct-to-paper
gel ink transfers, mica splits, charcoal, beeswax finish.

And here's the revised version. New paper has been added, old text has been obscured, but mostly this revision is about the shift in contrast and in color. The blue is brighter and I sloshed some brown ink around until I got an effect that I liked. Less dark. Less stark. More like me. 

Revised (2014) Dirty Birds #4
As described above, with the addition of more paper, dye ink, and chalk.

But it didn't stop there. When I posted the link to this blog on Facebook, one of my friends pointed out that she really liked the Laura text line in the original Dirty Birds #4, the one that said "Having rescued herself, Laura is now the rescuer." It struck me that I really liked that line, too. Thanks to the magic of collage, I was able to restore it easily, simply scratching away the top paper to reveal the text underneath, which had been embedded in a protective casing of beeswax, rather like an artifact in amber.

Second revision of Dirty Birds #4
The new paper has been abraded and the Laura line about rescuing is back.
Because it was embedded in beeswax, the original text was always protected,
even as I was scratching away at the top layer.

Clearly a lot can happen in two years' time. To those who may be struggling, I say...stick with it. There is light, and there is hope, and there are definitely brighter and more vibrant blues.

As always, thanks for listening.




Collage Fragments Deconstructed

At first glance, this collage might seem like it's about as much fun to view as it is to trek a pilgrimage through desert sands. Barefoot. On one's knees.



"The Memory of Coffin Spelled Backward," paper collage
with décollage, Laura Tringali Holmes 2013

Yes, there is the anxious-looking child, supporting her chin with her hand, as swaths of thought patterns rendered in language symbols cut through her head. Not to mention the maps of places unvisited serving as background.

Like I said, burning desert sands.

Detail, "The Memory of Coffin Spelled Backward." The wafting misty mirror writing
 is achieved through gel transfer, in this case from paper taken from the Speedwriting
Shorthand Dictionary (1923). When you want a wafting look, there's nothing better,
in my humble opinion, than gel transfer combined with décollage. All the words
here begin with the letter C, and, yes, the word "coffin" is in there somewhere. 

And then there is that guy. Let's call him the father figure. What is he lifting? Could it be a child-sized coffin? Is the girl's integrity as a human being and her value inside? Is that why she looks so anxious? Is the guy about to come at her with a big fat belt?  Is that why all that language/thought stuff is afloat?

Like I said, barefoot and on your knees.

Detail, "The Memory of Coffin Spelled Backward." And, no,
it's not a coffin, just a tabletop being muscled onto its legs, from
a volume in the voluminous 1960s Practical Handyman encyclopedia.

But wait. There's more. C'mon down, Emily Dickinson, and bring your wonderfully poetic lines: "Hope is the thing with feathers...that perches in the soul." I invite you, dear readers, to note the direction of our girl's eyes.

Why...it would seem she's locked onto The Thing With Feathers! Not her father, or whatever it is he happens to be holding.

Detail, "The Memory of Coffin Spelled Backward." Okay, so the gaze isn't
perfectly aligned, but we collage artists do what we can with what we have.
And if you've been following this blog, you know that this girl has had her hopeful
work cut out for her, so we're going to give her a round of applause anyway.

And, for an even more potent portent, we have what I am, for the purposes of this blog entry, calling a "flourishing target." Do you know about my Target Practice Project? No? I won't trouble you with a nosebleed about the Project right now, but I do encourage you to learn about it and to enjoy the work of some 150 artists, who have generated over 300 images based on a single 1960s Sears Roebuck archery target, at these links:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/161991817319872/
http://thetargetpracticeproject.blogspot.com/

I have used a fragment of that same target here, but in this case, drilling down right here and right now, we can see that the plain paper target has taken on, through the magic of collage and the ink that lives on paper, evidence of fecundity. Wow. The plot gets thickerer and thickerer.

Detail, "The Memory of Coffin Spelled Backward." This shows the target, to which
I have added, through ink transfer from an old magazine page, tree trunks and
flourishing foliage. Hope is the thing with feathers, but hope is in nature, too.

So let's look at the collage again, shall we? And let's cast a weather eye toward the hope that is embedded, albeit subtly, because we survivors of narcissistic parents have certainly had plenty of opportunity to hone our survival chops (albeit subtly).

The point of all this being that once we can look at our memories, and realize that they ARE memories and not predictors of our futures...well...

...we are then on our way, aren't we?

Thank you, again, for listening. I am thankful, on this Thanksgiving weekend, that you are out there listening.



A Day of Eggcess

I was surprised that my old paints and glazes hadn't dried in their bottles. It's been that long since I've layered anything but paper and glue.

