Category Archives: art

Fragments, Forms and Layers: Part Three

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Part 3: Layered Images — The Original Language in My Practice

A three-part series on Fragments, Vessels & Layers
(Part Three: Layered Images)

Series Introduction

Recently, the artist and teacher Crystal Marie Neubauer invited me to talk with her online group about my work. It was an honor — Crystal’s influence on my creative life goes back years — but it also presented a surprising challenge. How do you describe an art practice that moves through so many materials and forms? Encaustic, collage, fiber, clay, found objects… I’ve never been a one-medium artist, and trying to explain everything at once felt impossible.

Then I realized that my work isn’t united by medium at all. It’s united by object and intention — by the three forms that keep reappearing no matter what I’m making.
And when I stepped back, those paths became clear:

  • Santos & Shards — guardians, icons, and the stories held in fragments

  • Vessels — boats, bowls, pods, and the metaphor of holding

  • Layered Images — collage, wax, and the  revelations inside translucence

These three paths intertwine across everything I do. And this series grows out of that realization — an invitation to look closely at where my work comes from and how meaning travels across forms.

Today’s final post in this series returns to the oldest language in my practice: layered collage.

Layered Images — The Core and Heart of My Work

Before my Santos emerged, before I began building boats and pods and sheltering forms, I was working in layers — paper, pigment, image, and – more recently – wax. Collage was my first real artistic home on the flat surface, and it remains the place I return to whenever I need to rediscover what I’m trying to say.

If Shards & Santos are about what we mend, and Vessels are about what we hold, then Layered Images are about what we choose to reveal — and what we allow to remain veiled. I’ve always worked in collage and for the last 15 year I’ve concentrated on encaustic layering thanks to my dear friend Michelle Belto who introduced me to the medium.

Why does Wax play so well with collage? Because It behaves Like Memory

Encaustic wax feels like the perfect collaborator because it mirrors the way memory works:

  • luminous in some places

  • fogged or obscured in others

  • layered with traces of earlier thoughts

  • holding what came before, even as new layers are added

Wax isn’t just a sealant or surface — it’s a way of thinking. It slows everything down. It requires heat, patience, and attention. It asks: Are you sure you want this visible? Are you sure you want that hidden?

I don’t use much colored wax at all – I’m not an “encaustic painter,” rather an artist who uses encaustic techniques to tell mixed-media stories. The pale translucency of beeswax is my go-to collage medium of choice.

A Layered Image Is a Conversation

When I work in collage and wax, I’m not composing an image; I’m listening to it. Layer by layer, the piece begins to speak –a scrap of ledger paper peeks through, a synthographic figure emerges or dissolves, an accidental texture becomes the thing the piece needed all along. Even removal becomes part of the conversation. Scraping back a surface to reveal earlier marks often leads me to meanings I didn’t anticipate. Encaustic is not a linear process. It loops. It reveals. It forgets and remembers.
Just like we do.

A Return to Old / A Portal to New

What I love most is that this old, familiar collage path has become a bridge to my newest work with synthographic imagery. The dream-logic of AI images blends beautifully with the ancient, tactile behavior of wax. One creates possibility; the other brings it to earth. If you’ve taken my recent Painting with Fire Lesson, Synthography and Wax, you understand.

The two together create a layered world where fantasy becomes grounded, realism becomes dreamlike, and the viewer is invited inside the luminous in-between

It feels like a collaboration across centuries — digital imagination meeting an art form older than painting itself. These aren’t just surfaces — they are strata.

Inviting You Into the Layers

Even if you don’t work in collage or encaustic, layering is a language almost every artist speaks. It’s about building meaning slowly, letting some things rest beneath the surface, allowing others to shine through.

Layers give us permission to be complex. To hold contradictions. To let time become part of the piece. As an example, here is a new (almost done but not yet – the edges are still taped) series that goes with my Encanto assemblages and will be in the Taos Exhibit in 2026.

I’m creating four layered encaustic collages, 20″x20″, each representing a child saint or Santo Niño. Technically, some are probably female Santas, but gender is not an issue here. Fusion is, fusion of layers and culture.

These Santo Niños inhabit the liminal space where Indigenous cosmologies and European Catholic iconography meet, overlap, and transform one another. The white-painted faces echo ritual marking found across Native traditions, signaling spiritual passage, ancestral presence, and worlds in transition. Their frames and gold-leaf halos recall Spanish devotional art, yet the children themselves do not belong fully to that lineage.

