The birds have begun to sing, even daffodils have begun to peek through frosty ground as I sit here in late February. In November of 2021, I had a plan. It had to do with digital paintings, yes, paintings, yes, digital. They are done with “oil paint” on an app on the iPad. Digital art. In November, I was mentally flogging myself (anyone else do that?) for not spending more time at the easel and being creative or creatively productive or productively creative every single day. Balancing my interior design work, yoga business and my art business left me with little time or frankly inspiration to start something new. However, starting a few years ago, when I went to bed, if I was listening to a great book on audio rather than pick up a book to read, I picked up my iPad. I would start painting on a free app called Art Set. Absolutely free, no frills and yet SO therapeutic. Each night I would do two or three or four or five paintings on the iPad. I might discard a few or rework them later but generally it was for my own pleasure, playfulness and it was relaxing and cathartic. Without lots of supplies or making a mess and carving out hours at a time I was able to consistently create some fun landscapes and experiment with abstract painting. This has been going on for years, it was so free and so personal, it didn’t occur to me it WAS my creative practice. As that moment arrived late in 2021, I was mentally flogging myself (as previously mentioned) and I realized “hey I’ve been productive! I have been creating!” It doesn’t look the way I’ve come to know intimately in my career, but it’s real. We have to let go of what we know so a new idea has a chance in our lives. So I had a plan… Back to that. I thought I’ll take these images, digital paintings that I like, get them printed out and make groupings of them. Maybe they become notecards or postcards and I’ll write notes & give them to friends. Then my December went sideways, I lost my mom as the holidays commenced. With family commitments and life, the cards were set aside. I had the cards printed but they were just sitting with me through December. When January’s curtain lifted, I found myself thinking about goals for the year and how to come back to my artistic practice in a way that felt authentic and gentle and using the energy already expressed. Aha, the cards? I took the 120 printed images of my favorite iPad paintings (yes, there were 120 favorites:) and began to play with them and arrange them creating groupings that made me smile. After spending hours arranging & rearranging with playfulness I had about 12 groupings. Could they come to reflect each month of the year? I began to assign each grouping to a month to see if it felt right. It did. I’ve been asked to make prints for years. Does this feel like the right moment? It does. I plan to release a group each month starting with my collection titled Leafless Winter after Mary Oliver’s beautiful poem. Clearly those daffodils are coming & January is now February‘s collection and just barely. March is days away, and soon the warmth will be back. It felt urgent to have these in the world in February, hence the surprise launch. These paintings* are born of strong angles reminiscent of branches crossing the sky on a cloudy day, a pillow of snow under a street lamp or the deepest shadows of winter bruising the landscape. The pale pinks are frosted noses and cheeks, the deep lines like veins of marble or the veins of my tender skin. If you know me, you know I paint landscapes usually including wildly bright colors, rosy hues and sun-drenched water. This is not that collection. This release is an acknowledgment of cold and hard and sharp things and the soft underbelly they find. These moments aren’t permanent, they visit us and we become resilient and compassionate. These visitations stretch and challenge and leave us changed. What is art for but the celebration of all humanity. The human condition is the glory, the beauty, and also the bleak. These paintings are not as comfortable for me as something brightly expressed, but they are true and honest and beautiful. If my expression finds you and resonates with you, I’m honored to share your journey.
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So you're thinking about a gallery wall but you're a little unsure where to start. I mean, the first time I ever made one, I assumed I needed to cut out newspaper to the size of each frame and rearrange them on the floor until I had an arrangement that I liked. You can do that...but who gets the newspaper anymore? Luckily, I had a brave friend with a hammer and nails and an attitude of "it's just paint, we can't mess it up that bad" and that's how I began my fearless art hanging method. While it's very true it's just paint, over the years, I've done a lot of art hanging and I have a few tips that may save you time or paint ;)
- Have a unifying element. To be more specific, the unifying element could be the shape of your frames, the color of your frames, the color of your matte or the shape of your matte. Those are very physical ways to link disparate images together to create a cohesive statement. A more subtle unifying element is thematic...please get creative here: line drawings, black and white photos, the color pink, texture or landscapes...a unifying theme is a VERY broad category but if you have an intention to link your works together thematically, it creates cohesion even when using mixed photos, art, sculpture or even shadowboxes and wall shelves. -Have a plan. Look at your wall, if you have pretty good spacial reasoning then you'll know how many items might fit. The rest of us will measure to be sure everything we want to include will fit. How many items/images do you have? If you're going for an eclectic or asymmetrical look, an odd number of items are more pleasing to the eye. If you're looking to create a symmetrical grid, well then a good level is your best friend and it's just fine to have even numbers of images. -Hang at eye level. Whose eye level? Yours! If a house is full of people with disparate heights, then I often compromise at about 5 ft for a walking area such as a hallway. That means the focal point of your collection will be at 5 feet, not the top or bottom frame. If you're hanging over a sofa or chair, take the shape of the furniture into account as you begin, The