But for a few days now, here in the dreary Northeast, I've been awakened by the merry sounds of our own dawn chorus...which is what I call those relentlessly cheerful chirpers who flock to my feeders in the early morning hours in Spring. Spring! While Spring is certainly not official, the birds are back in town and that's all it takes for my heart to soar.

Feeling excessively cheered this morning, I wanted to made an excessive piece...well...eggcessive, actually. So I pulled out all my old mixed-media stuff and sat down...to express...buoyancy.

It started here, with a few fragments of plastic that I have used in the past as viewfinders. Today I focused my viewfinders on a feather.

I began the piece with papers and a healthy layer of eggs. And then added more paper and more eggs and then I rubbed on a little ink, and, because I can't seem to help myself these days, did just a wee bit of décollage around the chimney swift.

And then came the gesso, because I wanted to highlight some of the existing text, and to do that, I had to push the other text into the background. Gesso is known for its pushing qualities. Clearly, there was also a unity question here, and I was counting on the gesso to take down the noise of my unrestrained paper choices a decibel or three. The gesso was not as cooperative as the paints and glazes, having hardened in its bottle from lack of use, so I had to chip it out and pound it into a slurry with spritzes of water. But it reconstituted, eventually. A Spring miracle!



I turned to my old friends the paints and glazes next...beige and gold and rust and seafoam green. Not having worked with mixed media in a very long time, I used the glazes sparingly. By contrast, I also added a honking big golden paper egg--nothing "sparing" about that egg--and a text snip that, for me, became the focal point of the piece. In case you can't read it from the blurry cell phone picture, the text snip says: "...half the pleasures of the world come through my eyes. If this does not make me an expert...."

To reinforce the message in the text strip, I had no choice at this point but to add an evidentiary point, a a symbolic me, walking into the excess of eggs to prove myself an expert. (She--the me--is walking into the eggs, not away from them, I assure you. Look carefully at her shoes.)  And, because this is where I happen to be now in my artistic experimentation, I had to décollage her, to reveal...her pointy head, as it turns out.

Here's a detail:

Whew! Finally, here is the finished piece. Thanks for joining me in my eggcessive journey today. And happy Spring to you!

Going Metal

I am taken with tin. And of course altering playing cards remains dear to my heart. As is paper, the older the better. So I've been combining my loves and this is what's been happening in my neck of the woods.

I call this one "Shiny Shoes and Epaulets." It's made from a piece of coffee tin, text from an 1889  copy of Harper's Monthly Magazine, metal fasteners, and a few spatters of acrylic paint, all grounded on a playing card.

This one is "She Who Masks Last Masks Best." The (rusted) ceiling tin bird is masked with a bit of Colorado license plate, and there's that paper from the 1889 Harpers Monthly again. A reproduction playing card from the Second Word War serves as the base.

Those sharp little offcuts that fly off my tin snips are beastly to clean up--and pose a real safety issue to my under-table pooch--so I've become best friends with a Dustbuster. What we do for our dogs!

The Un-BIRD-ening Continues

An array of bird collages has winged it's way into reality since March. I posted the first two pieces in this series in a previous blog: http://lauratringaliholmes.blogspot.com/2012/03/un-bird-ening-in-spring-2012.html. I'm now back to add another five nestlings to the series. There are two more in the pipeline and then...perhaps...I will be done.

Fly, birdies, fly! 

"I Still Laugh"
Paper collage with mixed media and ephemera on canvas
board. Old papers, including text from 1960s beauty manual
and gel transfer of woodpecker from old Audubon flashcard.
Acrylics, pens, and mica dust.

"The Lionhearted"
The key to the title is in the little lion in the tape-transfer cage.
Gel transfer of finches from Audubon flashcard set, old
papers, tape and acetone transfers, acrylics, pens, charcoal
pencil. Big text snip from an old Irving Berlin songbook.
Beeswax finish. On deep canvas.

"I Want to be a Frontiersman"

Gel image transfer of dove from old Audubon flashcard,

antique papers, rose tissue, acrylic paint, inks, charcoal

pencil, glaze and metallic pens, mica dust, and beeswax

on deep canvas

"The Righteous Robin"
Gel image transfer of bird from old Audubon flashcars,
old papers,  paper  napkin,  acrylic paint, inks, charcoal
 pencil, gold pen, mica dust, and beeswax finish, on
deep canvas

"A Well-Loved Heron"
Hand-painted paper and mixed media collage on canvas
board, gel image transfer of bird from Audobon flashcard
overpainted with fuzzy sweater and other
acrylics, old papers, charcoal pencil, markers, stamps, inks

Un-BIRD-ening in Spring 2012

Last year I found a box of old Audubon bird flashcards on my library's swap shelf. The flashcards sat around my loft for quite some time, but then, just a few weeks ago, I found myself making gel transfers of the images of my favorite birds--the ones who regularly hang out at my deck feeders. These gel transfers seemed to quite naturally gravitate to the texts in some of my favorite old books and magazines. I was hooked. I added a variety of mixed-media techniques...and a bird series was born. The pieces are not quick to make, and there are about a dozen in the pipeline. But the work is a meditative exercise, and gives me time and space to think and feel. I work on these pieces on days when I can throw the loft skylights open and hear the sweet and invigorating music of bird talk.