They are hybrid beings—part saint, part spirit-guardian—born of a cultural collision that reshaped the sacred landscape of the Southwest. 

I’ve layered mulberry paper printed with carpet designs and birds than might be found in a European drawing room with white painted synthographic faces of anonymous children to create contradictions and layers of metaphor and storytelling. Here they are so far – they may end up with one more layer of meaning but I’m just not sure:

Santo Niño of the Antlers and the Hidden Path

Santo Niño of the Sacred Heart Seed

Santo Niño of the Two Doves

Santo Niño of the Watching Birds

There is more color in these layered pieces (surprise!), but the printed color is pushed back by the veiling layers of wax, almost as if time-faded. I’m having an amazing time fitting the images to the layers of history and meaning in the whole concept of Encantos and objects of hope and devotion in a world where such things need to be extracted again from our deep sense of humanity.

Whew! That was  lot to talk about!

Here are a few prompts to bring into your own studio:

  • What early layer in your work deserves to resurface?

  • What do you want to soften — not erase — with a new layer?

  • How might your materials become translucent instead of opaque?

  • Is there an image in your practice that wants to hide and reveal itself at the same time?

Closing the Trilogy

With this third post — fragments, vessels, layers — the series comes full circle. Each path has shaped my work in different ways, but together they form a single through-line:

We create meaning from what we mend, what we hold, and what we choose to reveal.

Thank you for walking with me through all three.

That’s Life!

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Michelle Belto and I are ready to begin the fall term with our Enso Circle Continuing Residents, the group that is sort of like “alumni” from our online artists’ residency program which will reopen next spring.

I am so grateful to that group because they’re often the inspiration for my Enso Oracle cards. Their questions and the information we all share within the group are things that every artist copes with or celebrates in one way or another as we try to fit in our work with our life. That can be a huge job, right?

EEEK! It’s the Death Card! Yikes!

Nobody likes to pull the Death card in a tarot spread—it sounds ominous, even though it often means transformation or release. But what about creating quieter, more complex twin, the Life card?

Life is more unpredictable, more unruly, than death. Death is final; life interrupts. Life barges in uninvited, derails studio practice, pulls us away from the easel or the loom or the kiln. Life collides with intention—family calls, health falters, bills pile up, or maybe you win the lottery?? It not always bad, but it always disrupts.

When I created the Life card for the Enso Oracle, I wanted something as profound as the tarot’s Death card, but with less fear and more practical application to the artist’s journey. Life doesn’t end things in the same way death does—it reshapes them, tests them, and insists on being part of the process.

For an artist, drawing the Life card is a reminder that we live in a field of interruptions and detours. Yet within those interruptions lies the raw material of art itself: the texture of real experience, the unpredictable weather of being human.

What the Life Card Means

When the Life card comes up, it doesn’t say, “Stop creating.” It says, “Look at what is unfolding.” Life often looks like a distraction, but in truth it is the source of the deepest work. The missed studio hours, the detour from your schedule, the unplanned season of caregiving or crisis—all of these shape the inner landscape that eventually makes its way into your art.

In this sense, the Life card is not an obstacle but a grounding force. It tells us that art is not made apart from life; it is made because of it.

An Example: Interrupted Practice

I know an artist (a painter) who had to abandon a large canvas midway because her father grew ill. The painting sat untouched for months while she traveled back and forth between hospital visits and home. At first, she resented the interruption. But when she returned to the studio, she realized the canvas had been quietly waiting. The work resumed, but it carried something new—an undercurrent of tenderness and vulnerability she could not have painted before that season of life unfolded.

The interruption had not ruined the work. It had deepened it.

Another example is my own. Several years ago, I was facing a rushed deadline for an exhibit (I’m a procrastinator by nature), when a sudden family emergency took us out of town for a week. Thankfully, all turned out well with the family, but I came back to the studio in what I thought was real trouble. What surprised me, though, was how the forced pause gave me time to think more clearly. Away from the pressure of materials and mess, I imagined new approaches, and in that space I discovered a collage technique that not only saved the project but has become a mainstay of my practice ever since.

Drawing the Life Card as an Artist

So what does it mean when you draw the Life card?

  • It may be telling you to forgive yourself for missed studio days.

  • It may be reminding you that your creative path is not separate from the messy, glorious whole of existence.

