Jennifer Zalewski Studio

I’ve been having a lot of fun delving back into Monotypes lately. Previously, I was experimenting only with subtractive monotypes but after getting 2 great DVDs the past year (SAFER PRINTMAKING WITH AKUA WATER-BASED INKS and PAINTERLY PRINTMAKING WITH MONOTYPES) I decided to try additives. It’s been…messy… but so fun! I find I’m able to be as expressive and energetic in this technique as I’ve wanted to be for years but couldn’t achieve in other mediums (media?).

I decided to take one of my wrinkly Jack & Caterpillar lithographs from a couple weeks ago and use it for my first additive monotype. I taped it under a piece of plexiglass and hinged a piece of paper across the top.

I first decided to paint Jack’s base coat–using the taped lithograph (underneath the plexi plate) as my guide….

That hinged paper across the top? I flipped it over the wet ink and used a marble rolling pin to press the wet ink onto the paper. I do have a couple printing presses here but unfortunately their beds were too small for my plexiglass!!

The marble rolling pin is from a local restaurant supply company and only cost about $12! It’s a wonderful, cheap alternative to a press.  A tip I learned from one of the monotype DVDs… use a low table so that you can lean all your weight onto the rolling pin, giving you a better transfer. I used a coffee table that’s been storing my CDs. Worked great!

Here it is (sorry for the poor color… it gets dark soooo early now! By the time I get home, feed and walk the dogs and get started working… it’s black outside and I have wicked poor lighting in the studio. Must fix.)…

As you can see, there’s still ink left on the plate so I put another piece of paper on the plexiglass and burnish it with the pin again. This gives me one more image, much fainter, that is called a “ghost print.” Here’s the first pull and the ghost pull side by side…

Now I just start adding more colors to the plexi plate. I suppose I could have painted all the colors at once but I felt more “in control” doing a few at a time. First order of business was Jack’s brindling. Eek. Why did I get a brindle dog again, they are so hard to draw and paint LOL!!!!! And sadly, my Akua Ink set didn’t include any browns besides ochre (which I used as Jack’s base color). I’m a HORRIBLE color mixer, so this led to some anxiety. I decided to try mixing Pthalo Green with Crimson Red, in hopes of making a dark brown of some sort to use for Jack’s stripes. It worked… kind of. It was a dark brown with a purple tint, which I guess is not a bad thing.  I wasn’t trying to make an uber-detailed piece anyway.

More painting the plate, bits at a time. I use paper towels and Q-tips to add interesting textures into the ink.

Making monotypes is MESSY. Really messy!!!! This is one of the last stages (the grass).

Here’s the final pull… the monotype with the much lighter ghost image…

The final monotype!! It just needs to be signed, and then it’s ready to roll.

The model(s)… and yes, Jack soundly defeated poor Caterpillar!!! With Lela’s assistance, the poor bug is now in tatters across the house.  It’s always kind of a bummer to, you know, spend $15 on a stuffed toy that lasts, oh…. 4 days. LOL.

Here’s my newest Oil Pastel- so new, I haven’t signed it yet, LOL.

Haven’t figured out a title yet, either. Hmmm.

Some in progress pictures…

Please excuse the Desk of Disaster!!!  Sometimes when I get in the thick of things, it gets SUPER MESSY.

Jack is awfully cute, but his dark brindle face is really hard to paint! I wrestled with it for three evenings before I got it “right”.

Then came the Big Question that I always mull over when doing a roaching Greyhound. Do I… draw in the… um… you know. Do I draw “it”??? Do I leave it out??? Not to come off as a total prude, but … well… hmm. I finally decided what I always decide in this situation… Paint “it” in, but keep it as nebulous and camouflaged as possible!

I’m pretty happy with how it came out. Of course, I’ll be even happier when I have a super snappy title for it, lol!

Jen

“Coon Dawg”

8 x 10″

Oil Pastel on Canson Art Board

I am super stoked. For the first time in probably 3 years, I’ve finished a piece of art that I’m HAPPY with.

As I mentioned a few posts ago, I’ve just been feeling so stinky about my printmaking lately that I decided to take a break and go back to my Oil Pastels for awhile.  Maybe a long while. Well, not TOO too long (already planning some linocuts in my head lol…) but I’m beyond that “‘Real’ artists don’t dabble and stick to one medium only” mentality now.

It felt good to pick up my Oil Pastels again. In fact, I treated myself and bought a box of Senneliers, the Cadillac of Oilies. I’ve always used Cray-Pas since that’s what is sold locally–they are considered middle-of-the-road. Trying to get my creative juices flowing, a few months ago ordered some Caran D’Ache and Senneliers to try…they are considered the highest quality out there… I liked both but I REALLY liked the Senns. They were so much “creamier” than my Cray Pas and the Caran D’Ache. So I splurged on a small set that made my heart flutter.

