An Artist of Influence: Alejandra Almuelle

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Alejandra Almuelle

You likely have favorite artists who have influenced your work over the years, or perhaps their work differs from yours in significant ways but you are drawn to it nevertheless. Alejandra Almuelle is one of those for me in both respects.

I met Alejandra at least 15 years ago at the annual Texas Clay Festival in Gruene and bought this little bowl from her. It has a design of a flying fish – so simple, small, and elegant.

We talked for quite a while and there was a compelling quality to her work that stayed with me. I visited her website recently and was just transported with the sculptures she has created over the last decade.

Alejandra Almuelle: From Her Website

Alejandra Almuelle was born in Arequipa, Peru. She spent few years in Pizac in the Sacred Valley of Cuzco, a center for ceramic making. Peru is a country in which the abundance of clay has made this medium a language of artistic expression. Clay is its own idiom, and being there, she began to speak it. After she moved to Austin, she started working with clay. Addressing the functionality of the medium as well as its
sculptural expression has been equally important for her. She has participated in art fairs, galleries and museums with both pottery and sculpture.’

Alejandra Almuelle

Alejandra is a brilliant, incredibly prolific clay sculptor and has exhibited in numerous galleries – read this comment from the review of her show called “Silent Narrative of Things” at Dimension Gallery in Austin in 2017:

“…Because what Almuelle has done is turned Dimension Gallery into what we can’t help but perceive as a sacred space. Not some typical “sacred space” festooned with the gimcrackery of more common religions, though. Rather, a hidden alcove redolent of ancient pagan mysteries, of deep Jungian undercurrents, with sculptures of the artist’s interpretation of the Three Fates all texturally complex against the entrance wall; with a series of hollow and pristinely white figures atop a field of salt on a far table; with sculpted hands set among piled patterns of spice – cinnamon, turmeric, pepper, and more – on a closer surface; with a diverse array of rough porcelain needles literally stitching yarn-as-bloodlines into the very concrete of the gallery’s cemented verticals.”

Wow.

Here is a series of pieces from that exhibit, and you can see all of her work here on her website.

Alejandra Almuelle

About the seven works above, she says, “When I began this series, I was affected by the significance and probable implications of the political situation. Many questions started to come as the work emerged. Questions created more questions in my attempt to answer them. “Seven”, which is the first of the series expresses that state of mind. . .Each of these human-shaped figures are pierced, revealing the interior space through orifices and openings as manifesting the permeable nature of the self. A self that is not solid, fixed or contained.”

Alejandra Almuelle

Her depth and dedication to her craft and her art are awe-inspiring.

Alejandra Almuelle

Recently, I acquired another one of Alejandra’s artworks from a series that she calls “Ayas.” Here it is sitting on the desk at my kitchen door where I see it every morning:

This is how she describes the Ayas: “Aya is not only a personal reference but a tribute as well to Pre-Columbian Mayan ceramic dolls. In Japanese, “aya” means colorful and beautiful. In Arabic, it means miracle, sign, and verse. In Hebrew, it refers to flight or birds, and in Turkish, “aya” means a source of abundance and creativity. There is also an African Adinkra symbol called “aya” represented by a fern which symbolizes endurance and resourcefulness.”

I hope you enjoy being inspired by Alejandra’s work as much as I do. She will be at the 2024 Texas Clay Festival in Gruene – I always look forward to that event!

When we discover artists whose breathtaking work makes us shiver with exhilaration, it’s worth sharing.

Thanks for reading!

Alejandra Almuelle

 

Hiraeth: The Face at the Edge of a Dream

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In the Welsh language, there is a word that comes close to conveying the idea of the last traces of a dream fading away: “hiraeth.“ (“Hiraeth” is pronounced as HEERaiyth in English phonetics.)

“Hiraeth” is often described as a deep longing or yearning, particularly for something that is lost or unattainable, which can be linked to the fading remnants of a dream. There is no word in English that exactly corresponds with this.

