Make Art this Summer with an Accountability Coach

Are you frustrated with not getting to the studio? Do you need help and a plan to make some art over this summer? Are you stuck? Are you currently in a hard place and need some light? Are you confused and trying to find a creative style? Do you have ideas but lack the discipline to show up for them?

Well- perhaps it is time to Show up for the Muse with me via Zoom!!! • Show up each week for 6 weeks • All Media artists are welcome! • Once a week Zoom to check in on your progress • Email support at any time • Exhibition at end of session at ArtsMidHudson

We can do this together! I have been teaching art to all age groups for the last 26 years and have learned that making art is possible for everyone if they just show up. The challenges in life cost all of us time and space, but I am living proof that an art practice can lift you, like a life raft, through turbulent times and it can enrich your participation in the good times. Just a few years ago my marriage was crumbling. I was sitting at the bedsides of two dear dying friends and my father-in-law was degenerating into Dementia. On top of it, my children were leaving home as adults. The feeling of loss and lack was almost unbearable. By a miracle, and through a daily gratitude list, I was able to see my way to the studio. Not expecting to be able to do much, I focused on one thing, the color orange! I painted with that color until the tube emptied. Have you ever looked at an apple (the same apple) for 30 days and tried to see it differently? It is a classic art lesson that forces you to go beyond the physicality of the subject. Certain parameters on your art can actually push you to see through to a liberating perspective. I learned so much about seeing the world when I tried to paint the greens of summer in Pyrole orange! Ever since, I have been showing up every day to paint my way to health and happiness. I have seen firsthand how a daily art practice can transform a life.

Some of each series can be seen on my website: www.tillystudio.com. Now I am passionate about helping others find their way through the challenging times, and even the best of times, by showing up for the Muse. Doing anything for 40 days, and there is historic proof that it will change you!

The details! Go from feeling cloudy to clarity As your accountability coach, I will inspire discipline to the creation of at least 6, and possibly up to 40, works of art! Sign up through www.ArtMidHudson.org , under summer workshops $100.00 per person AMH Members and $115.00 per person non-members This is a virtual class. Our weekly zoom sessions will be on Tuesdays, June 15, 22, 29, July 6, 13, 20; 7pm-8pm You will be guided each week through goal setting, series synthesis, time management, handling challenges, chronicling insights, and of course-celebrating successes! The class participants will be your new support group and I will be available for email support as well. We have a group exhibit opportunity at the MidHudson Arts Gallery in Poughkeepsie!! Expect bonus PDF resources and downloads as well as links to other artists and stories of working in a series. Are you ready to show up? Working in a series has many benefits. It is a tool to process an event, emotion, and even relationships. If you do anything for 40 days it will change your life! Sign up at www.artsmidhudson.org Questions: tillystudio@aol.com Let’s show up together!

Virus Anniversary Ponderings on a Plague Saint

 

Marking the anniversary of yearlong pandemic-induced closures and nationwide isolation, I am drawn to St Sebastian as a perfect devotional image. Depicted tied to a column, tree or stake, he is riddled with arrows and gazing, with a beatific smile, up to the heavens.

Back during Bubonic plagues of 17^th century Europe, Christians embraced the saint as an intercessor for their prayers. Sebastian, who lived in Rome, became a martyr who submitted to torture and was left for dead twice. He seemed to defy odds, surviving arrow wounds and beatings. For that reason, he could serve as a lightening rod to relieve and protect others from the plague.  

 

There are other saints to pray to for help in times of plagues, such as the Virgin Mary and St Roch, but St Sebastian seems to be the perfect one for me.

His ideal physique, riddled with arrows has come to symbolize the toleration of multiple zoom meetings and multiplying obituary pages, while the archers, who run away on the receding road, are the business commitments and goals of a “get-me-ahead-at-any-cost” lifestyle. The calendar is the rubble of antiquity around us. I strive for the verticality, and the connection to God.

 

St Sebastian By Botticelli

, Tempera on panel, 1474 (Berlin)

In the 14^th century the “Black Death” killed 30 million people in Europe alone, and an estimated 75 to 200 million across Eurasia. Some people blamed God and turned to focus less on the afterlife and more on a humanist philosophy of earthly delights. Many blamed marginal groups such as the Jews, and instituted brutal and devastating pogroms. The movement of the Flagellants reflected a growing belief that self –harm could win God’s favor and spare the body or even the community. Many people attended gruesome performances of the faithful whipping themselves into frenzy. In the port of Venice, they instituted a law for 30-day isolation applicable to all incoming ships, called a “trentino”, and then extended that for what we now call a “quarantino”

In the 15^th and 16^th century, with the European hunger for world exploration, (and exploitation), 80 to 90% of indigenous populations in the Americas were wiped out by small pox.

Just this week America reached a milestone of 500.000 deaths due to Covid. There hasn’t been public mass mourning until President Biden and VP Harris stood in silence with 500 lit candles. We seem like Sebastian, suspended between two deaths, those of our loved ones and possibly ours. St Sebastian reminds us of that as he is depicted still alive a moment or two before his death. He shares in our personal vulnerability.

 

 Featured art work:

Digital drawing, dimensions variable. Last May, my 82 year old mother had to undergo massive surgery on a rare abdominal cancerous tumor during the Covid crisis. We had to drop her off outside the hospital and wait to hear from her after hours of surgery and recovery. I did this drawing as a prayer and a nod to St. Sebastian. (And mom's doing great!)