Yum, right?

A couple months ago I had tried to do a White-Line Linocut of Lela. It came out really crappy but I loved the picture and sketch–she was just ripping into a stuffed raccoon-  So I re-did it this week on a medium gray Canson Art Board.

“You’re working on a picture of me? Cool.”

I really tried to keep it ‘loose’ with this. I didn’t want to do “fur and feather” uber-detailed “I can look at the portrait of that dog and tell you who its sire and dam are, it’s so lifelike” kind of painting. I wanted my pencil sketch to come through in areas. I wanted to kind of do this Oil Pastel in a way you’d do a White-Line Woodcut, where the areas are separated by the color of the paper, accentuating subjects and shape. I wanted that color coming through to give some interest and excitement like White-Line Woodcuts possess- but maybe not do it as ‘strictly’ as a White-Line? I dunno if I’m explaining it right.

Anyway, I’m so happy with how this came out. Already working on some Greyhound Oil Pastels– stay tuned.

I’ve been neglecting my art lately. I guess it’s a natural ebb and flow, but I’m ready to get back in the saddle- even though it’s like 120 degrees out here. / And backswamp humid. Yuck-o.

I’ve wanted to work on a piece dealing with our loud feathered friends that roost in the back yard–European Starlings. They’re raucous, screechy birds that start up about 6AM every morning and continue carrying on all day until we’re ready to pull our hair out, lol. On the Annoyance Scale, they rank second only to Harold*, a crow that constantly (and I mean constantly…) “craws” at the top of his voice. For hours. Usually starting at the buttcrack of dawn on Saturday. Ugh. I love birds but Harold and the Starlings are a trying lot.

Sometimes I wonder if my dogs understand what the birds are saying to each other when they start up with that screeching and cawing. Is that how it works? Is animal language universal? Or are bird calls just background noise, gibberish, like it is to me? There are times I catch Jack and Lela peering at the trees like they’re listening in on a good piece of gossip, lol- and makes me feel, as a human being, very dim-witted. Like I just don’t seem to catch the joke. Kind of a world I’m not a part of. As I sat sketching Jack for this piece, out under the shade of the pine trees, I’d watch him alternate between napping (of course) and scanning the friendly skies.

Maybe he was looking for squirrels. Well of COURSE he looks for squirrels (and cats…) but I think he was listening in, too? Starling chatter. Neighborhood trash talk. Those birds never know when to keep things under wraps.

This will be a linocut with stencil, using some techniques I learned at my recent workshop in Massachusetts. Rummaging through my stack of blocks, I found an unused piece of battleship glued to MDF, and began sketching right away which felt great. Usually I draw on vellum first, but to lessen steps in the process I drew right on the block this time. More immediate, more rewarding. Patience- not my strong suit lol.

In order to minimize failure rates (which, sadly, are high around here… lol) I decided to do a very quick color sketch too. I usually don’t. I’m glad I did though, because I worked out a lot of mistakes that way. I’m worried about Jack’s brindling… it’s going to be a bear!! Lord have mercy!

Parked in the shade with my drawing, Jack and Lela munched on chews to whittle the time away. Yum yum yum.

A last note on Starlings and woodcuts… check out the website, blog and starling art of Jenny Pope.  I learned Reduction printmaking from her at the Ink Shop Printmaking Center in Ithaca several years ago. Her work is amazing!!

Jen

*Our loud crow ‘Harold’ is named after a neighbor of mine, growing up. He used to scream at his poor disabled wife constantly. I mean, he’d keep us kids up at nights, it was so bad. In the summers we’d have our windows open and just have to listen to it all the freaking time.  After he died a few years ago, I learned he was a child molester. C-r-e-e-p-y.  Double y-i-k-e-s. I like Harold the Crow better.

…or, something like that.

Jack and I just got back from an awesome trip to Massachusetts. One of my best friends (sadly, now living in Florida, *humpf*) made a trip up to Boston this past weekend, as her husb was attending a conference and she was tagging along, and of course being so close Jack and I had to drive out and visit her. Okay, maybe “close” isn’t exactly the right word for a 6 hour drive- or 7 -8, when you count in all the potty breaks–but suffice to say. Yeah. We threw all the camping stuff in the Scion, Rain-x’ed up the windshield- and were on our way!

I’d only been to Massachusetts once before, as a kid (except for a dog haul a few years ago, but that was just jumping over the border). I think I was maybe in fourth grade when I went on a trip to Salem with my cousin Melanie and her family. I remember crossing over the border of New York, and expecting the landscape to look TOTALLY different. We were going into another state, you know! I guess I thought the trees would be different, the grass and plants would be totally different… it wasn’t lol. Ah, being young and clueless…

Well.