Detail, Encaustic collage, 2015

I was so glad to find this word because it helps me understand the deep infatuation I have always had with human faces (as evidenced by how often they manifest themselves in my artwork).  Human faces, ancient or contemporary, fascinate me as summaries of life stories in the moment.

And, odd as it seems, I am always searching for a particular expression that will resonate with a hidden meaning, something that conveys a deep sense of humanity to me personally.

It’s almost as if I once knew this face and this expression, but it continues to elude me – there is a feeling much like “hireath” that keeps me searching through old photographs, portraits in museums, and creating synthographic images for myself to define that elusive face.

There are probably all kinds of reasons for my “facequest,” but right now I’m enjoying exploring the ephemeral faces of young women in a new series of encaustic collages that will be in a solo show in November.

I search for and create a lot of images, historic, personal, and synthographic, to find one that seems right. Here’s one in progress:

 

Here’s another one – I’m creating a series of twelve of these “hireathic” encaustic collages.

All of these collages take advantage of the veil-like quality of beeswax that drew me to the encaustic process in the first place – the ephemeral quality of a wax-veiled image works to convey a fading dream or a not-quite-real-memory.

I’m working with wax, stencils, and foil to produce a reflective texture layer on these collages that adds to the dream-like illusion. Here’s a detail:

Experimenting with techniques is just one side of the creative coin – the other is the search for content, and part of my search has often been a quest for evocative human faces.

Hiraeth, with its deep sense of longing for something lost or unattainable, beautifully captures the emotion behind searching for a likeness of a human face that seems to carry a timeless connection. The face, whether in an old photograph, a synthographic image, or an ancient portrait, becomes a portal to another place, evoking a bittersweet connection that resonates with unfulfilled desires and the haunting feeling of something familiar yet distant, almost within reach but forever elusive.

Thanks for reading! And remember, you feel a sense of hiraeth, it means your heart is deeply connected to something mysterious and beautiful, reminding you that your memories and experiences are treasures that have shaped who you are today.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quicksilver: verse and vision

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collage

Quicksilver: Terlingua Cemetery, Lyn Belisle

What an extraordinary experience to have a poet look at your work and tell its hidden story back to you with empathy and intuition! Maggie Fitch – friend, potter, poet – just gave me that great honor. You’ll love the poem .. read on.

Here’s how it happened.

One of my artworks is being exhibited in the current GAGA show at the San Antonio Art League + Museum. It is titled Quicksilver: Terlingua Cemetry. I created this fiber art collage (above) as a response to a recent visit to the cemetery in Terlingua just outside Big Bend. The work is comprised of transferred photos on fabric, stitching, fabric scraps, and found objects on stretched canvas. It is 36″ long.

Collage back story: The Chisos Mining Company, was established in 1903 at Terlingua, and during the next three decades became one of the nation’s leading producers of quicksilver (mercury from cinnabar ore). The Terlingua cemetery, iconic and eerie, is a reminder of the miners who died there from mercury poisoning. The average time spent in the mine before mercury poisoning began affecting them was less than 5 years. The men who got sick were happy to have a job for pennies a day, all the while unaware of the horrific nature of their own impending death.

So, Maggie was attending a poetry workshop group at the Art League last week, and their focus was to write an ekphrastic poem, which is an intense poetic description of a  a work of art, and to chose a piece from the exhibition Through the imaginative act of narrating and reflecting on the “action” of the artwork, the poet may amplify and expand its meaning.

Maggie chose to study my piece and looked at it so carefully that she discovered a story that amazed me. These were the first two lines of her poem:

“See here
printed in plain sight a plot of prickly crosses . . .”

She contemplated the details she saw – torn newspaper clippings sewn to tattered fabric, old images of a miner, transferred onto cloth, a frayed portrait of a native child, rusty items and found objects . . .

She saw more than just the history of the place – she felt what it must have been like to be there, perhaps on an August day exactly 100 years ago . . .

She tells us through her poem what to look for, what we can see if we look past the individual scraps and shards to the whole concept of place in time . . .

Read Maggie’s entire poem, below, read it slowly, and I think you will feel how visual art and poetic verse are powerful companions.

