Bathing suit season

I just finished these two pieces for a commission. Well, to be honest, I'm not certain they are finished. I haven't sealed them or even named them. They are sitting on one of the work tables 'til I'm sure they don't need anything else. (SOLD)

The request was for a piece using '40s bathing suits. I found these illustrations in my fashion stash and decided to make two collages while I was at it. The 95+ temperatures here may have inspired me, that or my longing this summer to be down the shore.

It's difficult to see but each background is composed of multiple pieces with the one on the right made up of four images from recycled catalogs. The shells are both old (19th century) and new (recycled greeting cards). 4.5" x 6.5" each on archival mat boards with ink and watercolor.

Lost and found

My husband, Mark, and I hunted for years for a box of books that we were certain had to be in the house. We looked high and low, that is, from the basement to the attic, and the rooms in between. I was desperate to find it, because it contained four of the 12 volumes in Andrew Lang's famed, fairy tale collection: Blue Fairy Book (1889), Red Fairy Book (1890), Green Fairy Book (1892) and Yellow Fairy Book (1894). I loved these books and was mystified by their disappearance.

Unfortunately, we found the box after a pipe burst in the basement. Seems it had been mislabeled. Gulp, by me. It broke my heart to discover that not only were my books damaged, but so were a dozen or so books that had belonged to Mark's mother when she was a child.

The fairy books didn't survive but we saved most of my late mother-in-law's books - and that's where the illustrations here come in. They are by Pauli Ebner, who I assumed was a man. Wrong. Pauli, I discovered, was a variation of Pauline or Paula. Ebner (1873-1949) is well-known to postcard collectors but wasn't on my radar even though a quick look through my collection this week turned up quite a few of her postcards (take a peek of four others via the New York Public Library's digital gallery).

The only way to describe her style is as sweet. It's soothing, winsome and oh-so-easy to imagine sharing with a child. I removed damaged areas and managed to save every color plate. Now, I'm at a loss as to whether I should frame them, sell them as is or use them in my collages - my usual dilemma.

  

Butterflies: 3

Isn't that calligraphic background spectacular? It's an original plate of a hand-drawn pen illustration from "Gaskell's Penman's Handbook" (1883) and there is a tiny butterfly in it toward the top right edge of the plate. Sections of other plates from "Golden Gems of Penmanship" (1884) make up the body and top layer of the large butterfly, and the handwork theme is carried over into the middle layer via the antique, hand-marbled endpapers. 

I liked the idea of combining the calligraphy with the printed lists, one of which is an almost tissue-thin page from the Holland "Butterfly Book" I've been mining.  The pages helped protect the color plates in the book, as well as identifying the butterflies. I used another one on April, where it became semi-transparent. 10.5" x 7.75" on archival mat board with ink, watercolor and specimen pins. In a cloth-covered, 11" x 8.5" shadowbox that is ready to hang. 

Butterflies: 2

Here's the second collage in the butterfly series. I popped it onto the scanner rather than shooting a photo, because when I have it in the shadowbox, it's difficult to shoot. So, keep in mind that about an inch of the edges is covered by the shadow box.

As mentioned before, these started out as simple, decorative collages but as they grew, I decided to add elements about collecting. A Victorian obsession if ever there was one. That's where the text on the left comes in, and because it references caterpillars, I located some to place beside it. Both are from the "Butterfly Book" by W.J. Holland (Doubleday, Page & Co., 1902) that I've been pilfering for all it's worth - as are a few of the butterflies.

Of note is the flower background. I found two vintage Dover books of iron-ons and bought them with the intention of seeing whether the images could be ironed on to paper as a different kind of image transfer. I tried it and it works, but what also interested me was that the images had begun transferring onto each other over the years. You can see faint outlines of the image that was after this one in the background. So, I opted to use the entire page as is.  10.5" x 7.75" on archival mat board with ink, watercolor and specimen pins. Mounted in a cloth-covered, 8.5" x 11" shadowbox and ready to hang.

Butterflies: 1

So, this is what happened with the square-shaped butterfly collage mentioned in the last post. Now titled "Butterflies: 1." Yeah, not too creative. Most likely, I'll rename it, as often happens and is one reason I stopped writing titles on the mats!

In any case, not much changed on the piece. I moved the red butterfly, which was cut from a recycled greeting card, to the bottom. The orientation of the main butterfly was altered, and antennae and a body were added. A small gold butterfly was tucked under the quote and, hmm, there seem to be more changes than I thought.

