New artwork
close up
acrylic paint applied with fingers, “crushed glass” glitter, skeletons of leaves, canvas
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Peace of mind
It is difficult to get a good scan of my art in the spiral-bound art journal I use. But – it lays flat for working on. So I’m not sure how to fix this, or if I need to.
Created 7-10-16. Magazine images and words, fortune cookie message.
A meditation on how I need to break out of my comfort zone, and how I want to walk the Camino de Santiago de Compostella soon – next year is the goal. I cannot wait until I retire to start living my life. I may not have the energy or physical ability – or even be alive. Life is short and unpredictable. Better to start doing the “bucket list” things ASAP.
Bridges and mountains
Created around 07-05-16
Stamp, fortune cookie message, images and words from a AAA travel magazine.
I’ve not made anything new for the art journal in a while. I’ve not been writing as much either. Perhaps this is part of why I’ve felt so spacy and disconnected.
Artwork in process – “Praying for my enemies”
I first worked on this canvas over a year ago while dealing with a very difficult person in my life. This is one of the ways I chose to process my feelings.
This is how it stayed for about a year. This is on a stretched canvas, with acrylic paint I applied with my fingers. I then added silver sharpie light language. It is my prayer for healing for our relationship.
Here it is at a different angle so you can see the light language prayer.
In part because I’m learning about layering collage, and in part because new canvases are expensive and take up a lot of space, I’m using old artworks to add new material. The focus is the same, but now about a different person and series of issues.
Here I’ve added washi tape.
Then I painted a layer of gesso on it in random swirls, obscuring some of the image.
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More layers are to be added.
Gnossienne
Gnossienne
n. a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life, and somewhere in the hallways of their personality is a door locked from the inside, a stairway leading to a wing of the house that you’ve never fully explored—an unfinished attic that will remain maddeningly unknowable to you, because ultimately neither of you has a map, or a master key, or any way of knowing exactly where you stand.
Art paper from Tim Holtz’ “Distress” line, old Asian map, card stock that was colored with Distress inks and stains and then coated with glazing medium and cut up, old stamps.
Anecdoche
This speaks to the fakeness of so many people – of those who want to compete in conversations, always talking but never saying anything. Each sentence is like a domino, where they connect their experience next to that of the person who just spoke, and then divert the conversation away from them and to themselves. Nobody is ever heard. It is a game where everyone loses.
Anecdoche
n. a conversation in which everyone is talking but nobody is listening, simply overlaying disconnected words like a game of Scrabble, with each player borrowing bits of other anecdotes as a way to increase their own score, until we all run out of things to say.
(I created the art paper myself using card stock, Distress stains, glazing medium)
Fata Organa
Fata Organa
n. a flash of real emotion glimpsed in someone sitting across the room, idly locked in the middle of some group conversation, their eyes glinting with vulnerability or quiet anticipation or cosmic boredom—as if you could see backstage through a gap in the curtains, watching stagehands holding their ropes at the ready, actors in costume mouthing their lines, fragments of bizarre sets waiting for some other production.
Daguerreologue
Daguerreologue
n. an imaginary interview with an old photo of yourself, an enigmatic figure who still lives in the grainy and color-warped house you grew up in, who may well spend a lot of their day wondering where you are and what you’re doing now, like an old grandma whose kids live far away and don’t call much anymore.
Fitzcarraldo
Fitzcarraldo
n. an image that somehow becomes lodged deep in your brain—maybe washed there by a dream, or smuggled inside a book, or planted during a casual conversation—which then grows into a wild and impractical vision that keeps scrambling back and forth in your head like a dog stuck in a car that’s about to arrive home, just itching for a chance to leap headlong into reality.
Into the deep (further work, as of 4-7-16)
I’m still not sure if this is done. Perhaps another year will pass before I see what needs to be done. The dark blue is too intense, but I also don’t want to essentially copy the color scheme I used with a recent piece. I’ve added so much detail to the blue that I kind of don’t want to cover it up, but perhaps the detail wasn’t enough to fix the problem. Or maybe “art is in the eye of the beholder” and someone else will like it.
11 x 14 canvas
Acrylic paint
Stamps
Gel pens
Tissue dyed with distress ink
Broken key
Glitter gem
Chalk pen
Decoupage glue
Glazing medium
Pages from a Jacque Cousteau book.
Whole
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betsybeadhead 
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