"Innocent Yet World-Weary"
Gel image transfer of birds from old Audubon flashcards,
old papers, acrylic paint, inks, charcoal pencil, gold pen,
mica dust and beeswax on 5 x 7 canvas

"You've Got to Punctuate"
Gel image transfer of birds from old Audubon flashcards, gel
image transfer of flower from old gardening book, old papers,
acrylic paint, inks, charcoal pencil, gold pen, mica dust, and
beeswax on 5 x 7 canvas

This shot shows the gels soaking in water, prior to peeling.

A look at the image emerging after peeling off some of the paper, like a nestling emerging
from its shell.

And thanks for listening.

A Most Exquisite Corpse

I've been working on an Exquisite Corpse collaboration with collage artist Adrian Jugaru of Romania (http://jugadi.deviantart.com), and if that doesn't bring on performance anxiety, I don't know what will. For those who don't know, an Exquisite Corpse is a collaborative piece of work where the preceding person's work is covered up except for by about an inch before it goes to the next person. That means you're creating a poem or a collage or a whatever from a very narrow margin. And you're not allowed to peek under the covering attached by the previous person. What fun would that be? Adrian and I each began a collage for the other, and we agreed that we should prepare the entire background before sending. This would give the other a feel for the vibe of the piece as well as color clues. The collage shown here is the one prepared by Adrian and finished by me.

See that pencil line in the photo above? That marks the top inch of Adrian's collage. I started my work in that inch, adding color and the arrow and box to the top of the hat shape provided by Adrian.

This overview shows the cover that Adrian taped on the collage (the collage measures 6-1/2 x 9-3/4 in.). Since I decided to continue with Adrian's “fishy” theme, I figured some fish stamps from South Africa and a recycled tag might come in handy.

The shot above shows how things looked after playing around with various arrangements and then gluing down the pieces.

I didn't know what was under the cardboard (I didn't peek, I promise!), but I did know that I wanted to send down some blue streaks, if nothing more than to make sure there was some unity between the sections of the collage. So I watered down some ink and, by flexing the cardboard and shaking the collage, was able to get some dripping action going. Because the ink is transparent, I figured it wouldn't obliterate anything that Adrian had glued beneath. I don't know if this broke Exquisite Corpse protocol, but I wound up dripping ink in three places.

And then it was done and it was time for the moment of truth!

When I saw this I was absolutely delighted! What fun! What serendiptiy! I loved how my verticals just so happened to complement Adrian's sword. I loved how the bird mask on Adrian's man worked with my theme of a predatory earth. (That big black tag is the earth, folks!) And I loved the watery ink drips.

Here is the finished piece. If you ever have occasion to participate in an Exquisite Corpse project, I say go for it! It's nerve-wracking to be sure, but there is something entirely magical in the moment when you reveal what lies waiting just beneath the surface.

And, again, as always, thanks for listening.

Longitudes and Lattitudes

Eight playing cards for collaboration flew into my life about four months ago. I was drawn to the variety of birds on the playing cards—avian creatures ranging from eagles and egrets to chickadees. Even the humble junco had a place! But I think it was this very diversity that, in the end, threw me. If the cards had contained a bunch of iconic Big Black Birds I would have run with the symbology. I love Big Black Birds. But real birds? The type I watch in the pond and at the feeders and everywhere I travel? Nope. The feeling was strong that I needed to honor these guys. I wanted to unify the set of cards to reflect my thoughts about the birds I so love. But how? Enter paralysis. And so I perched on the cards for about four months, with nothing feeling right.

And then I was lucky enough to spend a half-day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I was there for other exhibits, but one of the last things I managed to squeeze in was the Photographic Treasures from the Collection of Alfred Stieglitz show for no other reason than that my companion is interested in all things photographic. The images that I saw unmoored me, carried me off to someplace with different longitudes and lattitudes. I was reminded yet again that when we give ourselves opportunity to look at viewpoints other than the ones we are used to every day, we give ourselves the freedom to change perspective.

