Brad's 35th birthday left him feeling off center

Brad started as a another techniques and composition practice session, this time in glazing a background, stenciling, and repetition. He took on a life of his own as the piece progressed. It always interests me to see how different a piece is at the end than I thought it would be at the beginning. I'll have to do a step-by-step post - when I remember to snap in-process photos, that is.  9" x 7" on archival mat board

Spring

This is one in a series of long, narrow collages that are part of an effort to try new shapes and sizes, and to - literally - make my work grow. It's a mixed-media piece that includes a vintage book jacket, hand-made lace painted with acrylics, a postcard back, an image transfer (bird in nest); and antique embroidery engravings at top and bottom from Peterson's Magazine. I'm wrestling with presenting these, that is, whether to mat them or make them wall hangings. 4.5" x 11.5" on canvas.

Take Me Away: 1

Water damage from burst basement pipes almost convinced me to trash a 1922 David McKay Co. edition of "The Adventures of Pinocchio" that belonged to my late mother-in-law. Instead, I removed the end papers and created a pair of collages with them. This one features a vintage map; images from a recent Monet calendar; and shapes hand-punched from recycled greeting cards.  5" x 5" on archival mat board. {Sold}

Oh, in the other collage, a boy replaces the girl and he's propped up on his elbows reading on an adjoining window seat. Also 5" x 5" on archival mat board.

Tight-lipped

This began as a warm-up exercise in which I rifle through a bin of odds & ends such as sections trimmed from collages and small bits that catch my eye. The idea is to grab a handful and make the piece quickly, without thinking. Sometimes, though, thinking cannot be avoided.

After finishing, it seemed to need something. I found it in my library, in the form of a face from a drawing lesson in "The Popular Educator" (Cassell, London, 1862). I decided to add it as a transfer. The thing about transfers is that they're iffy. Usually, they're a last touch and can destroy a piece if, for example, most of the image doesn't transfer or layers under it are pulled off when the transfer paper is lifted. Happily, he went on easily. 5" x 5" on acid-free paper. {Sold}

Tea time

I made this for my friend Ann Hicks, who has an extraordinary dollhouse. The central image is from the same 1905 Prang Educational Co. art instruction manual mentioned a few days ago. Below it is a section of a dollhouse from a 1920s French school primer. The top border's from a 1940s elementary school penmanship text while the bottom one was clipped from the back cover of a mechanical drawing manual (whose date I need to check). The dolls are acrylic gel transfers from an image in the Dec. 1895 issue of The Delineator, a magazine published by Butterick as a vehicle to sell its sewing patterns.

By the way, the splotches of blue ink on the dollhouse were not put there by me. I left them in, because I liked the idea of a child using the book and spilling ink on it. 4" x 6" on acid-free watercolor paper

False Sense of Security: 2

A while back, I started collecting engravings of flora and fauna as I came across them in a variety of Victorian encyclopedias and periodicals. I find them beautiful and exotic. Over the past few months they've become part of a series titled False Sense of Security. Yeah, I'm feeling a little anxious these days. It's leaning toward creatures with highly defensive coverings and protuberances, for which I substitute the modern human defense against identity theft, mail fraud, etc: inside out "security" envelopes. 5" x 5" on acid-free watercolor paper {SOLD}

Rupert prayed for a soft landing

Rupert began as an exercise in techniques: acrylic gel transfer (the building), paint resist (above the building), melted wax (along the edges) and glazing (atop the bottom layer of text from a 1910 woodworking manual). The paint resist area wound up looking like smoke and I recalled seeing flames in a deck of over-sized Tarot cards purchased in Italy 21 years ago. I had just been looking through the deck and knew card in question, The Tower card, also had a man jumping from a tower struck by lightning. As you can imagine, it's not a card you want to see. The collage didn't feel complete until the ball and sheet music with the stirring title "Dare to be Brave" were added. 6.5" x 4.5" on acid-free watercolor paper

Mad Women: Betty was fed up

I've started a series titled Mad Women that's a departure from my usual Victorian-centric work. It was spurred by three great finds: 1940s & '50s sewing catalogs; 1940s women's magazines; and Top Value trading stamp books. My East Coast family was strictly S&H green stamps, so these were new to me.

Happily, I came across some S&H books, too, and acquired more via my thrifty friend Betsa Marsh. She told me she relied on them to acquire appliances and other goods in the early days of her marriage. She kept the ones she hadn't traded in after they were discontinued hoping they'd make a comeback. (Given the economy, it's surprising they haven't.)

The "No" is a piece of a clever "do not disturb" sign that I knew I'd walk off with the moment I saw it on the hotel room door.  6.5" x 4.5" on acid-free watercolor paper (SOLD)

Dream house: before & after

This collage on paper took off from the central image of the doll's house, which came from an elementary school art manual published in 1905 by Prang Educational Co. I strive to use images out of copyright, which I own the rights to or which someone has given me permission to use. This was an attempt at layering - and there are quite a few, composed of vintage geological survey maps, endpapers,   engravings, diagrams and, topping it off, a section from a vintage yard stick. 

The original (top), excluded the girl (below). She was added at the request of the client. I was unsure about the addition. I wrestled with various images until landing on her. In the end, she adds a touch of humanity to a work that was a bit sterile. She also opens up thoughts - at least in my mind - of daydreaming and gender roles, which were only hinted at via the "residence for Mr. & Mrs." label in the top left corner. 

The Grand Tour: 3

One in a continuing series using original engravings from Peterson's Magazine and Godey's Lady's Book. I'm obsessed with 19th century women's magazines and, especially, their "fashion plates." The two monthlies were based in Philadelphia and each had more than 100,000 subscribers in their heyday. Hundreds of women were employed to paint the engravings, making each one an original work of art. But while the engravers, the Illman Brothers of Philadelphia, are credited the women remain anonymous. 

I try to preserve the painted sections and to use tattered plates. (Trust me, no good fashion plate was harmed in the making of these collages). The collages play on the originals' aspirational qualities, as well as commenting on the intricate clothing fashionable women wore whether at home or on the requisite grand tour of the Continent. You'll see more of the series; the new ones are taking an interesting turn. 9.5" x 7.5" on acid-free watercolor paper

Domino effect

I became enamored of the image of the domino bridge and hung it near my work table waiting for inspiration to strike. It did ... in the form of the text from the popular British nursery rhyme "This is the house that Jack Built." The man on the ladder is an acrylic image transfer of a gymnastics illustration from Cassell's "The Popular Educator," a massive mid-19th century encyclopedia offering an education in everything from music to architecture. He was the last touch on the piece. I liked that he was hanging from the ladder and how it looked against the lines of the vintage library date due card. The circles? A recycled gift bag. 6.5" x 4.5" on acid-free watercolor paper   {SOLD}