  • It may be inviting you to weave the day’s interruptions—joyful or painful—into the story your art is telling.

Because Life, for all its unpredictability, is the well from which we draw.

______________________________________________________________

LIFE

Keywords: interruption, arrival, change, reality, presence

Interpretation (Upright):
Life comes to the door without warning. You may have had plans, momentum, even clarity—but now, something is shifting. This card reminds you that your creative path exists within the greater rhythm of life, not apart from it. Whether it’s a new opportunity, a deep loss, or a sudden turn, Life is asking you to pause and open the door. It may feel inconvenient or even frightening, but this is part of being fully human. Honor the moment, even if it interrupts your art. One day, it may become your art.

Interpretation (Reversed):
You may be resisting change or holding tightly to plans that no longer fit. When Life knocks, we don’t always feel ready—but pretending not to hear the knock doesn’t stop it. Reversed, this card suggests a reluctance to surrender control, even when the path forward is already unfolding. Can you make room for the unknown without losing your center?

Reflection Questions:

  • When has life redirected your creative path—and what grew from it?
  • What might happen if you welcomed interruption as part of the journey?

Affirmation:
I open the door, even when I don’t know what comes next.

_____________________________

A Closing Reflection

The next time Life shows up, whether in a card spread or in the form of an unexpected event, pause before you push it away. Ask: What is this teaching me? How can I hold this moment as part of my practice, not against it?

The Life card reminds us that without life—its surprises, its detours, its demands—there is no art. It’s the reminder that to be alive is already to be creating. Yay for Life!

 

The Muñeco: A Small Figure That Holds So Much

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While researching a new series of altar-based assemblages for the Taos exhibit that will be inspired by the ritual codex of Sr. Alfonso García Téllez, I rediscovered a word I hadn’t thought about in years: muñeco. (“moo-NYEH-koh”)

You may not have heard this term before in this context. In Spanish, muñeco means “little doll” or “figure,” but in the sacred art of Alfonso Téllez—an Otomí shaman from San Pablito, Mexico—a muñeco is something much more than a toy. It is a spirit vessel, a symbolic stand-in used in healing rituals, offerings, and prayers.

Cut from handmade amate bark paper in simple, symmetrical forms, these figures carry what is too heavy, too complex, or too mysterious to name directly.

That idea stopped me in my tracks — a symbol? An archetype? A vessel for complex emotions?

In Téllez’s codices, a cut paper bird figure, for instance, might represent loss, freedom, rebirth, or all of those at once. The figure is a kind of visual shorthand—a handmade icon that expresses the inexpressible.

These are not just decorative elements; they are tools of ceremony and emotion, used in acts of release, remembrance, and reverence.

And that’s when I realized — we could all use a muñeco.

What if you cut a shape from paper—just a silhouette—and let it hold something for you? A grief. A prayer. A question. A transition.

You could glue it into a collage, tuck it into a pocket, burn it, bury it, or simply keep it near. Not to solve the feeling. But to give it form. To acknowledge it. To begin to let it move.

This idea became the seed for a new oracle card in my Enso deck—The Muñeco. It reminds us that the most powerful symbols don’t have to be complex or literal. They just have to be true.

Sometimes, the smallest figure holds the most.

The Muñeco

Keywords: Spirit Vessel · Proxy · Release · Ancestral Simplicity

Interpretation:

The Muñeco is a doll-like figure cut from bark or paper—simple, symmetrical, and quiet. But don’t mistake its humility for weakness. It is a sacred stand-in, a vessel for what you cannot carry, what you cannot say. In ritual, the muñeco holds illness, sorrow, memory, or prayer. In your life, it may be asking: What weight are you ready to release? What part of you longs to be witnessed and let go?

This card honors the ancient truth that the most powerful symbols are not always grand—they are small, handmade, passed down, and alive with meaning. The Muñeco reminds you that fragility and faith can live in the same shape. Cut your prayer from paper. Name your burden. Then offer it forward, and let it be carried.

Reversed:

Reversed, The Muñeco suggests confusion between what is yours and what you’ve placed onto others—or what others have placed on you. Are you unconsciously projecting, assigning roles, or expecting others to carry what is yours to hold? Or are you refusing to let something go, keeping it folded tightly within yourself? The spirit figure has become tangled. This card invites you to separate, to clarify, and to release with compassion.

