recent fascination: skulls

.






human
10" x 10"
oil on canvas, 2011

(first oil painting of 2011)








sweater* and 5 foot tall human skull painting** (in progress)




*the sweater might look pretty familiar to the crocheters in the room. my first run at one of the projects in debbie stoller's The Happy Hooker. i'm working on my 2nd attempt now. amending the design, personalizing the fit, working out a prototype of my own. :) also, this is one of my New Year's Resolutions that has been satisfied: make a sweater. and i must say i am addicted. it's very happy-making even if the sweater is sorta screwy.



**that's my refrigerator it's leaning against just to give you a sense of scale. pretty big. pretty nice. one layer of paint so far but it's already a beauty.

hee hee

i should talk shit about oil painting more often! thwarted by a flat tire and the nearest patching service 2o+ miles away, i've been on a painting spree all day. images to revere came flooding in. unexpected. welcome even. slather slather and smear. :)

3 days

that's how long.

this is the quickest an oil painting has come to me in a very very VERY long time.



Alpha
42" x 35"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2010
N.F.S.

for now, she rests safely in my private collection. this will not be the last time i render her likeness. not nearly. and so i must keep her and tend to her shadows. an angel on my living room wall. secure. whispering. loved.

all of a sudden

yesterday and today i am on a painting RAMPAGE! where did this come from????? i sure ain't complaining, i am HOT HOT HOT for it right now. GO GO GO!

(BIG SMILE)

back on my good grey horse this morning. already already.

it's funny how quickly perspectives shift.

yesterday, a miraculous thing happened: i began a new oil painting. something about priming and sanding and smoothing new canvas made me hungry for it... to revere something. and oil painting is a very reverential thing- the history of portrait painting bleeding through... no matter the subject... it's always a portrait... and they say, in some way, always a self-portrait. i tend to agree with that. all work is, to some degree, autobiographical. even if only in terms of aesthetics. and this is a perfect way to perceive it. a perfect way to proceed. why work on something you're not at all attracted to? that doesn't speak to you? why spend hours deep in the wrestling if you aren't captivated by the image itself?

and this outlook i've given myself permission to cling to - of recognizing, day by day, what image or form or material speaks loudest to me - has unleashed such a rapid love. a quick-moving, diligent, reverential love. and so i slid the black oil all over and kept going, kept going, kept going. and i realized that maybe the thing that has been bugging me specifically about oil painting isn't the material and isn't the image, but rather my handling of it. specifically, my technique. it needed to change a bit. evolve. i had locked myself in to a procedure.

but all the drawing i've been doing has refreshed me... let me see images in a different way... let me see materials in a different way. how painting is an act of honoring. a mode through which we (i) esteem something. and drawing can be that way too, but it's more intimate... full of traces and stains and the sweep of the human hand throughout its entirety. if you look close enough, you will find a finger print. and that's why i am so attracted to drawing lately. the intimacy of it. the imperfections and explorations that are inherent to the media itself.

but yesterday, something shook loose and i remembered that i do in fact know how to paint. that i know how to paint wet-into-wet. that i don't have to stick to the procedure if the procedure no longer aids the exploration as a whole. it was a fast, hard, happy realization and i worked late in to the evening.

it's funny... the things a person forgets. and how frail my ego gets some days. days when i say the worst things possible to myself, convinced everything i've ever done is stupid and pointless and that i'll never get it right. haha! all artists do it. and it feels like hell at the time. but i have to laugh at myself and just keep going.

it is bright and beautiful and green green green outside. maybe i'll paint outdoors today in the good light.

i'll be back later with the poem of the day. i'm enjoying just thinking about painting right now and want to sit with my coffee and look at the canvas for awhile this morning before anything else. it's romantic. :)

happy...

the day started the most wonderful way it possibly could-

i made coffee, lugged the canvas outside, and sat and stared at the thing for the first hour of my morning. i tried to find something to scrutinize but i just couldn't. and then that big, warm wave came. the one that whispers, "you're done. it's finished. now smile." haha! :)



Lineage (4)
44" x 38"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2009

done! finally!

Lineage 2 (Hush)
48" x 36"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2009

done!