Ekphrastic poem by Maggie Fitch
based on a fiber collage by Lyn Belisle:
Quicksilver: Terlingua Cemetery

See here

printed in plain sight a plot of prickly crosses
seen here three ways differently still all the same
remarking the folly of passers-by intending
to go somewhere better
away from a screaming orange sky
then befuddled in twilight’s turquoise caresses
charring intentions into crusty black embers
blown over the graves of those
passing through to somewhere else

See here

stitched little purses of tattered intentions
that should have been quicksilver but not quick enough
passing through with his donkey in the desert that day
the miner gave the young girl a shawl
kindly wrapping her shoulders up warmly that night
she gave him a colorful brand-new bandana
around his neck in the desert that day
passing through with his donkey
enchanted instead by a mouth full of tumbleweed

See here

are the artifacts of tattered intentions
stitched little purses made from what is left
of the shawl and bandana and maybe a donkey’s tooth
shadows of the young girl
and the miner who stayed
enthralled by the spectrum
in Terlingua they stayed
embedded in Quicksilver

See?

This poem gives me shivers – it’s as if Maggie was there in Terlingua that day, watching, seeing it all unfold. It’s beautiful and haunting. I am transported by lines like:

“…away from a screaming orange sky
then befuddled in twilight’s turquoise caresses
charring intentions into crusty black embers
blown over the graves of those
passing through to somewhere else . . .”

Below is a photo of Maggie’s original poem next to the collage she created in the Visual Verses group which is facilitated by poet and artist Marcia Roberts. This group meets once a month at the San Antonio Art League. (If you are interested in learning more about this group, please email Marcia.)

As I said at the start of this post, I told you that Maggie is also and artist who tells stories in clay. Here is an example of Maggie’s own work:

If I were a poet, I would love to look at these two pieces and write an ekphrastic poem about who they are and what their story is. Perhaps the fellow on the right was a miner passing through Terlingua searching for his long-lost daughter?? . . . . .maybe??? See???

Thank you, Maggie, for a wonderful poem. I learned so much. ♥

Altared Statements

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Altars as an art form embody profound spiritual and visual significance. They serve as sacred spaces where personal beliefs, cultural heritage, and artistic expression converge. Through intricate designs and meaningful symbolism, altars invite reflection, honor traditions, and create a powerful connection between the physical and the divine.

Example of an empty altar structure from Celebration Circle

Opening soon, on August 23rd, the San Antonio Art League is hosting Celebration Circle’s annual celebration of creativity in the exhibition known as “One People, Many Paths: Sacred Art of Altars.” Each year, emerging and established local artists are invited to share their own sparks of divine creativity by participating in the exhibition where 60+ duplicate boxes–each with identical dimensions–are created and distributed. Then, at the end of the closing reception, each altar receives a new home.

​I’ve participated in this Altar exhibition for many, many years – this is its 20th anniversary!

Here is my Altar for this year’s Celebration Circle fundraiser – it’s titled, “The Gift.”

There is a backstory, a myth about markmaking – see what you thihk:

The Gift: An Altar to Tsukuyomi’s Gurdian

Lyn Belisle, 2024

In ancient Japan, young Yumiko ventured deep into the forest one twilight and encountered a mystical Noh spirit with antlers, known as Tsukuyomi’s Guardian. The spirit’s presence was ethereal, its antlers adorned with intricate carvings that glowed with a celestial light. “I have chosen you,” the spirit whispered, “to receive the ancient art of creation.”

The spirit led Yumiko to an ancient ebony tree, its charred wood still warm from a celestial fire. “From this tree, we will create ink,” the spirit said. Together, they ground the burnt wood into a fine, black powder, mixing it with water to form glistening ink. Next, the spirit guided her to a grove of bamboo. “These stalks will become brushes,” it explained. They split the bamboo, shaping the fibers into bristles bound by slender threads.

