Works from Encajas

Jugamos el Dictador

Untitled

A,B,C's of being a woman

Opening for EnCajas

Sarah, me and Marcos

And the crowd came...for the art or the free beer, I am not sure which.

I managed to offend this man who later became my friend. The work actually was a great conversation piece.

Post Card

A soul for sale?

At the end of the month I will be showing my work and possibly putting some of it up for sale. I just stare at my work and think how could I do that? It is my heart and soul that I pour into my art and it scares me that I may sell them and never see them again. Perhaps, I am naive. Anyone to share their experience?

An Andalusian February Snowstorm

A few of my favorite things...

Thunderstorms
A hot pot of tea
Walking through a bakery
Warm clothes straight from the dryer
Hanging sheets and standing between them
A snuggily pair of socks
My feet in your hands
Good friends
Swimming naked
Laughing until I hurt
Being at home with snow on the ground
The last 10 pages of a good book
The smell and warmth of something in the oven
The smell of wood
The smell of wetlands mixed with salty air
My cheek next to yours
My toes in mud
Skipping shells at the beach around 5 when the waves have died down
The crazy feeling when I do art
The act of making popcorn
Toast

Plancha de grabado

An assemblage in divine proportion

My reunion with wood

I never was an A student. Much of the time I was lucky if I got a B-. I can clearly remember the two classes I ever got A+'s in in high school: woodshop and philosophy. I loved woodshop. I went to an old quaker school that had a wonderful collection of old tools. There were these great big augers, huge hand saws and beautiful wooden planes at our disposal. I dont think any of us really knew how lucky we were. After graduating, I never worked in wood again until today. I had forgotten the joy of the smell and feel of wood. It was very exciting and I am anticipating some nice things to come from our reunion as well as a few blisters.

If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time.

Si soñar un poco es peligroso, la cura para ello no es soñar menos, sino soñar continuamente.

- Marcel Proust

Musik

Collage: mixed papers.

4 Sarah G

Blazing leaves of fire

are extinguished with crisp air

painting my nose red

Thoughts on art

Dedicated to my new friend Irene.

After a short conversation with Irene today, I finally figured out the words I have been looking for for many years about art interpretation. I find so many of us try to solve this great puzzle of what a piece of art work means, when the answer is quite simple. As they say there are always more than one side to every story and, likewise, here, there are a zillion sides. That is what it makes it so unbelievably beautiful. It starts out with the artist putting their heart and soul into a work. Yes, I suppose we have intentions. However, it is the opinions that follow that give the work its life, what it evokes for each viewer. Today, for example I saw the fine work of an artist in Cordoba that made me think about winters in New Jersey, the blue-violet hues of the snow at dusk, chicadees that are mere sillouettes in the evening light and flocks of late migrating (or rebellous resident) birds. I am sure that was not his motive, but that is what I took from the work. Art is a tool to express as well as evoke feeling. When we only look at what the artist wanted to say then we are not seeing the art, we are having a one-way conversation with the artist where we are not truly involved. It is when we say, "I just hate this piece" or "oh my lordy" that we start to communicate and where art becomes real.

Dedicated to my father.

When I told my father that I was posting my artwork, he became nervious. He said "don't let them steal your ideas". This was interesting because I never really thought about someone copying my work. I only thought about how wonderful it would be to be able to give additional life to my work and get comments about it by sharing it in this arena. Then I thought about my art. Most of it is using "stealing" images or taking found objects that someone else ultimately made and using it to create something new. Am I stealing? I dont think so. John used an image that I also took from elsewhere and gave it a new life. It is like a long food chain that originates from life, nature and our interactions and reactions within it. In the end, art connects us together and to nature.