We didn’t rush to Beantown right away, this past weekend. And I *did* plan ahead.  Zea Mays Printmaking Studio -which was located “kind of” on our way- had an awesome 2-day workshop on “Masks, Stencils, and other Creative Inking Techniques for Reductive Linoleum Printing.” Susan Jaworski-Stranc was the instructor.  I’ve been mulling over the idea of using stencils in my linocuts (because I suck at reduction) and Liz, who runs Zea Mays, was wonderful in letting me take only part of the class (Saturday) AND having Jack in the studio for the day.  Seemed like something I HAD to do! And I’m so glad I did.

It was a FANTASTIC workshop! And Zea Mays is really an awesome facility. I would definitely take a class there again! Jack behaved wonderfully. He did take awhile to settle and got a bit whiny around 2 o’clock, but for the most part just hung out and folks were very nice to complement him on his laid-back behavior.

After Zea Mays (and a brief walk though town, including photo op with Sojourner Truth), we began the haul to Wompatuck State Park, south of Boston, where we were camping.  It was POURING rain almost the whole drive, and I was nervous that we were going to have to sleep in the car (I refuse to set up a tent in the rain. Refuse) but thankfully the skies briefly closed up and we were able to get checked-in and set up just before dark… and the rain began again… lol.

We seemingly booked the smallest campsite at Wompatuck… possibly in the whole state of Massachusetts. I could barely wedge the tent in between the car and the fire pit.  And the whole site was surrounded by poison ivy, so you couldn’t even “spread out”. If the rain had let up at all during our trip (which really, it didn’t) I would have been afraid to start a fire because the tent had to be set up sooo close to it. I think, because it was so wet, the slugs went haywire and every morning, my tent would be crawling with them. And we leaked. The air mattress leaked, the tent leaked. Everything was flat, damp, and cold. I swear, I am NEVER buying Coleman camping products again!!!! Actually, I may never camp again lol.

Seriously though, I tried not to let the rain (or poison ivy, or slugs, or condition of our tent…) put a “damper” (har har) on things.  We did spend some time inside reading or napping during the hardest rain, but when it was misting we definitely went out. Wompatuck seemed to have a gazillion miles of trails, and Jack and I REALLY enjoyed exploring. It took me awhile to get used to navigating, though. I’m not sure if it’s just this way at Wompatuck, or all of Massachusetts state parks? But the trails AREN’T marked with trail markers. Intersections are marked with numbers, and you have to find the corresponding markers on your trail map to figure out where you are, and go from there. Kind of bizarre.

Our trip into Boston was really fun. Dogs are allowed on the subway during “off-hours”, so we drove to the Braintree station, near Wompatuck, and rode in Sunday afternoon. It was Jack’s first time on the subway and he did pretty well. The “rocking” of the train was a bit shocking for him, and he REALLY wanted to get up on the seats (I wouldn’t let him) but he took it all in stride.

Just have to say, as someone who lived in NYC for a few years and still visits regularly… OMG the Boston subway trains go so. freaking. slow. At least the two we were on? In the Big Apple, the subway trains FLY. They jerk. They scream around corners and seem barely controllable. On our two Boston subway trips, the trains drove slowly, gently eased into the stations and kept the herky-jerky to a minimum. That was nice because Jack was on board but I found myself getting a bit impatient. You remember the Seinfeld episode where Elaine is on the stalled train, and just squishing her face together trying to will it forward? That was me. Sitting on the Boston train gritting my teeth thinking GO! GO! GO!

So Jack conquered the subway. What else did Jack do? He rode an escalator (hopped on it like he owned it!), an elevator, and did one of those big glass revolving doors. He wasn’t phased by anything. I was so proud of him!

Of course, traveling with a dog means there’s stuff you just can’t do. That kind of puts the kabash on a lot of activities, but we had a great time anyway. One of the things we did was hike the “Emerald Ring” of parks through the city. We started at Boston Common, went up along the Commonwealth Avenue Mall, and down Fenway Park. It only drizzled a little bit, and was an amazing walk.

We also hiked the “Freedom Trail” –or part of it–which is a walking tour of historical Boston. This is Paul Revere’s house:

Pardon the blurry picture, but this moment was too good not to talk about. Much has been said in The Dog World regarding the intelligence –or lack thereof–of the Sighthound breeds. I don’t think Greyhounds, or Saluki, or the much maligned Afghan are ‘stupid’ dogs at all, despite some studies that came out a decade or so ago ranking breed intelligence. *I* certainly have never ‘owned’ a ‘stupid’ Greyhound. Lucy, for instance, was very cunning and used her agility training to get into trouble around the house. Clifford and Jack? Okay, they are SMART dogs but they are males, and male greyhounds can be… um… clueless. Smart, but maybe a bit too… happy-go-lucky?… for their own good.