Then, they journeyed to a field where the spirit showed Yumiko how to transform plant fibers into delicate, resilient paper. Soaking, pulping, and pressing the fibers, they created sheets as white as snow. With her sacred tools in hand, Yumiko knelt before the spirit. “Now, make your mark upon the world,” it urged.

Yumiko began to draw, creating symbols representing objects and emotions. Her first marks were of profound gratitude to the spirit. As dawn approached, the Noh spirit faded, whispering, “Share this gift, for in teaching others, you honor the spirit of creation.”

Yumiko returned to her village, her soul alight with the spirit’s wisdom. She taught her people the sacred arts, ensuring that the legacy of Tsukuyomi’s Guardian lived on, interwoven with the fabric of their daily lives, as eternal as the antlered spirit itself.

Previous Years

Most of my previous Altars for Celebration Circle have had backstories – here is last year’s altar about Xochiquetzal, the goddess of beauty and love in Mexican mythology, also holds the role of protector and patroness of birds.

This one, from the Altar Show two years ago, is called A Prayer for Rain:

As I look back on these, I see similar elements in all of them. For a time, I was working on a series of small altars, and may go back to that soon. It’s a wonderful way to choose, build, and meditate with your hands.

There is a lot of information out there in Cyberspace and in the library about making your own altar for your own purpose I like what Wemoon says about altars.

But if you REALLY want to get inspired, come to the Art League to see The Sacred Art of Altars!

  • The opening Meet the Artists Preview Party is Friday, August 23 from 5:30 – 7:30 pm.
  • The closing reception is Saturday, September 14 from  5:30 – 7:30 pm.

And if you want to be dazzled by the many concepts and creative ideas that artists have come up with for this show in the past, take this link and click on photos from the previous years of this wonderful exhibition.

 

 

What does your vessel hold?

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Jennifer Dixon, Vessel Workshop

I spent this past weekend in the Art Studio at UTSA/Southwest teaching a workshop called The Ephemeral Vessel: Exploring Plaster, Fiber, and Paper. As usual, I learned as much as a taught.

We began the first day by discussing the vessel as a concept. A vessel holds deep symbolic and spiritual significance, representing both containment and potential. The outside of a vessel symbolizes the physical form, protection, and boundaries, encapsulating the external aspects of life and the tangible world. It is the visible, crafted exterior that interacts with the environment, often reflecting cultural artistry and craftsmanship.

Jalen uses a soldering iron to pierce the “skin” of his vessel in progress

The inside of a vessel, however, carries profound spiritual connotations. It
represents the inner self, the soul, and the essence of being. This inner space holds potential and mystery, symbolizing the capacity to contain and nurture life, emotions, and spiritual energy. It is a metaphor for the unseen depths within every individual, the potential for growth, transformation, and the holding of sacred or significant contents.

The inside of Janis’s vessel shows little scraps and shards of memories of the process

Together, the inside and outside of a vessel illustrate the dual nature of existence: the balance between the external, material world and the internal, spiritual realm. This duality underscores the importance of harmony between our outer actions and inner values, encouraging a holistic approach to understanding life and spirituality.

And when we weren’t pondering the existentialist nature of the forms we were creating, we were also have fun! There was a moment of silence in the studio when each person got ready to pop their plaster-covered balloon. There were many oohs and ahhs when an unexpected material turned into magic on the surface of a bowl.

Almost dry enough to pop!

Taking simple materials and transforming them into meaningful creative statements has always been kind of a miraculous process. Every one of the vessels created in this workshop held a narrative. I am in awe of the vessel-makers and their stories.

Click here to see a catalog that I put together of some of the amazing work that was done this weekend.

As a final note, Everyday Sacred by Sue Bender is another one of those books that I can return too whenever I need centering. The begging bowl in this book is such a powerful image. The begging Zen monk receives the food people can spare in his bowl with gratitude. It’s an ongoing practice to accept what happens in life – and my bowl is so full of gratitude for this workshop experience!

Clay Soup and Alan Watts

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Riddle: You have 60 small clay faces drying in the sun, almost ready to be fired. What do they turn into after an expected thunderstorm?

Answer: Clay Soup!