I wanted to soften the quote but didn't want to use paint. I turned to my tissue paper bins - yes, I save all the tissue paper from gifts I receive - where I found a pale blue piece. Once it was down - but not glued on yet - I realized it would draw attention away from the butterflies. Then, I found a white-on-white, flower-patterned piece. The pattern is lost against the white background of the quote but it provides some cover over the text, which is what I was looking for. 7.5" x 7.5" on archival mat board with ink, watercolor and acrylic paint. Matted to fit a standard 12" x 12" frame.

Comic rollerskaters

 

I landed this group of four Victorian images in a box filled to the top with fantastic trade cards. But there was a problem: the bottom of the box had gotten wet, so some cards were stuck together and a few - luckily, just a few - were damaged beyond repair. I managed to separate the ones stuck together with minimal damage, because the book store owner who sold them - who was upfront about the water - clued me in on how to do it: submerse them in water and let them sit for a while. I know, it's counterintuitive. But it works. These inks are permanent, and trade card paper generally is thick and sturdy.

After some research, I discovered that a blank white band on the bottom of the cards had been trimmed and that these were part of a set of 14 stock cards. That is, cards left blank on the bottom and on the back so that they could be ordered by any business to advertise. These were printed by Clay & Richmond of Buffalo, N.Y., but you'll find plenty examples of the same cards printed by other printers - as well as other roller skating cards - at tradecards.com.

I'm not sure how I'll use these yet. But love the image of the two girls. The first roller derby queens?

Butterflies ...

I can't explain it but butterflies are popping up in many recent collages. So, I decided it was time to create a few pieces that focused on butterflies. Initially, I was inspired by a simple, crafty greeting card with a triple-layered butterfly that I spotted in a catalog retrieved by a friend from a recycling bin. "I can do that," I told myself, thinking I was getting into a relatively easy series. Wrong. As you will see in the photos that follow, "easy" isn't in my vocabulary. Ignore the mats, I use them as cropping devices.

The original easy idea (above). Stacked butterfly. Background. Piece o' cake.

Larger version. I've been itching to use the 12" x 12" mats bought last month. The background is from a vintage book on drawing animals, the quote is from a photographic essay about butterflies and the red butterfly was clipped from a recycled greeting card in the stash. Oh, the main butterfly; it was cut from a combo of a greeting card, a catalog and vintage wallpaper.

  
While on my butterfly binge, I cut four large butterflies from a variety of sources. This one is typographic and placed on a calligraphic background from a 19th century book on penmanship. It's in a shadow box and that was the final evolution of three of the pieces. I've almost wrapped them up and you'll be seeing the finished collages within the next few days.

You don't know what you got 'til it's gone

During last night's open studio, I sold "Domino effect," the first post on this blog.

The reason I'm bringing this up? Well, a few months ago a former editor of mine, Jan Leach, asked me whether I would miss a collage once it was gone. I was pretty cavalier about it, shrugging off the question with a quick "Nah." I've sold plenty of pieces since with no sense of loss ... until this week.

I lived with "Domino Effect" for close to a year and grew to like its simplicity and wit. Beyond that, I had a sentimental attachment to it, because it was one of the first pieces I made after moving into my first studio, which was at the Woman's Art Club of Cincinnati in Mariemont.

There, I was welcomed and nurtured by Diana Taylor, president of the club. The Barn - yes, it is a beautifully renovated barn - houses a handful of studios. Much to my surprise, most of the artists were never there. So, Diana became my sounding board. She has a keen and critical eye, and let me bounce ideas off her when she could spare a minute or two from her hectic schedule. She also was a fantastic cheerleader, boosting my morale and giving me confidence.

I moved to my current studio at Brazee Street Studios after six months at The Barn for a number of reasons; primary among them: I can walk there, the studio is bigger, the complex houses close to 20 artists - and most of them are at work nearly every day. This group offers the same support that Diana did and have made me feel part of the larger artist community. But I still miss her - and now I miss the collage that reminded me of how welcoming and patient she was to an emerging artist with a lot to learn.

Yum! More tag mania

Well, I did it. During the past week, I focused solely on one theme for the tags. Food, well, a sub theme: dessert. Even at that, I ended up with an unusual number of cakes. Partly because I'm saving pies for a future project and partly because while combing my archive, I realized how few images of other desserts are in it. Time to shop. Oh, about the circles, its a new shape for the line. I don't think these will be mistaken for bookmarks.