Variations on a Theme
In each issue of Somerset Studio, there’s a feature called, “With One Stamp.” Various artists are given the same stamp and told to make something with it; cards, assemblages, paintings. The different ways people see one single image has always amazed me – perception of the world from the eyes of strangers and the like. We are, each of us, the sum of our experiences, environments, and personalities, and bring such different ideas to the table.
I don’t have the luxury of living near a group of artsy women (or men!) I can call together and make art with, and so, I figured I was enough to experiment with that same idea: one theme/image, several pieces, different sittings.
You know those stories you hear? Of artists who spend days, weeks, months, years on one painting or piece? Yeah, I’ve never been like that. I either finish a page or painting in one sitting, or it never gets finished (though I have gotten into the habit of leaving the doodling for later and have some pages desperately in need of my boredom). I’ve always been like that, though mostly with writing; I create playlists in order to cheat and re-create the original mood.
Moods, I’ve found, are hard to capture.
But they do lend to interesting study. One day to the next, one moment to the next, our mood changes. Not only our mood, but our experiences. Consider a good day that changes because of a missed phone call or connection – a piece created in the morning would be completely different if created that night.
This brings up the question of how a mood changes, and if such variances can be traced. Like the rolling waves of the ocean, we move up and down as we go through life, and, as artists, express the highs and lows through images and colors. Some add words. But the intent is the same – to help others understand and feel as you do, if only for a second. My current infatuation with silhouettes began when I bought my first roll of freezer paper. After reading about all the wonderful things you can do with it for a year or so, I decided to give it a shot; I bought some from the grocery store, came home, and sat, thinking, of what to do with it.
A few days earlier, I’d found some natural, unbleached canvas at Wal-Mart for a cheap $4 a yard, and grabbed some, intending to color it with oil pastels and play around. Maybe decorate it and sew it into a nice summer tote. So when I got home with the freezer paper, I had a nice piece of canvas just begging to be used.
And what’s easier to stencil than a solid shape like a silhouette?
That project turned into an article (that I hope to get published one day), and while brainstorming, I figured I should make some more examples to help boost my chances. While searching the ‘net for royalty free silhouettes, I found one that spoke to me. The hair, the face….I was entranced by this black and white representation of a girl I’ll never know, and had to print it out immediately.
First, she went into a page where I was playing around with layering lights and darks, as well as making those fun paint drips I adore. She fit, and I loved the piece so much, I
attempted to translate it to canvas (which didn’t work the same as it did on paper, and hangs unfinished on my inspiration cork board).
Then, yesterday, I was playing around with that canvas I had, using a technique from Claudine Hellmuth’s second book to color canvas with water-soluble oil pastels. Layering the colors was a ball, and I thought, “Why not make a fabric collage? You’ve never really done that before.”
So, I pulled out some fabric scraps and gel pens and got to work….and decided my silhouette girl would look perfect on some canvas.
By this point, the original cardstock stencil was looking a little…loved, to put it nicely. Several layers of paint circled the edges. Part of her hair, delicate strands cut patiently with an exacto knife, had broken away from the head. It wouldn’t survive another piece. But the paint had added a new dimension to this black stencil, and if I held it at arm’s length, you could almost see an eye above the dainty nose.
I ended our brief love affair the only way a journal artist could – immortalized the stencil in my journal. The page she ended up on, however, wasn’t the one I intended. Bored, and a bit tired, I started making squares of color with oil pastels and blending them for fun. Just swirling the oils around, dripping water where crayon-like marks showed through, giving no thought to what I’d
do with the page. When I finished, I didn’t like the background, and wanted to cover it up.
And then I spied my little stencil, and thought, hey – why not put her here?
Now, I have three (or four) pieces to look upon and see how differently the silhouette looks in each piece…and how my moods had changed while working on them. This tangible timeline will, I hope, prove useful when I’m grasping for straws and need something to give me a little creative boost.
That, or I could always print off another silhouette.



