Category Archives: Mixed Media

The Gift of Celestial Navigation

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In my last post, I talked about a new sculptural form I’m working on to take to Ireland for our Vessels workshop there this summer. I called it the Five Knot Vessel and it’s part of a larger idea encompassing Spirit Vessels/Sacred Ships. I’ve been filming a new workshop about that for the last couple of weeks.

Lots of other artists have helped show me the way, but  I’ve still been sort of inventing it as I go along. Strangely, I  haven’t really felt lost lost, and it occurred to me that I should thank my father for this. Here’s why –

During World War II, my father was a navigator, flying out of Horham Airbase in England,  charting courses through the night skies using instruments like the sextant and the ever-reliable chronometer. With only the stars and a drift meter, he found his way for his pilot and the crew through uncertainty by using celestial navigation.

His maps and almanacs were filled with numbers and angles, but to me, they always felt like something more—a kind of sacred geometry, a quiet trust in star patterns.

He pointed out to my brothers and me the constellations in the dark sky (I can still find Orion) and showed us how to find the North Star no matter where we were (the two outermost stars in the bowl of the Big Dipper point to it). Even though we moved around so much as children in a military family, he didn’t want us to ever feel lost.

I realize now that my own artistic journey draws deeply from that same navigational spirit. In my vessels and assemblages, I piece together fragments—shards, relics, whispered clues—to find direction, to create meaning. Like him, I chart a course, even when the path ahead isn’t visible.

My compass may be intuitive rather than mechanical, but the need to find my way, no matter where I am, echoes through every layer I build.

Each vessel I create feels like a map in three dimensions, a kind of spiritual charting made visible through form and texture. The assemblages are constellations of memory and mystery—bits of paper, found objects, old photos, words half-remembered or imagined—all pointing toward something just beyond the known.

This is important: I don’t always understand what I’m building at first, but as the pieces come together, a path emerges. It’s a quiet navigation, a way of honoring the instinct to move forward with purpose, guided by trust in the process. Just as my father trusted the stars, I trust the fragments, the gestures, the invisible pull that tells me, “you’re on course.”

My art is my “sky”—it holds the coordinates of where I’ve been and points to where I might go next.

In remembering my father’s tools of navigation, I’ve come to recognize my own, even though I’m not even halfway through this experimental vessel workshop journey. Where he had precise instruments and star charts, I have intuition, layers, and luminous surfaces that speak in symbols.

But the impulse is the same: to locate oneself in the vastness, to chart meaning from mystery. Each piece of art I make is a kind of message to the universe, a quiet assertion that I am here, I am looking, I am finding my way.

You, too, have your own navigational tools—anchored in a childhood memory, a beloved mentor’s words, or a moment that gave you courage and direction. Whatever they are, trust them. They are your inner compass, guiding you across the uncharted waters of your own creative life.

Perhaps that’s the greatest legacy of all—not the destination, but the courage to navigate by what light we have, and to keep creating our path, one small guiding star at a time. Thanks, Dad.

And thanks for reading!

 

Influencers

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We often hear the word influencer tossed around in today’s social media-driven world—usually referring to someone who promotes products, trends, or lifestyles to a broad audience.

Social media influencers thrive on visibility and quick engagement, building their followings through brand deals, viral trends, and aspirational lifestyles. Their goal is often transactional—to monetize their reach through partnerships and sponsorships. Living on platforms like Instagram and TikTok, they shape pop culture and consumer habits by promoting what’s popular, hoping followers will imitate their tastes. Their influence is driven by relatability and attention metrics—likes, followers, and views—rather than lasting artistic depth.

In contrast, an artist who influences others does so not through trends, but through the power of their vision, authenticity, and mastery. Their goal isn’t to build an audience for visibility, but to explore and express something true—and in doing so, they spark insight and courage in fellow artists. Rather than shaping consumer tastes, they shape creative thought. Their legacy is built on originality, integrity, and emotional resonance. And while they may never “go viral”, their work becomes a lasting part of the artistic dialogue—an invitation for others to reach further and create more honestly.

This idea of meaningful artistic influence has been deeply personal for me lately, especially through my recent exploration of vessels—both as tangible art objects and as metaphors for containment, offering, and transformation.

That exploration was sparked in no small part by the work of my friend and fellow artist, Shannon Weber. Her raw, intuitive fiber vessels—organic, mysterious, deeply rooted in place—stopped me in my tracks the first time I saw them.

Shannon never sets out to “teach” with her work, but her authenticity and fearless craftsmanship opened something in me. Her pieces whispered permission: You can build from instinct. You can honor materials. You can make containers for spirit, not just function.

That influence didn’t make me want to copy her—it made me want to listen more closely to my own hands, my own materials. It shaped how I approach my own vessels, especially in workshops.

When I teach, I’m not just showing students how to construct a form—I’m inviting them to fill it with meaning. The energy flows forward. I see students begin to trust their own stories and discover that their vessels hold more than objects—they hold essence. And then, they influence others in turn, through their courage and creativity.

Want to see what can be accomplished? Here is a link to a catalog of work from students in the recent Ephemeral Vessels workshop at UTSA/SW. We started the journey together, but they began to follow their own path as we worked together over the two days.