Jack is a very smart dog. That didn’t stop him from seeing this donkey statue, touching noses with it (like it was a big dog), wagging his tail, and then sniffing the donkey’s butt. He also went up to a statue of 3 women on the Commonwealth Avenue Mall, wagging and pinning his ears back, thinking the statues were real people and hoping for a scratch. Nice try, Jack, they’re bronze. ROFLMA!!!!

The next day, we took a trip down to the south end of the state to do some gardening at the Burial Site of my friends’ extended family. We cleaned up some weeds, planted hostas. The sun actually made a brief appearance! Along the way, we drove by the old Raynam-Taunton Greyhound Park, which is now closed to live racing (Massachusetts banned greyhound racing a few years ago). But Clifford spent a few months at Raynham Taunton back in ’00 or ’01, shortly before retiring. At least I think he did… now I’m wondering if I’m mixing it up with Wonderland?? Anyway, I got teary eyed driving by, thinking of Cliffie’s Glory Days.

Trace and I stopped in Taunton to get Chinese take-out and while waiting for our food… something very interesting happened. I was PUBLICLY HECKLED. Yes, that’s right. I got heckled. Now I’ve had strangers come up to me and challenge my environmentally-liberal bumper stickers, but this was a first. Get this. So we’re at this tiny plaza at an intersection in Taunton, waiting for our Chinese food to be cooked up. A pizza delivery “boy”, in his late 30′s I’d say, is making his way up the sidewalk to go into one of the plaza stores. All of a sudden he starts pointing at me and Trace, yelling, “YANKEES SUCK! GO HOME YANKEES! YANKEES, GO HOME! YANKEES SUCK! YANKEES SUCK!”

Now… okay. I’m confused, I admit it. Trace and I are both like, WTF? Is he talking to us?? Why yes, yes he is! The pizza boy continues yelling at us, pointing and skipping around, chanting “GO HOME, YANKEES! YANKEES SUCK!” At this point, it’s dawning on me that because he sees my New York State license plate, he must assume I’m a Yankees fan–?? So I tell him, “No no, I hate the Yankees! I hate ALL sports! I’m NOT a Yankees fan.”

But he keeps heckling us!

Trace ditches me to run across the street to CVS. I’m left with The Heckler, who by now is skipping over to the traffic light at the intersection, trying to get all the drivers there riled up. He’s going car to car, pointing at me and yelling. I see people rolling down their windows and looking at me. I wonder if I’m about to get beat up? The light turns green, and the cars drive off. The Heckler keeps skipping around, laughing, pointing, and heckling. By now I’ve gotten Jack out of the car (hoping it will scare the guy off, but it doesn’t) and we start walking down the sidewalk. Heckler follows us about 20 feet back, taunting. He’s obviously having the time of his life, but I’m still struggling between “Man, this is really amusing!” and, ” I’m two strokes away from opening my mouth and letting every obscenity fly before going over there and breaking this dude’s pizza box over his mother f*cking head“.

Eventually The Heckler, still yelling “Yankees suck! Yankees go home!”, dances across the street and on his way, disappearing into the neighborhood.

Wow.

(I learned yesterday that the “Yankees suck, Yankees go home” is a chant that Red Sox fans sing at baseball games? Honest to God, I don’t understand sports fans. It’s all ridiculous. A bunch of grown men being paid exorbitant paychecks to throw a stupid ball around. Give me a break).

Anyway.

I think the most exciting trip was to Fall River for a tour of Lizzie Borden’s house. If you like unsolved mysteries (check), are into the Paranormal (check), or have a morbid side (arg, I hate to admit this but…check!) then you will LOVE this place. Our tour guide was great and gave us multiple insights into the Borden family, historical Fall River in the late 1800′s, and the vicious killings of Mr. and Mrs. Borden. It was a really fascinating tour and I bought a book about Lizzie’s Trial at the gift shop–I’m eager to read more about this.

Our ride home was uneventful, except that I ran out of cash, and found my ATM card wasn’t working. This led to a panicky “OMG how am I going to pay the Thruway tolls?!?!” anxiety-ridden half-hour, but it all worked out. As an aside, I got a “Book on Tape” for the drive which was excellent:

One of my side-fascinations is  high-altitude mountain climbing, and this book was riveting. K2 is the second highest mountain in the world, and is a much more difficult climb than Everest. The book details everything about K2, from its “discovery” to first climbs, to most recent climbs- including detailed accounts of recent disasters. I think I read somewhere that 1 of every 3 people who climb K2 dies?? Or something like that? Anyway, highly recommend this book. Might be better reading in “book” format than on CD,  because it’s soooo detailed.

