autumn, trees, and atlanta

This has been a beautiful Utah fall for me to enjoy while walking my dog each day. It’s gotten me thinking about autumns of years past, and recalling my time living in Atlanta after college.

Before that, back when I was studying at BYU, the grad student from Georgia who was teaching my German class made a comment once about there not being any trees in Utah. I had grown up in Utah and didn’t think he made any sense. I mean, there’s a tree. And there’s a tree. And there’s a tree. But when I moved to Georgia a few years later, I suddenly understood what he’d been saying. The trees in Georgia are enormous compared to Utah trees, and even in the city of Atlanta they are everywhere. Autumn towered over you. Spring, between the dogwoods and the magnolias, was stunningly sweet.

Interesting tree-based story from my time in Atlanta: I may be getting some of the details wrong, but the gist is that every time there was a storm in Atlanta (and there were some good storms in Atlanta), there would be news afterwards of large downed limbs, some blocking roads or taking power lines with them. Cleanup crews got busy, restored order, and awaited the next storm. I assumed this was the regular rhythm of life in the city, but apparently it had been a recent development. The story someone told me was that about a hundred years before I moved there, the city of Atlanta started planting lots of one particular kind of tree. It must have been one that grew reliably, or did whatever people would want a city tree to do. The one catch, apparently, was that the tree had a life expectancy of about one hundred years, at which point the limbs began to break off spectacularly in storms as the tree weakened and failed. And I guess I had arrived just in time for the fallout to be part of my (wonderful) Atlanta experience.

I still like the smaller scale autumns that Utah has to offer. The leaves still crunch satisfyingly under my feet when they’re freshly fallen. The colors still stir my soul. And the chill air still makes the world sweeter. But I’ve enjoyed walking down memory lane a little. Thanks for coming along, and hopefully we can do it again soon.

upcoming debut at the Utah Art Market

I received notice a few weeks ago that I have been accepted to participate in this year’s Holiday Utah Art Market December 3-6 at the Town and Country Plaza in Millcreek, Utah. Participating in this market is an honor, and I hope to put my best foot forward. Taking lessons I learned from the Beehive Bazaar in September, I’ve reserved a larger space for my display and will be adjusting my setup. I am also excited that I will be offering a new line of pieces, all 5×5″ squares framed beautifully in two-tone natural wood. (No photos yet—stay tuned for those.)

For those of you who are veterans of the art market world, you probably know how eager I am to make the most of this opportunity. If you are looking for holiday gifts for discerning loved ones, please come visit the Holiday Utah Art Market. You’ll find something special, I guarantee.

Holiday Utah Art Market
December 3-6, (Dec 3-5: 10AM-7PM, Dec 6: 10AM-5PM)
Town & Country Plaza, 3330 South 1300 East, Millcreek, UT

expanding my portfolio

I’ve been expanding my portfolio with these pieces meant for tabletop display, which are available in two sizes: 5×7 and 6×8 inches. I initially experimented with using amber glass instead of clear in these pieces, but eventually gravitated back to clear glass. I just love it! If you want a bit of decor on a surface while maintaining airy whitespace, the clear glass works. And if you want to add layers in front of other artwork without completely blocking the view, clear glass works!

reaching

The central concept behind “Reaching” is to illustrate a long-term process of reaching for something higher — for help from a higher being, and for a higher version of yourself. Finding a way to express that concept beautifully in stained glass feels like a substantial achievement. The time spent in the design stage alone for this piece almost equaled the entire time spent on my previous largest stained glass project.

Design began with the goal of creating a piece made curving lines. One little sketch, then another. Then a full-size drawing which I thought had a pretty solid design, but which ended up being surpassed several times over as I finally crafted the design on a computer. Allowing the top border of the piece to climb higher from left to right was what made me think this could be the right opportunity to capture the idea of reaching.

Then the glass work: selecting, cutting, grinding. Selecting alternatives for certain pieces, re-cutting, re-grinding. Then wrapping the edges of each glass piece with copper foil. If you’ve done stained glass work yourself, you may agree that this is the step where an artist might lose heart if she isn’t careful.

Lastly arriving at the soldering stage, then finishing touches: edging the overall piece with zinc for stability, applying a patina to the solder, and cleaning and polishing every surface. The bespoke frame built by Ashby Frames with a matte black inner level and a lustrous metallic outer sets it all off so well.

This isn’t the first time I’ve made an effort to express the idea of reaching in art, but it is the first time the medium, concept, design, and artist have matched so well with the task. No regrets on bringing this to completion.

the business card art show at the JKR Gallery

In September I will be participating in the annual Business Card Art show at the JKR Gallery in Provo, Utah. For this show, each accepted artist can display up to 10 artworks that are the size of a business card: 2 x 3.5 inches. I enjoyed designing and assembling my 10 pieces, and am excited to see what the other artists prepared! The image at the beginning of this post shows a few of my pieces – you can see the rest on my instagram, and you can of course see the pieces in person at the JKR Gallery from September 5-27.

in returning and rest

The title for this piece comes from a scripture that stood out to me recently: “In returning and rest shall ye be saved; in quietness and in confidence shall be your strength,” Isaiah 30:15. From the beginning this piece has had a feeling of safety and of being at home for me, so the scriptural words of reassurance and calm seemed to fit right in.

working on something fun

A long-lasting arm injury has really slowed down my art production in the past year. As frustrating as it has been, I have a hunch that slowing down so much might have some payoffs. My ideas for the painting I’m working on definitely developed as I inched from one step to the next at a glacial pace. And I discovered that the arm motions involved in making a stained glass piece are actually less brutal on my arm than the repetitive stroke motions of painting.

I took a couple stained glass classes at Holdman Studios and am so glad I did. I liked the teachers, I liked the classmates, and I liked the medium. I’ve now set up a work station for stained glass in my garage and hope to be finishing some cool projects soon (or eventually, at least).

Have you ever had the joy of choosing panes of stained glass? What a thrill it was to shop at Western Art Glass for some of my first pieces of glass. And that first night of the class I took at Holdman Studios? It’s honestly lucky I didn’t trip and spill the loads of glass I was carrying as I excitedly speed-walked around the studio, choosing and unchoosing glass. I kept reminding myself to slow down, but it was not easy.

anchored

I’ve been dwelling a lot lately on the idea of being anchored, along with what it means to “belong to yourself” like Brene Brown talks about in her book, Braving the Wilderness. When this image first came into my mind, the woman was holding something in her hands. As it developed, though, I realized all she needed to be holding was herself, her hands creating an anchor point at her center.

Oil on hardboard, 14″x14″.

shining a little light

This piece was inspired by a colorful little desk lamp that I have. For three months last fall I was staying in a friend’s spare bedroom while I waited to get into a place of my own. It was wonderful to have a place to stay, but the feeling that it wasn’t really my home was strong. Plus, it was fall/winter and very dark and cold outside. I started taking special notice of how a little lamplight or candlelight could turn that little spare room into a cozy sanctuary. It reminded me that a little golden glow can make a big difference.

Oil on hardboard, 10.25×14 inches.