Sunday 3 (Sheep in Fog)
30" x 40"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2009

in fog...

i put on my grey dress and we walked through the vineyard fog. the poppies still sleeping, but strange, wakeful birds clicked in the tall trees. i brought the fog home with me, cloaked these daughters in it, and remembered my long lost sunday dresses...

my sister and i posed together
in simple frocks our mother made-
up all night at her sewing machine,
without our father
and brother,
without without without...

but we make progress here...


sunday 3 (sheep in fog)- in progress shot
30" x 40"
oil on canvas


number three in this strange series. these two sisters appearing on there own... unexpected. in my work, two girls have always signals me and my sister, and this painting in particular makes me miss her company more than i usually do- that strange tie that keeps us, makes us. we are very different girls but not separate in the least, standing close to keep the secrets from spilling out, to keep from feeling afraid, and the only time in my life i was not afraid of the dark was when we were young and small and shared a room, sleeping safe in bunk beds...

and now these weird years when a person begins to look back, picking through memories and wondering if those times were real or dreamed, and the last line of a plath poems flashes in the brush and the canvas finds its name before it finds its finish...



SHEEP IN FOG


The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.

The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,

Hooves, dolorous bells-
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,

A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.

They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.





-Sylvia Plath
from Ariel

lineage...

got up at 5:20 this morning and was in the studio working by 6:30. the day is off to a wonderful, happy, exciting start and here's why:


lineage
44" x 38"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2009

she's done! YAY! she's so damn pretty! excuse me while i toot my own tarnished horn but, i love this painting! love, love, LOVE! i'm going to spend the rest of the morning sipping coffee and staring at this canvas.

when i started it - always thinking of anonymity and loss, ya know - i thought about my own history... the history of all the women in my family, really... and realized that "cleaning women" are pretty much invisible. they have no voice, no real power... at least not when they're on the job. i've worked as a maid before. very few of the people whose homes i cleaned even looked at me, let alone spoke to me. you are required to be silent, a ghost moving unseen and unheard through the house... and don't make the client uncomfortable by highlighting your humanity at all...

this painting is made to honor such a lineage- a long, undocumented, "uncomfortable" history that isn't spoken of, the women who handle the messes, who have a relationship with dirt... it isn't polite to speak of such things.

diary...

i've got a morning wake-up ritual that is working wonders for me, let me tell ya. i get up, put the coffee on, and grab my notebook and pen. i spend the first hour (at least) of my day writing. no matter how early i've got to get up, i get up early enough to do this. it helps me whittle down the plans for my day so that i don't try to take on too much, but it also gives me a hefty confidence boost to try things that i'm daunted by or scared of. largely, the morning writing time serves as a jumbo pep-talk and encourages me to maintain my focus, continue doing the work i'm doing, and not to feel defeated by circumstance.

right away, i started writing about the new painting i started and just art stuff in general. i've been feeling a bit discouraged with oil painting specifically lately, and writing about my frustrations really clarified a few things for me.

not to keep harping on the color issue, but it's really been bothering me and choking my practice as a whole. this is part of the rant i wrote this morning:

"...the important thing is to get painting again. obviously, the turn to color hasn't worked for me and i need to get back to what feels right. i just want to work... do GOOD work and not worry about anything else. black and white is where my heart is and it took me a long time to get to this place with my work. i hated my paintings for too many years to welcome that horrible feeling back. i simply do not like colorful paintings and i don't want to make them. that's not what my work needs, it's not what my subject matter is about, it's just not where i'm at right now. i want to make big, beautiful, black oil paintings that are sincere, intimate in spite of scale, maybe a bit hard to look at sometimes but stunning nevertheless... haunting and invasive. i don't want to sugar coat my work. it's not about making pretty pictures. it never has been. it's about honoring the subject. it's about doing what's right for the work. it's about Jon Benet Ramsey and Shura Hughes. It's about Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath. it's about my sibling's childhood, my childhood, my 5 year old nephew... it's about longing and loss and trauma and searching out a genuine comfort. it's about becoming safe, being okay. it's about resilience. it's about trusting the path, trusting that GOOD really does exist. it's about clearing away the rubble and making a home, finding poetry in the smallest, darkest corners. it's about practicing compassion and cultivating opportunities for understanding and affection. it's about coming to terms with harshness, dealing with it as a fact, and getting through it. it's about stopping the horror... it's about so much more than whether or not i paint in color. it's not about decor or pleasantries. the work isn't meant to be polite, it's meant to be sincere... and that's not nearly the same thing. not even close..."

after that, i went directly to my little studio and got to work. i put down a layer of paint on the new canvas and then forced myself to stop - respect the process - but i was still so in love with the act of painting at that point that i went back to work on the big ol' yellow painting i started months ago. i'd turned it to face the wall because i was so utterly frustrated by the painting that even looking at it seemed to leech any kernel of enthusiasm i may have had for oil painting. but today, i took my own advice about going back to my beloved black and white aesthetic and white-washed the entire painting. talk about working wonders. i was able to see the painting's potential again. i worked on it for hours and it's finally starting to morph in to a painting i'm excited by and love looking at. break-through! yay! the power of a diary. sometimes just getting it out, down on paper, is the only tool a person needs.