We finally pulled into the driveway about 9 pm. Sadly (dum dum dum…), we ended up turning around and heading off to the Emergency Vet almost immediately when Jack scared up a black cat that was sashaying through the backyard. Sigh. The cat bolted, but Jack was too quick and got it by the neck. He thrashed it around a bit, but lost interest when it stopped struggling. It was HORRIFIC to watch. Although Jack’s, uh, “technique” definitely improved hunting this cat–compared to the last one, sigh– the cat didn’t die and was on the ground drooling and attempting to drag itself away, but could only twitch her paws. Poor thing!!!! I had to bring her to the ER to be euthanized- she was gashed along the shoulder, and her back was severed. It broke my heart that this young feral cat probably had no one to ever love her, in her poor short life, and then died so violently. Jack, of course, was incredibly proud of himself. He hunts squirrels all the time but NEVER gets them… it seems he only succeeds against cats (which makes me wonder on the intelligence of cats vs. squirrels…) but I can’t be mad at him, he was only doing what his instincts told him. Why do they keep coming over the fence????

Well the biggest Kicker of the night, Cliff had been to this ER vet before, so when the cat was euthanized they put “Clifford-Euthanize” on the receipt. WTF? Why in the world would you do that? I was already all sniffly about the cat, and that just made me lose it.

Got back from the vet at 11. Crawled meekly to bed and passed out. So ends another exciting vacation in the annals of Jen and Jackhammer….aaaaahhhhhhh…

I am excited for summer. Not for the heat or humidity (ugh)–not for unrelenting sunshine which I hate (double ugh)– not for the 9 mile race I’m running in July and have to practice for in the aforementioned heat, humidity and blinding sun (triple ugh)–but for all the art projects percolating in my head!! (and the hiking and camping too, of course, but that’s a different post).

Now that May has turned the page, I can stop fretting about storm damage and sheetrock and contractors and start working on art, right?

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

One of my presents to myself in 2010, upon moving into my new home, was a new Art Hutch. My old one was a, uh, ‘beautiful’ hand-me-down but very Swedish-modern in feel and not really my, uh, type. It was missing a couple doors and weighed about 500 pounds.  Despite living in the city, my new house is decidedly “eclectic country” lol and so I decided to invest in a new place to store my loads and loads of art materials. I bought a pine Hutch and stained it red.

Sadly, I have WAY too much stuff. And it gets crammed in. And eventually I realize I look like a slob (I’m not, really!!) and we need to ‘clean house.’

‘Cleaning’ and ‘organizing’, of course, are just code words for ‘shopping trip’. Coupons in hand, I careened off to Hobby Lobby, AC Moore, and the Joanne’s Superstore to invest in some organizing bins and trays. Nothing fancy of course, but pretty practical for the day-to-day.

Ta da!!!! All cleaned! What is the saying…

CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS, lol.

*adjusts VERY small halo around head*

I threw out a lot. All my old Daniel Smith inks, my Graphic Chemical inks… only a few years old but already gritty with gobs and gobs of dried out crap around the openings? Gone. I’m only using Akua now.

This was my favorite purchase, a handled uh, bin thingy from Hobby Lobby. It has compartments for storing all my block carving tools– my Flexcuts, my Grandpa’s chisels, my slipstrop and Arkansas stone (sharpening), etc etc. They didn’t have red so a nice muted purple sufficed.

Old phone books are super-handy for brayer and ink-knife clean-ups….

Ink knives, paintbrushes, brayers, and my marble rolling pin for those times I don’t want to use the presses. That Dick Blick baren needs to go, it’s worthless. Why did I keep it? Wooden spoon works MUCH better.

My parents found these really neat holey bricks while kayaking on Seneca Lake one time. They brought a bunch home for me–they make awesome pencil holders. I wonder what in they were used for? And why they were dumped in the lake in the first place (litterbugs!).  Well, they have been re-purposed and work beautifully.The Malamute mug was a remnant of my old life– you know how you hear about girls who’ve dreamed their whole lives about getting married?  Well I was the  girl who dreamed her whole life about having a team of Champion Alaskan Malamutes, living in Alaska and running the Iditarod (and winning, of course lol). I still have various malamute stuff around my house–books, rain jackets, figurines, etc. How the hell did I end up with Greyhounds again? ROFL.

Next comes organizing my tables and (gulp) the loft. Stay tuned…

It’s been a super-busy week. Work, vet appointments, running, doggie walks, yard-cleaning, and lots of art, art, art.  It’s keeping me out of trouble –that’s good.

