Art Retreat in France: Packing My Supplies

 

Just a few more days and then I'm off to France! My first holiday in three years: Le Vieux Couvent and a splash ink class with my friend and art teacher, Ming Franz. Along with 15 other splash ink enthusiasts, I will be gone for two weeks, ending with a final day and night in Toulouse before our flight home.

I've wanted to take a workshop at Le Vieux Couvent ever since I first heard about it in a Domestika class during the pandemic. The course instructor posted on his website that if and when the travel restrictions were lifted, he would be teaching his next workshop there. I remember thinking about how much fun a trip like that would be and how much I wanted to go. Unfortunately, I never got there--until now when Ming told me she was teaching a class in that very spot and I couldn't wait to sign up.

And as excited as I am to finally be going to Le Vieux, there remains a certain bittersweet element to the timing. Back during Covid when I was daydreaming about painting mini-masterpieces close to Cathar country (I'm obsessed with Cathar history), my husband was still alive making great plans of his own. He thought it would be an amazing opportunity to accompany me on the trip not as an art student, but to go vintage car hunting. He had heard of a local car rental company hiring out vintage vehicles and couldn't make up his mind whether we would rent a Lamborghini or just a plain old MGB for touring the Dordogne when my workshop finished. The idea was that while we were out driving, we'd be looking for a vintage auto or motorcycle to buy and bring home for restoration. It was a wonderful plan. Except you know what they say about plans.

Obviously, things didn't work out so well. Instead of packing for two and wondering if I'd be needing a headscarf in case we ended up in a convertible, I'm doing my best to prepare for my first solo attempt at "I-can-do-it travel" without having a non-stop panic attack. To keep myself as distracted as possible, I've been concentrating on accumulating travel art supplies--both the required ones for the course and a complement of fun items for my own daily sketching.

Splash ink, or po-mo to use the correct Chinese term, requires some heavy-duty accoutrements: large sheets of mulberry paper, trays to place the paper in, jars and jars of liquid watercolor and sumi ink, and a wide variety of additional bits and pieces not that easy to travel with. Thankfully Ming will be bringing the paper and paints, but to help lighten the load we've all been asked to bring the following items for individual studio use:

• 12 plastic spoons
• 12 plastic cups
• 1 roll of Frog tape
• 1 apron
• 1 pair of rubber gloves
• plastic wrap
• 1 hake brush
• 4 watercolor brushes, flats and rounds
• 1 mixing palette 
• 1 spray bottle
  

Also required is a roll of heavy duty foil. Again, thankfully, another participant has offered to bring a roll to share with me, and I am very grateful!

So now that I have that all done, my next step is choosing the sketching supplies for my personal use outside of the class, and believe me, choosing the "right stuff" has not been easy. I have dithered and re-thought and changed my mind so many times (including the middle of the night when I jumped out of bed to add yet one more perfect pencil to the pile) I am sure one of my conclusions was to "not bring anything at all." However, I think I have finally settled on my will-not-change kit and this is it:

• A tiny tray of Daniel Smith watercolors. The set I have here began life as the DS urban "Sketcher Set" created by artist Liz Steel of only six colors, but since buying it I have added some personal favorites, including Buff Titanium and Undersea Green. 
  
• A Hannemuhle concertina watercolor sketchbook. I bought this particular sketchbook at Christmas to start a series of "Bunny in the Snow" paintings that morphed into "Bunny Goes Wild" drawings in a completely different sketchbook I won't be taking with me. (The story of my life.) The reason I chose to bring the concertina book on this trip was a) it's very lightweight, and b) I thought it would be fun to experiment with a continuous sketch that filled a single book from front to back, cover to cover, and c) it was just sitting there on the shelf, so why not? Use it or lose it.
  
• A pad of high-quality bright white drawing paper made by Peter Pauper Press. This will be for some "Bunny in France" (or any other animals I may encounter) thumbnail sketches.
  