And of course, I carry the strong influence of other artists in this ongoing exploration – Joanna Powell Colbert, whose earth-grounded, sea-and-seasons centered spirituality helps me define my purpose in creating these forms. The insights I gain from her work flow into the vessels I create, filling them with meaning and intention.

And my dear friend Michelle Belto introduced me to the transformative qualities of wax years ago. It now adds a protective layer to my vessels while enhancing their surface with depth and luminous beauty. There are so many metaphors of influence in that process that dovetail into my work.

Here is a new form I’m working with to take to Ireland for our Vessels workshop there this summer. I call it the Five Knot Vessel. It’s small and simple, easy to pack and carry home, but has lots of possibilities. In spirit, it carries the presence of those who’ve guided me—Shannon, Joanna, Michelle, and so many others whose influence travels with me like quiet companions, woven into each layer and knot.

This is the living, breathing cycle of artistic influence: one artist lights a path, another follows and forges their own, and the light spreads. Not through algorithms or brand partnerships, but through the shared language of making. It’s quiet, powerful, and lasting.

Lyn, grateful for every creative influencer in my life ♥

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!!

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.

 

 

The Pilgrim’s Scroll: Stories in Paper and Cloth

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Color me happy !! My new online course, The Pilgrim’s Scroll, is open for enrollment! You saw the results of the recent in-person workshop in this post, and now you can join the workshop online with extra lesson and materials and unlimited time to play.

It’s been a dream of mine to explore the fusion of paper and fiber in a way that is both simple and profound. Paper is a fiber, of course. Combining paper and fiber into a scroll is akin to weaving together threads of history, culture, and creativity into a tapestry of artistic expression. The marriage of these materials allows for a unique fusion of textures, colors, and forms, culminating in a fine artwork that transcends traditional boundaries.

This new course, The Pilgrim’s Scroll: Stories in Paper and Cloth, is designed to help you choose what matters most to you and to express that in simple terms. Techniques include several kinds of image transfer , methods of surface design on textiles (think wabi-sabi), creating beads, talismans, and birds from paper clay and fiber, and assembling these with thread, wire, ribbon, and adhesives.

Here’s is the Introductory video which will tell you more about the workshop than just writing about it can:

As always, I try to keep my courses affordable, and this course is just $49 right now for instant access, downloadable videos, free images, and almost five hours of video instruction, including, as usual, the non-perfect parts (which always make us feel better somehow).

Find Out More

I hope you will join me in this course. Even though these workshops are self-paced, I’m always here to answer questions. The Pilgrim’s Scroll represents a journey, as you will see in the lessons, and we will arrive at a place of discovery and self-awareness together!

May our feet always be light on the path!

🙂 Lyn

 

 

 

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!

“Gold—what can it not do, and undo?” – William Shakespeare

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Need a little glitz in your art practice?

I’ve been experimenting with Gold Sumi Ink since the first of this year and still have a lot to learn about its properties and how to use it in my own work.

I’ve used the more common Black Sumi Ink for decades – it’s a delightful medium.

But the Gold Sumi Ink is a curious creature.

It’s apparently made of a binder with gold particles suspended in it, and it is both water soluble and also water resistant once it has dried.The description from the  purchase link is not much help, although I like the fact that is has “Chinese herbal medicine and precious ingredients” in it.

Gold Sumi Ink

  • Golden calligraphy ink is made from all-natural ingredients. Its high quality and concentration ensure a smooth dense texture.
  • While golden liquid ink is made specifically for traditional Chinese and Japanese brush calligraphy and painting it can still be used for any art form. The ink’s bright luster results in a deep earthy tone when used on Xuan paper.
  • Made with all-natural materials, including a variety of Chinese herbal medicine ingredients and precious minerals.

When you brush it on paper, it has an amazing metallic quality. It can be thinned with water to make a glaze.

You can dip a stick into the bottle and make cool marks.

Gold Sumi Ink behaves differently on different surfaces. On an encaustic waxed panel, it sits on the top like India ink but when it’s fused, you can’t rub it off.

On of my best discoveries recently was using this gold ink on bare wood panels and on the sides of those panels. It creates a lovely “gold leaf” finish and bonds well with the raw wood.

You can mix it with Black Sumi Ink and get a very dark bronze color.

But if the Gold Ink dries, the Black Ink just sits on top and won’t dissolve into the bottom layer. That must be the Gum Arabic in the binder?

There are several brands available. They cost between $15-$20 a bottle and a bottle last a very long time. I’ve used two different brands and they both seem identical in pigmentation and viscosity. My current brand is CA Society Gold Calligraphy Ink and I did get it through Amazon, but it’s made by a small Chinese Calligraphy art business called CA Society.

I gave some of the gold ink to my friend Barbara who is going to play with it, and if you decide to get some, let me know what you discover. Even if I just used it to paint the sides of my wood cradle board, I’d still like the stuff . . .maybe not as much as I like Walnut Ink, but it’s a most interesting addition to your studio materials.

By the way, if you want to learn more about the relaxing practice of Sumi-e Painting, sign up for my FREE workshop, right here.

Lyn