negative space above your furniture is your blank canvas. Arranging art around a piece of furniture with an interesting shape is as special as custom upholstery, it lets you know the collection is intentional and designed specifically for it's home. -Start at the center and work your way out. In an asymmetrical grouping, you're looking for the weight to be even (don't put two big items on the left and 3 small ones on the right) and for the lines of your images to move your eye through the display. I often have 3 to 6 inches between my frames. Go ahead and get wall anchors if you suspect your item is heavy. Whether the walls are plaster or drywall, when I hang something with a substantial frame and weight, I'll dig out the little plastic anchors to make sure the nail or screw isn't going anywhere. -Don't be afraid to experiment on the floor first...I know, I said you don't have to, but if you're new at this, it may make you feel more comfortable to clear some floor space and rearrange your images a few times until it feels just right. -There really aren't any rules you can't break, the whole point of this is to create something that is meaningful and beautiful to you. If you want to put your high school track shoes on the wall, I'll be cheering you on if that's what makes you smile. I'm sure there are loads of other ideas and details to talk about, so if I didn't address something you've been wondering about, leave me a comment or send me a note. I love to stay connected to people who are out there creating beautiful things...or people with an idea, a friend, a hammer and a can-do attitude. Cheers, Anne When I was young, my mom bought me reams of clean newsprint to paint on. I tore through construction and white paper. And later, older, probably 8 or 9, I remember looking through a book of color plates of everything that Henri Matisse had ever painted. I was so struck by his evolution; (though I wouldn’t have known the word for it) from realistic still life and portrait work to the wild Jazz paintings of his exuberant later years.
I am still most taken by his time in Nice, France, where he lavishly painted with color and pattern. I would run my fingers over the colors and flip through the book until it was worn. Fast forward to high school, where I had a wonderful, nurturing teacher who encouraged artistic independent study. Then college, where I started as an art studio major and where I found that critiques could suck the fun out of all my creative play. The 17-year-old-me didn’t yet know the words “impostor syndrome.” But, now, it’s very clear that I had a severe case. I wish I had not taken these conditions so seriously but instead, had had a little fun (and faith) that the 17 year-old-Anne was on the right track. When you graduated with an art history degree (I always appreciated critiquing other artists so much more than being critiqued!) it was inevitable that you would, one day, look for a job at an art museum. And In my 20’s, I was fortunate enough to land a position at the Speed Art Museum in my hometown of Louisville, Ky. Working with and amongst art was a gift in my early 20’s... and I continued to hone the appreciation for art I’d always savored. But there was something missing… Was it enough to simply appreciate other artists? Sometimes...and sometimes not. When opportunity arose, I’d still occasionally pick up my paint brushes for a fun side project, a friend's party that would need decorations or a covert self portrait that would quickly be put away. But there was always the question; why was I dimming my own artistic light? A touchstone moment in my development came when my twins turned 2. It was Mother’s Day and my then-husband bought me an 8 week session of painting classes at Preston Arts Center. While I was incredibly nervous to be critiqued again, I was equally excited about the prospect of forging some sense of identity beyond that of a mother who would, at regular intervals, “cut fruit into small pieces, 7 times a day.” Anyone else have 2 year olds? With a sense of excitement, trepidation, and the requisite number of butterflies, I showed up to class. I was gratified to find, even with the critique, sympathetic and kind guidance. I continually re-enrolled with that class every 8 weeks, without fail, over many seasons... until the Pandemic of 2020. So, if you’re keeping track, I painted with my teacher, and now dear friend, Emily, at Preston Arts Center every single Monday night for 15 years. That’s the thing; I have to be consistent, I have to be brave, I have to keep showing up. As soon as those classes begin again, I will be back. Not because I can’t or don’t paint on my own but because now, I have forged friendships, created rhythms, and have drawn great inspiration from being in company with like-minded people. In the intervening years, as my kids grew, I began to show my work in galleries. First one piece, then a shared or group show, and finally a few solo shows. The moment that I answered, “I’m an artist” to someone who was asking ‘what do you do’ (this was in 2015), I got goosebumps. This was a decade after starting classes and showing up for myself. The educator and artist Emily Jeffords says “progress is quiet and slow,” and I’m living proof of that. There are always small moments along the way, small moments that nudge me along, that urges me to keep going. I am incredibly proud of the work I’ve done; on behalf of the clients who’ve commissioned me to do a landscape painting, a pet portrait, to the explorations I’ve done in pursuit of imagination and the craft of painting. The essence of my work is meaning and intuition. Can I bring meaning to your walls and can I bring meaning to mine? Much more ambitious, but oh so important, can I also bring meaning to my life? What gift do I have to share that is mine alone? How can I use the gifts I’ve been given (and cultivated) to share meaning with you? If it sounds ethereal or pompous, thanks for letting me go there! I am a meaning-maker, intuitive and determined to use my earnest desire, years of experience, and talent to uplift myself & others. It still gives me goosebumps to answer that question. |
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AuthorAnne Borders is a landscape painter living in Louisville, Kentucky. Archives
February 2022
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