And thus the Birdwatcher series was born. Here are a few samples from the set of eight cards.

Birdwatcher #4, Laura Tringali Holmes & Liz Cohn, December 2011
Paper on paper on playing card with mixed media

"Birdwatcher #7," Laura Tringali Holmes & Liz Cohn, December 2011
Paper on paper on playing card with mixed media

"Birdwatcher #1," Laura Tringali Holmes & Liz Cohn, December 2011
Paper on paper on playing card with mixed media

This set of cards will be part of a travelling exhibition created by Liz Cohn called “Playing With (more than) a Full Deck." The show's first stopover is February 2 at the Cannon Beach Gallery in Cannon Beach, Oregon. From there it moves to Portland. At last count, there are over 1200 tiny collaborative works of art featuring over 150 artists.

It was a close call, but I'm so glad that these eight cards will make it in time.

Thanks for listening.

Me and You

"Just Draw," Laura Tringali Holmes, 2011
Hand collage with papers, acrylics, and inks, 8 x 10 on canvas board
Text and image snips from Progressive Tailor magazine, Grade Teacher magazine, 
Popular Science Monthly, and Birds of America

An award! Received by me! For up and coming bloggers! A designation I embrace with great happiness and pride. I speak of the Liebster Award, which recognizes and showcases rising bloggers with fewer than 200 followers. The origins of the award are German--the word “liebster” in German means “favorite” or “dearest.”

I received this award from Amy at Four Corners Design. When I first started blogging five months ago, one of my first finds was Amy's blog: http://fourcornersdesign.blogspot.com/ If you look at her header montage, there is a little snip of text that says “ substance from a solution.” Her creations—and her blog—are just that. Her work is pure invention, her tableux winsome, her photos enchanting. Yes. Definitely visit Amy.

In accepting the Liebster Award, participants agree to the following terms: 

1. Thank the awarder and link back to his or her blog.
2. Copy and paste the award to their blogs.
3. Choose five blogs to receive the Liebster Award and let these bloggers know by commenting on their blogs.

Here are my five blogs. The first four focus on art. The last on the list is the blog of a young woman who was diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma a day after her 24^th birthday. All of these blogs inspire me in all sorts of ways, and I am grateful for the internet community that makes this sort of communication possible. I hope you'll visit these bloggers and show them your support.

http://carolereidartist.blogspot.com/

http://wildthreadstudio.blogspot.com/

http://makinghandmadebooks.blogspot.com/

http://lawendula.blogspot.com/

http://meandthehodge.blogspot.com/

Birds Themselves

Birds Themselves, mixed media on canvas, 2011

Birds themselves are a joy to feed, especially at this time of year when all the youngsters line up on the deck rail to be beak-fed by their parents. Oh, the drama! We call it Bird TV. This year we've had an abundant and hungry fledge class of downy and red belly woodpeckers, finches (cardinals, gold, house, and purple), blue jays, grackles, sparrows (chipping, house, European), and starlings. No matter the type of bird, when the babies open their beaks for feeding, the red color that is revealed makes a perfect target for mama or papa to drop in suet or seed. We haven't seen chickadee, nuthatch, rose-breasted grosbeak, or tufted titmouse fledglings yet even though we think we have breeding pairs of all of these.

There is always tomorrow.

When you feed birds year-round, you earn a front-row seat at the evolution theater. For example, last year one of our blue jays, who we named Darwin, learned to feed upside down at our suet house—this is something that birds other than woodpeckers don't usually like to do. But this year's crop of jay babies all seem to have a natural inclination for and grace in upside-down feeding. Could these be Darwin's children? Have we witnessed an evolutionary stride? All speculation here, no science, but it's fun to watch and wonder.

Droll Yankee small cylinder feeder with homemade baffle and squirrel,
who is clearly not baffled, 2010

While birds themselves are a joy, excluding squirrels is a daily challenge. I made the pretzel-jug baffle in 2010 after Beau Regard, a particularly agile rodent, figured out that he could leap from the deck rail to the feeder perch (he would make it every fourth try or so), then corkscrew himself up into the jug so that his back feet could grasp the interior wire feeder hanger. His little paws could then push mounds of seed into his cheeks.

Squirrel Buster (tm) feeder with homemade rodent
shield, 2011

This year several of our squirrels discovered that by balancing their bellies on the deck rail, they could trick the weight-sensitive spring ring on our Squirrel Buster feeder and free their paws to stuff their faces. I've plugged the front-facing ports of the feeder with aluminum foil, a tin-can cover, and packing tape. The birds eat at the two ports that remain open at the back of the feeder. For now this appears to be working.

We'll see what tomorrow brings.