Reflection Questions:

  • What object or act could serve as a release today?
  • Have I mistaken simplicity for lack of meaning—or overlooked the quiet things that hold the most?
  • Who or what have I turned into a proxy for my own unspoken needs?

Closing Insight:

The Muñeco holds space for what cannot speak. In letting it carry your burden, you remember that even the smallest gesture can be an act of ceremony.

(Above) Autograph manuscript concerning Otomí indigenous curandero customs and folk medicine in Mexico. The text describes shamanic rituals for various maladies (enfermedades) with mounted cut-out paper figures (mun̋ecos)representing spirit entities drawn from both indigenous and Christian mythos. Illustrated with amate bark paper cut-outs, dated approximately 1978

_____________________________________________

A Small Practice

If this idea speaks to you, try this:

Sit quietly with a small square of folded paper. You don’t need a plan—just rest your hands, take a breath, and begin to cut. Let your thoughts wander toward something you’d like to let go of… or something you wish to remember.

When you’re ready, unfold the paper.

See what’s there. A figure, a shape, a whisper of a form.

You’ve made your own muñeco.

Now pause. Ask yourself: What do I want to do with this little symbol?

Will you keep it tucked into a journal? Burn it in ceremony? Bury it, give it away, or place it on your studio worktable or tape it in your window?

Deciding what to do with the cut shape is part of the ritual.

It’s a way of giving form to something too vast for words—and choosing how to honor it or say goodbye to it.

And speaking of saying goodbye, I’m headed to Ireland this week to teach a workshop at the Mulranny Arts Centre—an inspiring place where dreams and landscapes overlap. I’ll be offline for a little while, but I’ll return soon with stories, images, and new ideas to share.

In the meantime, why not cut a paper shape, a muñeco —not to finish something, but to begin. Let it be a placeholder for your thoughts, your plans, your hopes. Let it hold what you’re not ready to name just yet.

Be safe.
Do good work.
And let the small things carry meaning!

Thanks, as always, for reading SHARDS.

♥Lyn

my muñeco for the journey – it holds so much and lets go of so much

Butterfly carrots and pumpkin shepherds

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Words are becoming increasingly important in my recent work, both as design components and as inspirations. I’m honestly not sure why, maybe it’s because I’ve been rediscovering some of my beloved Abstract Expressionist heroes  when I was an undergraduate art student — Larry Rivers and Robert Rauschenberg. Those guys were amazing.

Parts of the Face: French Vocabulary Lesson 1961 Larry Rivers 1923-2002

Robert Rauschenberg, Metropolitan Museum of Art is an offset Lithograph poster made in 1970.

Sometimes the words I’m finding are strange and somewhat obscure, like “hiraeth,” the Welsh word that inspired this series, which is now complete and will be shown at my solo exhibit next Saturday. I’ll post those soon.

Sometimes the words are both inspiration and visual elements. I’ve just completed five “story banners” which will also be shown in the exhibit. These were partially inspired by two of three random words from a vintage child’s stamp set that was a gift from my friend Jean. I talked about those delightful word stamps in an earlier post, and am still discovering ways to use them.

Look at these words that are available in the old stamp set – limited but evocative. Picking any two or three can can conjure stories that blend nostalgia and weirdness and wonder. Try it! Butterfly carrots?? Pumpkin shepherd??

For a narrative artist like me, this is gold! And when these words are combined with synthographic and vintage images in fiber and mixed media, the results are really intriguing.

Here are the five banners. Each one is about 14×24″ with layers of fabric and images and old milagro charms.

Lyn Belisle, Mother Nest, 2024

Lyn Belisle, Seven Horse, 2024

Lyn Belisle, She Know, 2024

Lyn Belisle, We Were Sisters, 2024

Lyn Belisle, Little Tiger, 2024

During this process, I continue to learn that “shards” can be more than just pieces of stuff for assemblage – they can be scraps of fabric and synchronistic words that appear from unusual places. And these “shards”—whether bits of fabric, stray words, or found objects—are fragments of meaning waiting to be woven into something whole.

By embracing them, we give ourselves permission to see beyond the ordinary, to let coincidence and curiosity guide us. In this way, each piece or word becomes part of a larger narrative, inviting us to craft stories that feel both ancient and freshly our own, across any medium we choose. And then it’s up to the viewer to join us in figuring out these stories in a way that speaks to them. What fun!

Thanks for reading!!

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.