Homage to Bomba

Assemblage

Haikus of change

winter grey to white
almond blossoms paint the hills
petals laugh at change

the oak stands tall while
autumn strips him of his leaves
then smiles with green buds

Two studies: a pomegranate and a pod

Poppy

poppy in the wind

red headed beauty, laughing

ant climbs out its mouth

Women with Chicken

Pastel on paper

Driftwood memory

Mixed media

Found objects as actors

For me the collection of found objects is a rather spiritual process. Without seeming creepy, I would like to say that objects seem to choose me and can often tell me where they prefer to be located in my pieces. Therefore, I have recently thought that it would not be correct to simply present my work without an explanation of the parts that comprise them. After all, I look at many of my assemblages and collages as if they were freeze frames of theatrical performances. A director would never put on a play without introducing the actors in a playbill so I too would like to introduce you to some of the actors in my work. In the next couple days keep your eyes peeled for my discriptions and stories.

Match box duality

Collage: Mixed media

A love haiku

arise pheonix
from cinnamon ash, divine
crimson-gold embrace

The way to move

Collage: Mixed media

Roof tiles with ethnic patterns

Terracota roof tiles painted with oxides and low fired

Abstract bicycle

Gouache, ink, cante and pastels on paper.

Organised time

Ceramic with oxides, watch pieces, copper wire and ink

PLAYBILL:

All characters in this time skit are from the Madrid Rastro Market. One stand had a plethera of watch pieces. I sat there for about a half hour auditioning possible actors.

The Star Performers

Mr. Wound Too Tight:

It was not until I started truly working with Mr. Wound Too Tight that I got to know him better. As I "dissected" him, I triggered other time systems to be put in motion. By just removing his cover and pulling on a spring I set off all other parts whirling. At first it scared me because I was not expecting him to be so lively but then I thought of it as a type of a tickle game: pull here and his other parts would spin.

Pepita Piece O' Time:

She has been in a long showing broadway performance called "Life on the Arm of Pepita". She then played lead in "Heirloom of the Family". She did some time in a jewlery box for a while and was finally found by a watch piece merchant under the bed of Juana. Her life still remains a bit of an enigma and only can keep us guessing what really transpired while she was in the jewlery box and under Juana's bed. She refuses to speak about that phase of her life.

Sheep with Trout

Collage: Mixed media

PLAYBILL


Bo "I lost my scapula" Lamb

As far as I can remember objects have found their way into my pockets, backpack or purse. I am now 32 years old. However, fifteen years ago I was on one of my many outdoor adventures, hiking the mountains of Colorado. My pack was quite full and we were hiking the back country for serveral days but I was able to find a little spot in my pack for the bone you see in this collage. I imagine it was a sheep that either lost its way and died alone or simply fell sick. The bone had been there quite sometime because it was already picked clean, bleached from the sun and had some lichen on its surface. I kept it till now, dragging it from house to house, New Jersey, Connecticut, Baltimore and now Spain, knowing one day it would find its place.


Betsy "The Iron Sheep" Baaaa

Not too long ago I was at the Seville flee market (Charco de la Pava---Puddle of the Turkey?) and I came across the sheep. A man tried to convince me that the sheep was an ancient artifact. She sat among angels and other figurines. I decided it was due time that she came with me. She went baaa, in confirmation and was in my pocket for exchange of no more than 3 €.


Trout Matchbox

The trout matchbox was acquired after a long hard dig through a wet-from-the-rain cardboard box..During the dig, more than 20 of his friends ended up in a white plastic bag and now sit in my house waiting thier turn to act.

Pebbles Black

This pebble family find their way often into my work. A friend of mine brought them back from Chile. Probably making them the most travelled of my actors: Chile, The States, Spain.

Literature

Collage: Mixed media

A balance in measure

Collage: Mixed media

The Invincible White Owl Performance

Collage: Mixed media and found objects.

Bowl with fish

Ceramic: low fire with oxides, glaze and crushed marbles

A one fish show....

Mr. Dipsie Gillespie Fish:

In the flee market there is a man who sells lead molds to make your own dipsies. This little fish was molded from one of these dipsie molds. We like to tell him, "When you were made the mold was broken." We dont have the heart to tell him the truth, he is one in a million, a million just like him. At least he is on a bowl and doesn't swim with the fishes. That's what I would tell him if he found out the truth.

Inspiration from the cinema.

The following three entries are some of my favorite movies ever.

Tampopo

Microcosmos

Delicatessen