i couldn't help it, i swear...

hi all! sorry i missed you yesterday - my sweetie and i both had the day off from work and i just wanted to spend the day with him completely and without any interruption of any kind. we had a great day together.

today, i went in to the shop for a bit and then came home and got back to work on the new painting. i'm taking it slow, spending alot of time just looking and standing back from the canvas, letting the work breathe and paying close attention to the direction it's pointing me in. it feels good to be working in oils again. it seems like it's been a long time but i guess it really hasn't been... just been a bit since i made an oil painting i really liked. i started putting a rush on the last few canvasses and that was definitely the problem. since i work in layers of stains, patience is an extremely important "material" in my practice: i've got to let each individual layer dry before i move on to the next. i sorta didn't do that with the last few and, as you can see, there's not anything to show because of it. the paintings moved in a strange direction (due to my impatience) that i honestly didn't like at all and ended up killing my initial inspirations an intentions. lesson learned: slow down kid, don't get ahead of yourself.

it's martin luther king day today too. every year, i get pretty bummed out on this day. a strange brew of hope, gratitude, and sadness. NPR was playing the I HAVE A DREAM speech on my drive home and it brings tears to my eyes every time...
but tomorrow is Obama's inauguration and i am so glad to see the day finally arrive. i am so thankful to all the people who voted with me, who want to see some real change take place, and who believe in openness, compassion, concern, and integrity of character. i'll be parked in front of the television for most of the day tomorrow. i'm so excited to see my new president be sworn in to office.

at home...

another great day today guys! that's like... 14 good days in a row now. ever since the new year arrived i've just been feeling at the top of my game, hopeful, driven, and happy.

i shipped the embroidered territories off to chicago today (YAY!), went for a nice long hike in the vineyards outside calistoga, and spent the last 2 or so hours working on the new painting. it's really coming along quite nicely. so nicely, in fact, that the fear of messing up has kicked in... which isn't really a good thing. you tend not to take risks and make discoveries when you get too precious about whatever it is you're working on. at least i do. i'm just gonna have to shrug it off and keep going.

i also got these super sweet and creepy broken porcelain dolls i ordered in the mail today:


(photo courtesy of FOUNDLINGS)

they are so precious! instant keepsakes! i got them from FOUNDLINGS if you're interested in getting yourself something along these lines. shelley, the sweetheart who runs the shop, is so kind and shipped these to me so quickly. her shop is full of strange things and she's got a wonderful eye for romantic objects with a history.

i also listed a few new pieces at little black fences, my shop. its really starting to pull together. the shop is curated pretty well and is heading in a direction that i'm kinda proud of. and with 28 or so pieces in the inventory, i think i'm pretty well stocked. let me know what you think. critique is always welcome.

i'm gonna head back in to the studio for a bit more painting before i curl up with my book and my man-piece.

hope everyone is safe and feeling happy.

angela

delicate

untitled (twins)
oil on canvas
10" x 10"
2007

sunday (1)
graphite and acrylic on paper
9" x 12"
2007
my approach is becoming much more thoughtful within this series in regard to paint application. i'm thinking about the differences between textures and mediums, letting the image fall away and hide inside the background or stand in stark contast to it, like a cut out.
lately i've been thinking about what it means to say something, realizing that sometimes what one does not say is louder than what is said.

New Paintings

i've been keeping busy and trying to keep it as simple as possible. i love painting in black and white and i think these images work well with such a limited pallette.

my intention here was to continue exploring the status of the "Other" in society. Children fall easily in to this category.

Children are often viewed as property. As such, their identities are not treated as relevant, if not outright ignored. Being that faces are unique and that when we look at each other, we read each other's facial expressions to gauge emotional responses, to exclude the face is to also exclude a claim to humanity. Bodies are generic, banal... faces are specific, individual. Here, there is nothing for us to relate to... there are no emotions to be read.

These paintings dance back and forth between being snap shots of human beings and images of objects. In these paintings, the absence of the face is an absence of importance. As with the painting of myself as a child in an earlier post, i'm interested in imposed anonymity... social orders that determine levels of relevance and appreciation. The identities and emotions of these children are ignored because it is socially acceptable to do so. It is acceptable to undermine them.