 

 

Fiber Art Reconsidered

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At least half a dozen friends have sent me the eye-opening article from the New York Times called “ A Tangled Web“ and its premise that Fiber Art is finally, again, being reconsidered as a true art form.Julia Halperin, the author, writes, “. . . . in an age when we spend much of our time touching the flat surfaces of screens, this tactile art form feels newly seductive to makers and viewers alike as both a contrast with and a culmination of modern sensory experience.”

I hope you will read the article and discover the same reverence that I did for artists like Sheila Hicks and Lenore Tawney, innovators in fiber art.

For a look a an eclectic survey of contemporary fiber art closer to home (for San Antonians), visit TEXtiles: A Celebration of Texas Fiber Art, the annual juried Fiber Artists of San Antonio Art Exhibition will be held September 10 through October 20, 2023, at the Kelso Art Center, University of Incarnate Word, San Antonio, TX.

Kim Paxon, Name Your Fear, 1st Place, FASA TEXtiles exhibit

 

The theme of the exhibition showcases the innovation and diversity of Texas artists who create and communicate with fiber. Through art quilts, framed fiber art, sculptural pieces, vessels/basketry, paper art forms, art-to-wear garments or accessories, art dolls, woven textiles, mixed media work, jewelry and adornment, and conceptual work that defies categorization, Texas fiber artists are bringing textiles and fibers of every definition into new contexts and exploring social and conceptual implications of their usage.

My piece called Ghost Factory, won the Third Place award, which surprised me because I don’t consider myself in same category of fiber excellence as many of the others in the show, but I worked the fiber like a collage, which is my natural approach to almost any medium. This piece is based on photos taken by Lewis Hine in the 1920’s of child laborers in the textile industry.

You can see a video of the works in the exhibit by visiting the FASA Website.

If you have not used fiber and fabric as a collage medium, it may surprise you! Just collect fabric and ribbon scraps and tear, cur, and arrange them as you might with paper. If you use a glue stick, you can iron over your finished piece to fuse the whole thing together (put some parchment paper over the top first). then add stitching!!

My new workshop called The Composed Collage: Sisters shows and example of that technique, but you don’t need to get the workshop to give it a try.

Have fun with it – fiber is good for you!

Ephemera/Ephemeral

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I am thrilled to have had three works accepted for this exhibition — Ephemeral/Ephemera: A special exhibition of small encaustic and cold wax works on paper at Mulranny Arts in Mulranny, Ireland. October 10- November 15, 2023

Mulranny is where I taught this summer and it is such a special place. This is how the Call for Entries described the theme:

Ephemerality is a state that is deeply integral to the human experience. Moments, objects, and beings; all exist for a brief time and then disappear or transition to another state. We consider that which is ephemeral to be particularly fleeting, and a poignancy resides there. Closely related, ephemera are the bits and pieces of our lives (typically paper items) that were not intended to be preserved yet become the memorabilia that we keep to memorialize those meaningful but passing moments.

This is my first piece (above) and its description:

“This small work comes from a lifelong ephemeral dream of seeing my mother walking ahead of me in the fog when we lived in London when I was a child trying to catch up with her. I’m not sure where this dream came from because my mother was kind and caring and would never have walked away from me, but the dream persists.”

More about the Ephemeral Exhibition: Ephemeral/Ephemera will showcase works on paper that illuminate the concept of the ephemeral from an artist’s perspective, using wax as a primary medium. We invite national and international artists to consider how we experience ephemerality. Dreams, memories, chance encounters, nature, time, seasons, and even the nature of wax and paper itself are potential areas of exploration. What do we wish to hold on to, and what do we wish to let go of?

Here is my second piece, called “Wednesday’s Child” which is based on the photographs that Lewis Hine took of child labors in the US in the 1920’s. His photos ultimately changed the laws about allowing young children to work in fields and factories. I have been fascinated with these images for over a decade and return to them again and again.

More about Ephemeral Art: It is a transient form of artistic expression that exists briefly, often changing or disappearing over time. It encompasses various mediums, including street art, sand sculptures, and performance art. Ephemeral artists embrace impermanence, challenging traditional notions of art’s durability, and provoking viewers to appreciate the beauty and significance of the fleeting moment.

This third piece is called “Caged Memories,” and it expresses how difficult it is to hold onto the ephemeral beauty of lost moments, even if we try to bind them to our hearts.