• 3 waterbrushes: 2 flats, 1 round. Tip for traveling with waterbrushes: do not fill with water until you arrive at your destination, and keep the brush section very loosely attached to the barrel while you travel. If you tighten the sections together too strongly, the compression in the plane can lock everything up and prevent you from taking the brush apart to fill with water when you're ready to do so. Which means you will break it, like I did on a previous flight.
  
• 1 woodless pencil made in Italy that is the most expensive pencil I have ever bought in my life (and it was even at a discounted price). But it is beautiful, doesn't roll off the table, and is the best bunny drawing pencil money can buy. 
• 1 Bic #7 mechanical pencil for detail drawing.
  
• 1 thick lead sketching pencil for shading and because I bought it on a trip to the Metropolitan Museum in New York years ago it carries happy memories. (I bought a few of them in case you were wondering how one pencil could last so long.)
  
• 1 Koh-i-noor Magic pencil. These pencils are indeed magic. Several shades of color all combined into one lead, they are super fun to use whenever you want to quickly add some color to any kind of sketch.
  
• 1 gray shading flexible fiber tip pen. (Confession: I don't really like this pen, but it seemed a good opportunity to use it up and toss it before I go home. My hope is that I will actually grow to like it and discover all kinds of interesting uses for it. Maybe.)
  
• 2 #8 black Gelly pens. I love these pens in all their colors, but black seemed the most sensible for this trip. I am bringing two so that I have one for writing as well as drawing.
  
• 1 double-hole pencil sharpener so that I can sharpen both my large and regular-size pencils.
  
• 1 black eraser. I try not to use an eraser but sometimes they are a life-saver. Black erasers are my favorites.
  
• 1 glue stick. Besides being handy for pasting ticket stubs, fortune cookie wisdom, and any other strange little bits of ephemera inside my sketchbook, the ability to collage or simply paste a clean piece of paper over a failed sketch is one of life's great creative miracles.
  
•  2 binder clips to hold my sketchbook flat.
  
• 1 six-inch plastic ruler to help with my terrible sense of perspective as well as possibly helping me to draw straight lines. (Or that's the hope at any rate.)
  
• 1 zippered pouch (made from recycled soda bottles) declaring my eternal love for cats. The pouch is small but big enough to hold absolutely everything other than the sketchbook and pad.

Because I will also be writing as well as painting, I'll have this cute Moleskine cachet journal handy featuring a Van Gogh sunflower study on the cover. A friend recently brought it home from Europe for me and it's a great reminder to stay loose, stay happy, and stay creative every day! (Thank you, Sue!)

 

Tip of the Day: Seize the day. Go for it. Just do it. Yes--and all the other clichés you can think of. They're true. They're real. They're the best advice ever. So what are you waiting for? Whether it's starting your novel, buying your first sketchbook, or wanting to travel to Siberia--take the leap, because . . . if not now, when?

Picture Book Check-in: Sketching The White Pony

Practice page from my White Pony sketchbook

This year I'm once again helping to organize the Enchantment Show here in Albuquerque, a local art and writing event presented by the New Mexico chapter of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators. Basically, the show turns the usual way of producing a children's picture- or story book on its head: instead of a writer submitting a story to a publishing house and then the house assigning an illustrator to produce the pictures, we invite illustrators to paint or draw to a theme (this year it's Serenity) and then assign writers to write the accompanying stories. It's an awful lot of fun for everyone involved, and my main job is to match the artists with their writing buddies and to make sure everything is ready for our show deadline of June 1.

What this has to do with today's post is that I've been inspired to take this same approach to my own work-in-progress picture book, The White Pony, a project that's been dear to my heart for, gosh, a couple of years now. My title and inspiration comes from a book of Chinese poetry I bought decades ago for the grand sum of 25 cents at a Friends of the Library sale in Carrollton, Georgia. Most of the poems are hundreds, if not thousands, of years old, and some of the best poetry I've ever read. When I took my first splash ink class with artist Ming Franz, the friend I traveled to Taiwan with, I immediately thought the work I created with her was perfect for illustrating fairy tales. And that lead me to think of The White Pony and how I could turn it into a children's picture book.