My newest project is a woodcut for the Baren Forum Mythology Exchange.  I love Baren Forum- anything you could possibly want to know about relief printmaking is there! And they have an awesome Listserv. When I heard there were spots still available for the Exchange- well, I couldn’t resist, even though it wasn’t a project I had been planning on for the spring. Ah well, you have to go with the flow I guess. So- my interest piqued- I submitted my information. And I got put on the waiting list. And I waited. And waited. And then some people dropped out, and I got the official call- rounding out #29 of 30 artists! Yay!

Although my first (natural, ha) reaction was to do a woodcut based on some sort of dog mythology – Sirius, Goddess Diana and her hunting Greyhounds, one of England’s Black Dog legends- I decided to do something more personal.

Here’s the very odd, and very strange, story:

Back in June 2009, I joined my parents for a camping trip to one of our favorite areas of the Adirondack Mountains- the Northwest Lakes Region. Specifically Fish Creek Pond Campground (I HIGHLY suggest Fish Creek, or her sister Rollins Pond, campgrounds if you are ever in the area!). It was a wretched4 days of dampness, rain, drizzle, black skies- everything you DON’T want in a camping trip.  This campground is super-popular and usually packed to the gills, but was eerily empty as all the (smart) folk must have decided not to come.  However there my family was, surrounded by empty campsites- My parents in their 26′ foot long camper and myself (and Lucy and Clifford) in our Coleman tent. We tried to make the best of it. Anyway I -think- it was the second wet night we were there, I was woken up sometime in the middle of the night by the strangest sound- like someone was running back and forth behind my tent, and through the (empty) campsite next to us.  I could hear the footsteps *distinctly* through the drizzle.  It couldn’t be a person- the sites around us were empty, and it was raining. Why would someone be horsing around in the rain, in the middle of the night??  And although Black Bears do stand on two legs occasionally, they don’t *run* on them, and whoever was out there was clearly fast and bipedal. I remember straining my ears, heart beating wildly… WTF?? What WAS it? Lucy and Clifford –whose watchdog capabilities rank(ed) just above a blind & deaf cat– were sleeping RIGHT. THROUGH. IT. I remember jabbing Clifford with my foot, trying to wake him up.  The running would go. Then stop. Then change directions. Come back. Close to the tent. Far away from the tent. It was odd. I continued jabbing the dogs, and finally the two Groggsters woke up.. I fearfully slipped on my sandals… groped for the leashes… zipped back the tent flap…

And the running stopped. I couldn’t see anything in the blackness.

Lucy, Cliff and I carefully shuffled around in the dark, straining to see or hear something… but it was gone. Forever.

So when I got back home from our wet and creepy camping trip, I began researching whatever I could on Adirondack legends. Bears acting weirdly?? Hauntings?? Spaceship sightings?? Bigfoot?? Strangely enough, there wasn’t a lot. However… I did find something very interesting. The Adirondacks never had a permanent indigenous Native American population but the Haudenosaunee/ Iroquois- specifically the Oneida and Mohawk tribes-  used the mountains extensively for as hunting grounds. Legends tell of their encounters with Jo-Ge-Oh, or Little People- elvish/gnomey types that lived along the mountains and streams, usually benevolent but mischievous and apt to get into trouble (especially, it seems, while squirrel hunting). There were three clans of Jo-Ge-Oh:  Little People of the Rocks and Rivers (Ga-Hon-Ga); Little People of the Harvest and Grains (Gan-Da-Ya) and Little People of the Underneath Shadows (Oh-Dan-Was).

Was that what it was??

I don’t know if that’s what I heard that night, way up in the Adirondacks. Do they really exist? If they did, would they show themselves to a non-Native American? But if it wasn’t that… what else WAS it?

Anyway, that’s what my Mythology Woodcut is going to be about: Jo-Ge-Oh.  At first I tried to draw what I thought Jo-Ge-Oh might look like but nothing came out “right”. Then I tried some drawings of myself, Lucy and Clifford in our tent with Jo-Ge-Oh running around outside. Nope. Not feeling it. Too cartoony and silly. Finally, after scouring through my pictures from that trip, I decided to do a woodcut called Fish Creek, Land of Jo-Ge-Oh… based on this photo I took while kayaking (kayaking in the rain? Yeah. Don’t forget your FroggToggs). This totally looks like Jo-Ge-Oh territory, doesn’t it?

Or this??? Creepy, rainy, haunted camping trip! LOL.

Once I decided on what I was doing, the sketching, then carving, went easily. Of course, it’s much easier carving on your drafting table, with a Bench-Hook, than on the bed. Just a note for next time.