All of this has me thinking about the whole idea of ephemeral impermanence and its influence on me and so many other artists. It is a first cousin to the idea of Wabi Sabi, which as you know is the Japanese aesthetic emphasizing beauty in imperfection, transience, and simplicity, finding elegance in natural flaws and the passage of time.

I suspect as we get older we both identify with and grapple with the idea of impermanence. Seeing the beauty in it is one way to come to terms and be a peace with it, to “find elegance in the passage of time.”

Here’s a good quote related to the complex idea of ephemerality and impermanence:

“If we don’t insist on defining impermanence as unsatisfactory, then it’s natural to celebrate. Just a moment’s pause to consider the passing of the seasons is enough to convince anyone that not only is impermanence the source of all possible joy in this life but it’s the movement of life itself.” ― Lin Jensen, Bad Dog!: A Memoir of Love, Beauty, and Redemption in Dark Places

It’s is a good topic for this Monday – a day of loss and memories. And this week will be gone before we know it! Quick, make some ephemeral art – it won’t last forever but it will shine in its moment!

Thanks, as always, for reading SHARDS.

Thanks, Jude Hill

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With so many artists teaching online these days (including me) and so many techniques to learn, it’s inevitable that a student’s work is influenced by an instructor’s.

That’s kinds of the point – if you admire someone’s work, you want to know how it’s done. But the rest of the story is about what happens when you know how it’s done and what you do with the information.

In the last newsletter from the GAGA group of women artists, this question was posed:

I have spent the last two years working hard on my painting style so that I can become as recognized as other artist of note in this community. I have paid a lot of money to teachers for classes and workshops, incorporating their techniques to help me improve and sell my art. Now that I am getting ready to enter a national juried exhibition (with substantial prize money), this pops up in the Prospectus: “Works that have been completed under instruction or in direct association with a class or workshop are not eligible.”  So why have I spent so much of my money on these classes and workshops if I can’t use the art techniques from my teachers? 

See what you think about the answer:

Most worthwhile juried shows include this phrase to protect both professional artists who teach and students who so admire the work of the instructor that they do their best to copy an instructor’s style and end up looking rather foolish and unoriginal. Good exhibition guidelines discourage direct copying of another artist’s style, which can be like trying to find a lazy shortcut to success without all the work it took the original artist to get organically to that point. It can also be illegal – an artist has the right to prohibit others from making truly derivative works.

Technique is only one part of the equation of being an artist. And a lot of work done under instruction has both the professor’s hand as well as intellectual creative “solve” in it! So, student work is not artist work. It’s a stepping-stone to one’s finally developed voice!! You can and should learn technique, but after that it is your creative vision, internal dialogue, life experience and expression that cannot be duplicated. It is up to everyone to find this for themselves. Technique is not art, lessons are training wheels, copying is not creating, paintings are not recipes and sales are not always the goal.

If you do not yet recognize this and are upset by this very common phrase in a Call for Entries, perhaps you should spend a bit more time on your journey of development. When you learn how to experiment and play in your own way with what you learn, you will develop your own voice. Quit imitating and honor the techniques you learn from your teachers by translating them into your own language. Being slavishly derivative does not become any of us and does not earn us recognition in exhibitions.

“Influence” and “emulation” and “incorporation” are all words we use that describe our use of the signature techniques that other artists share with us. “Copying” has a different connotation altogether.

And you certainly don’t have to be a teacher to experience the realization that another artist is “heavily influenced” by your work. It’s a complicated subject.

Jude Hill is a beloved fiber artist whose blog and practice are followed by thousands of people. She is sensitive, low-key, and very authentic. She addresses this complicated issue in a video – it’s really brilliant. It’s so relaxing to watch her stitch and listen to her soothing voice.

Video Link

So what do you think? It’s certainly not a black-and-white situation, and there is, as I always say, “more than one right answer.”

To help give you some perspective, read Inspiration vs. Imitation by Christine Nishiyama, illustrator, author, and artist. You’ll enjoy it.

Lyn

Art and Climate

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For the last five years, The Encaustic Art Institute, based in Santa Fe, has been hosting a juried national exhibition called Global Warming is Real.

