Sometimes I think it is helpful to approach a new idea as you would a feral cat: with caution, respect, and patience. For me, it often doesn't work to rush headlong into creating when inspiration first strikes; it is definitely detrimental to push ahead when I are overwhelmed (in a good way or bad,) frustrated, tired, conflicted. This is something I have learned over time. When I am feeling stuck, I set the project aside and turn my back. I give the idea over to my subconscious and let it simmer awhile in my brain pan. And just like a wild kitty that grows emboldened when given some space and gentleness, ideas will often creep back from my subconscious bearing solutions to the roadblocks that had previously stymied my work.
After my last post, I began some serious thought about how I might include my latest yearbook portraits in my upcoming show. They are small (3x5-inches) and would require mounting and/or framing in order to join the canvases I already have planned. I spent the better part of a day online, researching ways to present matted items in art shows and after hours of skimming solutions that were never entirely feasible or visually appealing, the wild idea approached:
"I wish I could do this technique on canvas."
Right away, my critic spoke up:
"That'll be too hard. It will never work. People will never buy these. They'll look stupid."
So I turned off the computer and stepped away from the studio. I watched a movie and went to bed. I lay in the dark, reviewing my day, purposely avoiding any musings on my art or upcoming show. I was just drifting off, listening to Marley Bear gently snoring in the chair next to my bed, when my eyes flew open and the wild idea was before me again:
"Why can't you do this on canvas? You could use metal tape to seal the edges of the Dura-Lar to your canvas, just like you did on the shrine project."
The next morning, I began a test canvas. It is 8x10. I made a good and proper mess and pulled out all the stops to discover how the process and the results would change on a larger substrate. I learned a lot of things. For example, it is very fun to have more room - both on the film and the canvas - to play with color, pattern, and transparent layers but it is easy to go overboard. It is also much harder to glue down a large piece of film versus a small piece. On a larger scale, some of the intimacy of the image is lost and the gloss of the film becomes more distracting. I feel less confident in my ink drawing when it is bigger; mistakes or oddball features are more glaring and irritating. * Hush now, inner critic. *
I'm not sure yet if I will commit this technique to a series of canvases. I'm still courting this wild idea to see if it will become friend or foe. While I'm deciding, here's that test canvas for your consideration. This is 1925 Hughes High School senior, Mary Lucy Brouse from Cincinnati, Ohio. Ironically, her motto is recorded as:
"Diligence and success go hand in hand."
And here's her yearbook description:
"Do you need a tutor in history? See Mary Lucy. Do you want a good dance? Get Mary Lucy. Do you want to know the words of the latest song? Ask Mary Lucy. Do you want to get rid of the blues? Find Mary Lucy."