If only I had loaded the kiln before we left for the afternoon! But noooooo – the sky was clear, so who would have thought that a gully-washer was coming?

Seeing all of those dissolved clay faces when I got home made me feel sad, but also a bit philosophical. After all, they were still clay. Only their shapes had changed. They were returned back to their primordial soup!

This experience got me thinking about Alan Watts, whose writings have been a huge influence and comfort to me all of my adult life.

Alan Watts often spoke about the nature of life and death in terms that demystify and de-dramatize the transition. The concept that when you die, you go back to being what you were before you were born, is a profound reflection on the nature of existence. From clay to clay? From soup to soup?

He encourages us to view life as a temporary journey through a realm of awareness, much like a bird’s fleeting passage through a lighted house. By understanding and accepting the cyclical nature of life and death, we can alleviate the fear of death and appreciate the transient beauty of our existence. (Alan Watts Organization)​.

If you haven’t read Alan Watts before, I encourage you to start with THE BOOK
On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are. If you’re interested in The Book, there’s a PDF version available here.

This is all kind kind of a heavy-duty metaphor about something simple as melted clay, right? But there are lessons in everything. Living an artful life means looking at things through a different lens.

And the other HUGE bonus from this experience was the rain! Because I live in South Texas, I will willingly trade a couple of hours work for some welcome rain! I can make more clay faces but I sure can’t make it rain!

Thanks for reading – back to the clay studio 🙂

Lyn

 

 

 

 

Shards and Stories – Lessons from Greece (continued)

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Taken at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens

Examining shards of pottery in Greece, especially in historical museums, is a fascinating and often deeply meaningful experience. These fragments, bearing partial symbols and images, are remnants of ancient lives and cultures, offering glimpses into the past. Each shard is a piece of a larger narrative, a fragment of a story that once was whole.

Taken at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens

The symbols and images on these shards might depict scenes from daily life, mythological tales, or intricate patterns that were significant to the culture that produced them. Even in their broken state, these fragments can tell us a great deal about the artistic styles, technological advancements, and social practices of ancient Greece.

One of the most compelling aspects of these shards is their ability to be reassembled with other pieces, even those from different pots. This process is akin to piecing together a complex jigsaw puzzle where the final image represents a broader cultural or historical narrative. When these shards are put together, they often reveal a more comprehensive picture, connecting disparate elements to form a richer, more detailed story.

Humans have always told stories with symbols and pictures and objects.Even a small scrap of of pottery gives a rich clue that inspires us to infer more of the story.

My personal artwork has  been strongly influenced by the idea of “shards” as a metaphor for human communication across time. A shard can be a found fragment of clay, a rusty nail, a scrap of handwriting – any little clue that becomes a “secret handshake” between the maker and the discoverer.

Lyn Belisle, Encanto Assemblage, 2011

Have you ever wondered whether fragments of the artwork that you create today might one day be discovered and displayed in a museum, offering clues to the creative expressions of the 21st century? Imagine a future archeologist unearthing remnants of our contemporary art, much like how we now marvel at the fragments of ancient Greek artifacts. Each piece, though incomplete, tells a story of its time, revealing insights into the culture, technology, and aesthetics that defined an era.

In ancient Greece, even the smallest fragment of a vase, statue, or fresco can speak volumes. These pieces provide invaluable glimpses into the past, allowing us to reconstruct the visual and cultural landscape of a civilization long gone. The intricate designs on a pottery shard or the delicate chiseling on a broken statue reflect the artistic prowess and thematic concerns of their creators.

Reconstructed Lion, National Archaeological Museum

Similarly, future generations might uncover fragments of our current artworks—perhaps a piece of a digital print, a shard of a ceramic sculpture, or a remnant of a mixed-media installation. These fragments would serve as tangible connections to our present, helping future historians and art enthusiasts understand the themes, materials, and techniques that shape our creative output.