Here is this year’s overview. Artists were invited to interpret the theme in their encaustic work.:

THEME: Global Warming is REAL. As nations and economies shut down due to the COVID-19 pandemic, pollution levels and human patterns change in ways that were detectable by satellites. As all types of social, economic, industrial and urban activity suddenly shut off, nature took advantage and showed improvement in the quality of air, rivers, less noise pollution, and undisturbed and calm wildlife. COVID-19 may have temporarily lessened our carbon footprint, giving us a view in to what our individual affect on Global Warming constitutes. At the same time, Climate Change is becoming more visible and tangible through increased fires, glacier melting, and warming oceans.

I found out this morning that my entry, below, was accepted. Yay! This encaustic/mixed media work called River of No Return.

Lyn Belisle, River of No Return 2021

This was my accompanying statement:

This work, called River of No Return, suggests extreme negative impacts – droughts, floods,  famine – on populations whose vulnerability to Global Warming put them at extreme risk. The looming climate change is catastrophic for third-world countries that rely more directly on rivers, rain, and oceans for their agriculture and survival. The colors of ash, bone and rust in the work serve as metaphors for the decline and corrosion that will affect every lifeform on our planet,not just people in industrialized countries.

I am really curious to see how the theme will be interpreted by the others in the exhibition, which opens virtually on July 10.

In the meantime, here’s a link to a thoughtful, sometimes disturbing, online exhibition called Resilience in the Age of Climate Change.

https://artsandculture.google.com/exhibit/resilience-in-the-age-of-climate-change

In this exhibit by Art Works for Change, thirteen visionary artists and architects consider the consequences of climate change, including excess heat, drought, flooding, extreme weather events, food insecurity, displacement, and the loss of biodiversity. Through their work, we can visualize the challenges of a warming planet, and discover opportunities to overcome them through innovation and resilience.

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We’ll have plenty of time to ponder resilience during the days of heat and drought – hope all of you are well and finding time to create safe space for yourselves.

Serenity through bamboo – for you?

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My latest online class for everyone is called, “Sumi-e Painting: Serenity and Simplicity.” It’s absolutely free, and it’s designed to de-stress your mind and to celebrate the coming of spring – yay!

In this class, you’ll learn to paint a variation of the ancient Asian art form called Sumi-e in a simple way that anyone can do. It’s fun and relaxing, even if your bamboo leaves end up looking like bananas. 🙂

Here’s the class link.

The class opened on Monday, and right now there are 90 people signed up, painting graceful bamboo stalks and wild orchid grass. I’m getting lots of favorable responses!

There is a joy in providing a no-cost chance to be creative that money can’t begin to buy – honest!

One of my favorite responses came from a participant who wrote:

“My friend was asking me about some painting tutorials and where to get started.  I told her about (your) lotus book tutorial and how much fun it was. Your free painting video arrived today in my email has been a great way to show her what you are doing.

We had great progress and successfully completed the tutorial this afternoon.”

bamboo

“The first photo shows (my friend’s) work from start to finish and you can see the progression after we practiced and how quickly we got some good results with your excellent instruction.” – – – (Wow, thanks!!)

I told her how much I loved their work – and how nice (especially these days) to get to paint together with a friend.

She wrote back:

“I did two little cards on some scrap watercolor paper. We were using the same watercolor paper as you demonstrated with.  I even found a little stamp that we dipped in red watercolor for chop mark.

I actually had a stone chop made when I was in Taiwan in 1978 but I really couldn’t put my hands on it this afternoon. It has my name in Chinese carved into it with an ox figure on top. I am year of the ox!

Before we went I had pored over a book my Dad had brought back from his travels of Chinese watercolor painting . I was fortunate enough to get the watercolors and brushes ( the brushes  we used today) and paint and paper while I was in Taiwan. . . Funny how things come full circle!”

(Special thanks to Marti Bledsoe for sharing this painting adventure.)

So, try this project if you haven’t – you don’t’ need any fancy materials – just some inexpensive watercolors and some paper. And maybe some nice wind chime music in the background. You, too, can bamboo!

If you like this technique, I also have a new in-depth workshop called Sunsets and Serapes which, strangely enough,uses this Sumi-e technique to make Southwestern striped paintings for mixed media artists!

Serape Mother and Child

This particular painting workshop is not free (a mere $39) but it has four hours of videos on painting with strong East/West influences. Here’s that link.

Finally, here’s a challenge/idea – how about making Lotus Books (another free workshop) and doing the covers with Sumi-e paintings? That would be beautiful!!

Wishing you a serene and stress-free day! ~~~ Lyn