Ever since then I've been working hard to "play" with splash ink or splash color techniques and learning to draw horses. Some days I feel I will be learning to draw horses for the rest of my life, but that's also how I feel about all my artistic endeavors anyway. Which is how all this relates to the Enchantment Show.

For a long time I thought I had to write my story first, and it wasn't easy. I didn't know whether I wanted to just illustrate some of the poems, or write some complicated story about a princess who wanted a pony, or a boy who wanted to find a pony for a princess, or a pony that wanted to find a pony friend . . . and on and on and on until I was totally blocked. The one thing I did know is that I wanted to paint the pony and his environment, but I just didn't know what to do with him as far as a story went.

Several months ago I decided this wasn't getting me anywhere fast and that what I really needed to do was follow the example of the Enchantment Show: paint first, write later. I've never been happier with a creative decision. 

To experiment with ideas for my illustrations, I worked in a small Stillman and Birn sketchbook, plus used some larger sheets of multi-media paper to create thumbnails and to lay out color palettes for how I would like the finished book to look:
 

There will be goldfish!

 And even a pony eventually!

I do know the changing seasons are going to be part of the story too. Here we have Spring.

  And Winter . . .

Summer turning into Autumn!

My main method of starting the sketches was to simply lay down random watercolor washes throughout the sketchbook and then try to "see the pictures" in the washes. The technique is very loosely based on the Chinese splash ink tradition, and one that matches my way of writing based on random prompts, whether it's for my art journal or a full-blown novel.

My primary drawing supplies have included Akashiya Sai watercolor pens, Caran d'Ache Museum Aquarelle watercolor pencils, Kuretake watercolors including their "Starry Nights" set of gold-range watercolors (love, love, love), and sumi or Black Magic ink and dip pen.

Now that my sketchbook is filled though, I'm gearing up for Phase II: good paper! Final drafts! Let's paint those ponies for real! After that, well, hopefully I'll come up with an actual story. But for now, I'm letting the illustrations guide my imagination. As the saying goes, somewhere in all that manure there has to be a pony, right? Draw it and the stories will appear. Yes.

Tip of the Day: How can the concept of "pictures first, write later" help your own writing project: screenplay, poetry, memoir, or novel? Keep in mind that you certainly don't have to draw your own--just a handful of magazine cut-outs arranged into an evocative sequence are often more than enough to jump start a multitude of WIPs!

Got My Chop: Happy Little Cat!

Introducing: Happy Little Cat,
my new stone seal
all the way from Taiwan!

Finally getting a chance to catch up with my blog again after another long break. The reason for my absence this time has been, what else, editing. Each time I thought I was finished editing my WIP, oops, oh no, there was more work on my plate. However, I am now finished, as in one-hundred-percent finished. The final draft of  my new novel, The Abyssal Plain, is ready for submission to agents and editors alike. Which means that other than my daily freewriting (flash fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, whining), I'm planning to spend the rest of the year concentrating on establishing "Happy Little Cat," an online studio/shop that will include visual art, pottery, jewelry, and of course, books. I'm more than excited. And as you can see in the photo above, I even got a special seal carved to celebrate my debut, although . . .

. . . there's a certain irony to finally getting my seal made.

Backstory: Prior to leaving for my trip to Taiwan, my fellow travelers and I were emailed an itinerary of our day-to-day activities. One of the things listed for the first day was to visit an art supply store where we could order carved seals or "chops" as they are sometimes called. Back in March I was pretty sure I didn't need anything remotely like a carved seal, and when we did get to the art store, I was so fixated on buying a replacement for my broken water brush (you can read about that little misadventure here), that choosing a nice rock was the last thing on my mind. Other reasons for not wanting a seal included the fact that I didn't think "Valerie" sounded very Chinese, especially when I didn't paint in a Chinese or Asian style. Or at least I didn't then.