Lyn Belisle, Shard Components

As artists, the possibility that our work could one day be part of an archeological discovery adds a layer of legacy to our practice. It encourages us to think about the durability and impact of our creations. What messages are we embedding in our work? How do our materials and methods reflect the values and technologies of our time? In contemplating these questions, we become part of a continuum, linking our contemporary expressions to the vast tapestry of human artistic endeavor.

Lyn Belisle, Icon, 2020

So, next time you create, consider the enduring journey your art might undertake. Perhaps, centuries from now, a fragment of your work will be unearthed, sparking curiosity and admiration in a future museum, much like the ancient Greek artifacts do for us today. Through these fragments, our stories will continue to be told, and our creative legacy will persist, connecting us to future generations in a timeless dialogue.

Birds on columns, Heraklion Archaeological Museum

Learning from the past enriches our understanding and inspires us to create meaningful, lasting art for future generations to cherish. Or maybe just to wonder about . . . .

End of lesson from Greece !!

Lyn

 

 

 

The Clarity of White

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I returned from Greece this past weekend filled with awe and wonder and new perspectives. Here’s the first one.

One of the many revelations that came to me while I was there was the strange and beautiful properties of the color white. Of course, if you remember your science lessons, white is not really a single color but a mixture of every color on the light spectrum.

In Greece, white dazzles everywhere – in the architecture, on the clothing of the men, women, and children. The bright white color reflects the intense sunlight, helping to keep buildings (and people) cooler during the hot summer months. The uniform white aesthetic has become a cultural and architectural tradition.

Intuition would suggest that if everything is white, then nothing stands out. But actually, white provides a clarity of detail that would be lost in a mass of various colors through the emphasis on form and value. Look at this rock wall in Mykonos – each white-washed stone is clearly outlined by form and shadow.

In this photo of Santorini, each building is clearly defined by its shape and its non-white accents such as the windows. If every building were a different color, this clarity would not be so evident.

And here is a Greek chapel. Does this white abstract form remind you of Georgia O’Keeffe? It does me 🙂

Sculptor Louise Nevelson used this principal to clarify her signature work because she wanted to emphasize and give power to the forms.

This morning, I was thinking about all of this while working in my studio on some base forms for the Vessel workshop I’ll be teaching at UTSA/SW School in July. The forms start out as pure white and are intended to be expanded and embellished. Here are a few that I made today, stacked up together:

Here they are individually – I experimented with various base materials:

Plaster gauze over balloon armature

Cotton rag and plaster

Mulberry paper and cheesecloth

Layered cheesecloth with acrylic medium

There is a huge temptation to leave them just as they are – variations in white that show the texture. But of course they are just bases that are intended to be added to.

On a whim, I took a couple of scrap assemblage pieces that hadn’t been working and painted them white, like the rocks in the Greek stone wall – I liked the result. The white clarifies the design and gives me some new directions.

I’m obviously not going to take a can of white spray paint and cover everything dimensional that I’m working on because of what I saw in Greece, but this new appreciation for white as a clarifier and unifier rather than just a blank element or space-holding color is inspiring. White. Simple. Limitless.

End of Greek Lesson One – next lesson, shards and faces!!

Thanks for reading!

~~Lyn, Intrepid Greek Island Explorer

 

 

 

 

Intermission Time

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First, thanks so much for all your input on the Art League logo design! I took all of your comments and presented them to the entire Board and membership at our meeting last Sunday as part of a slide show, which I added to your input page – you can see that here. You have been hugely helpful!!

Now I am in one of those “intermission” phases. I have lot of work to do but there are no critical deadlines until next month. One of the things I like to do during Intermission time is to look back on past instructional videos and see where they might be expanded or reinvented.

The one I’m sharing today is one of the good ones that works just as it is. It’s the introduction from my eBook called Wax and Words and includes a sample short lesson on composition that is useful for anyone.

Rest assured, this is not an ad for the eBook – it really is just a rediscovery of a useful lesson on competition. Almost anyone can use the principles, not just encaustic artists, and it’s good for me to remind myself of those principles. They are my guidebook when I get lost.

Perhaps this will give you some ideas for weekend play! I hope you have a good one – thanks for reading!