First color on the block was a light gray. I want to try to capture that dark, dreary, rainy, miserable camping trip WITHOUT making the woodcut too muddy looking. I’m horrible with color though, so I went light… thinking it would dry a bit darker? And maybe it would be less muff-up-able??  I had out the linseed oil to make the GC ink a bit easier to work… man, that stuff has gotten REALLY tacky on me. It’s a few years old now, whew. I think you’re technically supposed to use Burt Plate Oil, but hopefully Linseed is close enough. Seemed to help.

I’ve reached a truce with Blue Bomber (my etching press). We were at odds for awhile, but I realized that cranking the block through is MUCH EASIER if you put a block in front of your carved block, and another behind it. And then I used a piece of illustration board as my ‘blanket’.  By having so many blocks on the press, the roller has something to always ride along/sit on… so there’s no shoving the bed through, no “bump” when the block finally goes under the roller (and lemme tell you, that bump always wiggles the block a  bit, and leads to a fuzzy print). I’m very happy I was (finally) smart enough to solve the problem. Now if I can only figure out the Red Bomber, my bottlejack press! Sigh.

Ta-da! I love the Reveals! Especially when they come out the way they look “in my head.”

I’m very happy. And I feel successful- although the exchange has 30 participants, I printed 46 (48?) .  I always loose a few (or a lot) so I wanted to be *doubly sure* I would end up with 30 in the end.  They are safely drying up in the Loft, away from dog hair and muddy paws.

I’m not sure whether the second color with be dark gray, or if I should start the greens first. The way you layer colors makes a total difference. Hmmm… well, we’ll find out tonight. I have only a couple weeks to finish this up, so no time left to dilly-dally!

Jen

… and I’m not 100% in love with it. Maybe not even 50% in love with it.

I accomplished what I wanted to, in one respect… making a woodcut a BIT more painterly, without those “coloring book” lines around everything. It’s slightly- slightly- looser than I usually work. And I finished a reduction, which I haven’t been able to accomplish in almost a year, LOL.

We had our first critique evening at my Printmaking class, and the only feedback I got was that they liked the interesting shape that Lucy formed (positive vs negative space); that maybe I shouldn’t have done a border to “box” the shape in- a bit distracting-; and the professor thought my chop (signature stamp, in the lower left) was a ball, LOL.

Class has been… interesting. I enjoy the “being around other artists” atmosphere but I find that I really, really hate working away from my home studio. The class studio is AMAZING… I mean, to die for. Like 4 different presses, all the ink you could want. A silkscreen studio, papermaking studio, letterpress studio all adjoining a huge relief studio. Several Sinks, etching and solarplate rooms, a professional electric chisel sharpener the size of my microwave. But my boys aren’t there. I spend class obsessing over them, wondering what they are doing at home, if they are sleeping or crying or if Cliff has fallen and can’t get up. They are used to me going to work every day- that’s routine, and if there’s one thing about Greyhounds, they are creatures of routine. But going out at night once a week, after work, without them?? That’s strange and confusing, and it makes me feel bad when they look at me with their big, brown Bambi eyes as I try to slip out the door. You can’t sneak past them. They know.

And working at class is odd, too. There’s weirdo music playing on the stereo (not the 70′s and 80′s music “old people” like me listen to, ha), PEOPLE walking around, chatting- and I usually sit next to the same 2 gals each class, and they even talk to me while I’m working. People. Talking to me. Boring Ol’ Me. Nice, but so different than home where I ensconce myself in my hermittude,  blithely talking to my dogs, myself, the wall, LOL. It’s weird working in an environment where there isn’t any dog hair floating around to get in my ink. Where there isn’t the smell of chickeny greyhound farts permeating the air. Where I can’t sit at my drafting table and listen to the boys pace around, cast crushed looks at me and quietly cryyyy because Oh My God, We Need To Go For a Walk Right, Right, Right Now  Or Else The World Will Inevitably Come to An End!!!

Class goes from 6-10pm once a week (Lord have mercy, I’m too old to stay up that late anymore!!) but I usually sneak out by 8:30, so I can rush home, jump in my PJ’s, snuggle in bed with the boys and watch GHOST HUNTERS on the SyFy network.  The Prof doesn’t seem to mind- as long as we get our work done, he doesn’t care if it’s during class time or not. Thankfully. My best work time seems to be 6-8 pm. At home. With my wonderful, amazing and inspiring muses… Cliffie and Jack.

I feel my focus changing a bit. When I started class, I was gung-ho to work on Reduction Woodcuts, maybe even try some White-Line/Provincetown woodcuts. But I feel myself being drawn back in the Monotype direction. We’ll see how it goes. I have so many ideas but the woodcut process takes so long. Monotypes are more spontaneous, fun- different. They might be my golden ticket to creative liberation. They just might be.