Fast forward to this summer and post-trip when I found myself still obsessed with everything Taiwanese. I bought a book on Chinese brush painting. I bought Chinese watercolors. I studied the books I bought in Taiwan on painting trees and tigers. Somewhere in the midst of all this enthusiasm for sumi ink and bamboo pens I had the profound realization that I loved Asian art and wanted to include as much of it as I could (given my limited and "beginner's mind" skills) in my own work. At the same time I very quickly learned something was vitally missing from all my pieces: my seal!

Immediately I started regretting my decision to forego buying a seal in Taipei when I had the chance. Things reached a crisis point when I attended a reception for the New Mexico Art League and saw a stunning floral watercolor painted by our Taiwan tour leader, Ming Franz, that naturally included her seal. My husband asked why I hadn't bought one. How could I be so remiss? Or so silly? I had to get that seal.

After some extensive online research, I found a great company, Asian Brush Art. They had the stones, the carver, great pricing and a nice feel to their website that encouraged me to go ahead and place my order. The big question now, though, was what was I going to have carved on the stone? I still didn't want to use my name. That's when I had the idea to describe not me personally, but how I feel about life and art in general: I feel like a Happy Little Cat. I asked the company if there was enough room on the stone for the characters; they said yes, and ta-dah, I have my own seal at last.

The best surprise of all was that the seal came not from the company's mailing address in North Carolina, but from Taiwan! What are the odds? And not just any place in Taiwan, but from one of my favorite stops on the tour: Kaohsiung. I was thrilled.

I'm still learning to use the seal properly, experimenting with how to tap and dip it into the special red ink paste which was included with my order (I tell you, this company was great). The hardness of the stone and the creaminess of the ink are both very different from my past experiences (and failures) with rubber stamping, so I'm still in "test" mode, but I'm getting there. My best impressions so far have resulted from placing a piece of folded felt under my paper before pressing down with the seal. The sample at the top here is in on rice paper. (Expanding the size of the photo made the edges go fuzzy. They don't look like that in real life.) After playing around with the rice paper, I moved on to stamping some artwork I had recently finished using various supplies (including my trusty bamboo pen) on Arches 140-lb cold press watercolor paper:

Splash Ink Goldfish.
Sumi ink, watercolor, and gouache
on Arches watercolor paper.

Lanyang Museum, Taiwan.
Watercolor, sumi ink, colored pencil
on Arches watercolor paper.

Kwan Yin.
Watercolor, sumi ink, colored pencil
on Arches watercolor paper.

Some of the best images I was able to achieve (and of course I don't have any photos just when I need one to show you) were from using the seal on kraft paper cardstock gift tags, the same tags I experimented with last year applying collage and stick-on "pearls," (examples shown here).

So where I am now is I need to stop playing with my seal and use it for real: getting down to work to fill the shelves of Happy Little Cat Studio. It's going to take me a while to build up my inventory and then incorporate everything into my website, but it's a project I'm looking forward to. I'm also planning on illustrating some of my books for the first time, a great combination of my two favorite disciplines: writing AND painting.

For more information on the history of carved seals and their use, here's a good Wikipedia link to start with, but there are many, many other sites to investigate. My Happy Little Cat seal is carved in what is called "yin style," meaning that the characters are carved into the stone, leaving a red impression around them, as opposed to "yang style" which leaves white space around red characters.

It's also very common to use more than one seal in a painting, e.g., a "mood seal," a bit of poetry, etc., etc., and that's where things get really scary. Because I have a strong suspicion I'm going to want more seals in the future, which also describes me to a T--going from not wanting a seal at all, to now wanting a dozen. Go figure, LOL! Whatever, I love this first seal, I thought it turned out beautifully, and being the first it will always be special. Very happy, indeed.

Tip of the Day: Getting my seal was another step toward creating my "personal brand," something I first blogged about over 5 years ago (!). You can read the post here: What's Your Brand? Although you might find the idea of "branding" somewhat restrictive, it can also be a great help in defining your work to both yourself and your audience. Just for fun, brainstorm a list of 12 things you could use or do that would identify your work as uniquely yours. You might just want a seal of your own.