In a nutshell, while I do lots of other things, my primary craft is bookbinding, my fine art is painting and collage, and my experiments take place in mixed-media sketchbooks and art journals. What you usually see on my blog are collaged pages from art journals, once in a while a bound book or two, and almost never, a painting. It's all about what I choose to share. But there are other ways of sharing, and letting you into one of my practices and thought processes is what I want to share today.
About a third of what I do is done in the field. This means in open places, away from the confines and comfort of home and studio. I do this purposely. I find that my brain works differently in public places. Not surprising, since it's taking-in different stimuli and responding to it. But I've also found that I have definite preferences for what I'm doing depending on whether I'm working privately or in the open.
Below are a couple of collaged pages from a large book that I'm working in studio. I started this book a couple of weeks ago when Kelly Kilmer was here, and decided that I wanted to use it to experiment with how many thin layers of many different media I could use to cover a page and still keep it entirely flat.
Printing, tissue-thin layers of paper, and stencilling were obvious choices, as were multiple color washes. The dots along the top to middle right of the page are done with flocking. I wanted to test the effectiveness of different adhesives because when applied correctly, I think flocking is a great way to add interesting texture to a page without bulk.
This page also employs stencils as a means of experimenting with color washes and a variety of media. To keep it cohesive, I mixed yellows from acrylic, watercolor, and water soluble wax pastels and experimented to see how each work over different surfaces, which in the page above include slick magazine paper, finely corrugated card, transparent plastic tape, masking tape, washi tape, tissue paper, and more.
Obviously, in studio there is more room and there are more materials at hand to work with, so it's no surprise that when I work privately, I work in a much larger format. It's also not surprising that I don't choose to do bookbinding or screen printing at a Starbucks. But what surprised me was the realization that in studio, I work on books, but I don't work inside books much, if at all, unless of course those books are very large like one with the pages featured above, or when I want to experiment with media that isn't portable or is not suited to a public environment. In studio, I work on single sheets, large or small, boards, and on canvas. But in the open I always work inside a reasonably sized book, whether it's a sketchbook or an art journal makes no difference, and if I do grab a sheet of paper while I'm out, I lay it inside my book to draw, collage, paint, or to do whatever with it. Now that's a revelation! Why do I do this?
Well, privacy, obviously. But why? I'm not shy about my work. Not at all. I'm not afraid of criticism. Not in the least. I truly don't care if I make a masterpiece or the all-time great mistake in front of a crowd, and that's the truth. Why? I think it may have something to do with the overwhelming amount of support and praise, deserved or not, that I received about my artwork from the time I was very little. From four years old, and perhaps even younger. And it helped that this support came from adults. Parents, but not just parents. Professional artists who taught very young children at museum classes. I believed them when they told me I was good, and even more importantly, I believed them when they told us we shouldn't pay attention to what other people might say about our work. They taught us that most people didn't understand art, and while they were entitled to their opinions, they were not qualified to criticize it. I still believe this. And I think this infused me with immune cells. I'm immune to feeling negative by other people's criticism of my work, because I just don't care what others think since I don't feel that anyone other than myself or a person with the classic definition of an "artist's eye", is sufficiently informed to comment on the work itself. And whether or not someone likes what I do is subjective. It is subject to their own pleasures and tastes, often driven by current commercial fads, and these are things that my feelings have been programmed not to respond to. I was raised by experts to believe those things were not only unimportant, but that they were unhelpful. So that isn't why I seek privacy under the covers of a book. But I know that it is a privacy issue, because I feel the need to have a cover I can close to shelter what I'm doing. Why?
I think it's to protect my work from busy-bodies. They are plentiful, and I view their interruptions as the height of impolite behavior. I love being out and amongst people, and I am energized and receptive to people who take a genuine interest. I even invite their opinions, for better or for worse, if they are honestly inclined to give them. But I hate curiosity-seekers because they are less about opinion, and more about taking up time. They drain energy. Many of them are patronizing, and I hate patronization most of all because it stems from a sense of superiority that dishonestly veils itself with the pretence of kindness, but in truth it is imperious and judgemental. But it isn't the judgement that bothers me, it's the interruption without good reason, because I'm there to work, not seek approval. This attitude is so opposed to the spirt of art and creativity, that I cover my work to keep it from the polluting air which that attitude brings with it. And then I'll open it up again to the public, removing the cover to those who honestly like, or honestly hate whatever I'm doing, or those who are just minding their own business, not noticing what I'm doing at all. In reality, most people do just go about their business, and it's artistically stimulating to be among them, even if I'm not specifically engaged in drawing their movements.
So why am I sharing this with all of you? Maybe because I think that it's as important to share what goes on inside the artsit once it's discovered, as it is to share the art itself. What's inside is, after all, the heart and soul of what's on the paper.
as our guide. 