Jen

It’s late Sunday afternoon. The dogs have been walked, Jack and I did a 4-mile run at the Parkway, visited friend B. and saw her new foster grey.  Cliff’s chicken dinner is baking in the oven. After a Saturday fete with the stomach bug (ugh)… Sunday has shaped up quite nicely.

It was really dreary and gray today, but boy oh boy… 38 degrees! A heat wave. I shoveled the slush out of the driveway in a long-sleeve T-shirt. And … I saw a mosquito!!!!! A mosquito!!!!!! Yes, the Long Winter may be on its last leg.

I’m finishing up my Lucy woodcut… pics to come. Working on a new block. And in the middle of an “linoleum etching” experiment… hmmm. I happened to see a very short 2 pages about it in my “Printmaking Bible” and-well-I’m giving it a go.

Jack is quite happy with himself. Yesterday morning, my stomach all a-churning from the Bug… I let the dogs out in the backyard for the morning Potty. A squirrel was out in the snowdrifts, but I didn’t think much of it… they always get away.

Not this one.

Jack mauled it pretty badly. I could barely tear my eyes away, it happened so fast. The squirrel was on the snow-shoveled path. Jack blasted towards it. Cliff happily gimped after him, oblivious to what was going on. The squirrel saw the dogs, hesitated, then took a desperate flying leap into the deep snow. Jack launched into him like a torpedo, snatching him by the back (tail?) and somersaulting him back onto the path. Jack snarling and flipping him around. Squirrel squealing, twisting, trying to get away. Cliff standing next to the fight, seemingly not noticing what was going on right in front of his eyes. In fact, at one point Jack threw the squirrel down and it tried to drag itself between Cliff’s legs, and he didn’t notice (Cliff, WTH? Is it dementia? How could he not realize what was going on?).

And then, like that… Jack was done. He had his kicks and giggles, and the fun is over. Time to pee. He trots off along the path, making his way back to the back fence. Cliff happily follows. The squirrel lays in the snow, flopping around and squeaking pitifully.

I watch it drag itself a few inches, then stop. A few inches, then stop.

Jack comes back, happily bounding up the path. The squirrel frantically pulls itself to the base of a tree, stretches itself up and tries to claw up. It can’t. Jack snuffles him, bored, comes back to the deck and asks to come in.

He has a nip on his nose. It won’t stop bleeding. Ugh.

I watch the squirrel for a bit, flopping now and then, trying to reach up the tree. My mind writhes around all the options. Do I let it suffer and die? Do I kill it? HOW do I kill it? Do I bring Jack back out there and try to sic’ him back on it, to take it out of its misery? Would Cliff help??

I get my shovel, the metal one. Go to the squirrel. Cliff hangs out with me, but doesn’t notice it at all. It lays up against the tree, it’s tail torn off, two legs look dislocated. It’s jaw is all bloody and red. The poor thing makes a mewly-noise and scratches at the bark, trying to climb to safety.

I pick it up on the shovel, lay it on the hard iced path, and put it out of its misery.

I spend the rest of the day in bed, throwing up.

Not a great day for a vegetarian animal-rights advocate, that’s for sure. But I can’t be mad at Jack- he’s a dog. He was doing what dogs do.

This isn’t the worst Squirrel story. Back in- oh, it must have been 2003- before I bought my first house. I had Lucy and newly-adopted Cliff, and was bringing them around the block back in my old ‘hood, on their morning walkie. We were bundled up, slogging down the sidewalk, when we came upon a dead squirrel on the greenway (that strip of land between the sidewalk and road). It looked newly-dead and wet, like a cat had gotten it overnight. We had lots of outdoor cats in the neighborhood so I wasn’t surprised. Lucy was VERY interested so I let her sniff it. Well all of a sudden, the dead squirrel pulled a Lazarus and jumped up alive again, totally freaked that this long black nose was in its face. I still have that picture of Lucy glued in my head… that WTF! look of shock and pure delight. Before anyone knew what was happening, Lucy had grabbed Lazarus by the nape of the neck and was flipping him up in the air, somersaulting him like a beach ball. I think she caught him and flipped him up again before I yelled and dragged them back. So the squirrel landed with a thud on the sidewalk, freaked out, and sprinted into the street–right in front of a pickup truck. His head went under the tire and flattened on the pavement but the body kept trying to run. Those poor legs just ran in place for a few seconds, next to the flat head, until the brain sparks ended and it just crumpled.

All three of us kind of stood there, in total shock. It was just … so… WTF. I mean… dude. Dude.

There are other squirrel stories, but I’m starting to feel queasy recalling them so maybe another time.

Or maybe not, lol.

…also known as the “OMG I think I totally goofed this up I’m going to vomit all over myself” stage…