Thankful to be a teacher

My Classroom in Zermatt was in a hotel, with tables lined up for a dozen students in each of the 4 classes. We covered the development of art and it's reflection on human's search for meaning, from prehistory to the Baroque periods. The students came from all over the United States and were high-achieving, brilliant, kind kids. They soaked in all the information and then, because we lived together, I was able to witness the real life application of their knowledge in conversations over dinner or walks in the village, and in the field trip to France. We moved in pods to keep clear of the virus and were together 24/7. Between classes we were with them as we traveled, hiked or skied.

I am so grateful for the opportunity to improve my teaching. I had a co teacher, Nicki D'Onofrio, who really knew her Italian classics and shared her passion for mythology. Together we bounced through the material and learned from each other. It was great having a partner so young and vivacious... as an exercise freak, she was nicknamed by the kids, "Quadzilla". I was called "Bob Ross" as my radio label, perhaps because I could seem pretty calm no matter the incident?

The sweetest part of the whole gig was being able to teach live.We did not resort to screens or virtual environments. The kids were stripped of any technology- no phones or computers, and they wrote everything out in pen or pencil! Research involved library books. Very old school. 

It took a lot to write out essays and make note cards and read 20 pages of text book a night. So the rapid hikes over mountain passes and to trail huts really did keep the body in check and help the focus. 

The schedule for a school day looked like: early breakfast and pack a lunch, three-hour-long morning classes within the hotel, a 5-hour break where we skied or climbed or hiked, followed by three more classes in the evening, a quick sit down dinner, a two-hour study hall and a 15-minute break before lights out! This went on for days, and days, regardless of the calendar! Then suddenly there would be an announcement of brunch, followed by a two-day hike or a 70-mile bike trip or paragliding options. 

While I was teaching, I was learning. A lot.

Nightmares

(continued Daily Drawings during the Covid Pandemic)

Nightmares/ April 24

A month into the national quarantine and numbers of deaths silently continue to rise. Unemployment increases are shouted about in the news. Congress tries to print more money. Alternative stations start floating conspiracy theories. The president encourages protesters to ignore the science, suggests injesting bleach, and screams hysterical over trying to find someone to blame.  No one I know will talk politics, because it is too exhausting and unbelievable. What outrages us one day is overshadowed the next. I feel like I am holding my breath and waiting.

The city, two hours away, empties out and soon all the empty houses on our country road are filled with city people. The stores seem ransacked. There is still no toilet paper to be had. Or whole wheat flour. The trash thrown along the road reflects a higher economic shopper. Maybe we are all high, panting thru stifled homemade masks.

Mask Making/ April 11

I attend church on line, and the local hospital erects a tent in the parking lot to handle the expected rise in patients.  I can’t sleep and worry about my job as a school teacher.

Easter Sunday/ April 12

Hospital Tent/ April 13

The New Normal

(Continuing the Daily Drawings During Quarantine)

Pajamas/ March 27

Feeling wiped out by stress, insecurity, the moon’s position, or imagination, I beat myself up for being weak and dull.  

Wipe Out/ March 21

 Astrological influences aside, we make efforts to dance to the radio, support local restaurants with take-out, sit on the deck at sunset. The calendar loses all its power to define life. Days run into each other, melt, and stop altogether. 

TakeOut/ March 22

I wear my pajamas all day, for days on end, and nobody notices.

Calendar/ March 25

Time for Worry/ March 26

(Self portrait in the hour glass)

 

Life on Pause, Work is Virtual

(continuing the Daily Drawing During a Quarantine)

 

Another Password/ March 19

By the end of March, the mortal predictions were horrendous and our national leaders acted like buffoons. The overwhelming message was to avoid going out, being within 6 feet of another person, touching your face, or touching anything. 

New protocols for work were straining my brain bank of passwords and the ancient computer software systems that I had in place. In order to keep up with scheduled events and meetings, I uploaded, up graded, downloaded and installed until I just had to surrender. Life was on pause and work became virtual, and it was bound to take a toll.

Handwashing/ May 4

Face Touching/May 5

 

Drawing during Quarantine

A Vector at the Door/ March 20

“Quarantine” is derived from the Italian word for 40 days. Back when the Bubonic Plague was hitting Venice, the city leaders took it upon themselves to close their borders and limit all traffic going in or out for 40 days, at the end of which the danger seemed passed, and the word “quarantine” stuck.

On March 13, 2020, when my government leader, (NY State Governor Cuomo), mandated closures of businesses, schools, churches and restaurants…(everything that was not deemed “essential”), I turned to my home and wondered what self-isolation really meant. It seemed very abstract.

The first day I raked the yard and was amazed that nature was still on track, doing its thing regardless of the political fallout or terrorized feelings we were having. 

Daffodils/March14

I reached out and heard from my children and close friends who live further away. 

Reaching Out/ March 15

I felt assured that cleanliness would be the battlefront, and made sure to stock up the pantry. I am still not sure what the fuss was about toilet paper, but all the stores ran out of it early on! We were cautious of visitors and wary of interruptions. Life was already shifting

Soap/ March 18

Stocking Up Provisions/ March 24

Image of the "Mother of Modern Medicine" Inspires Hope for Vaccine.

As we try to “flatten the curve” of stress on our medical facilities and healthcare workers, we pray for a vaccine against Covid19. Doctors are studying patient responses and leaning over lab Petri dishes with questions. No doubt they will turn to the immortal cells of Henrietta Lacks, called HeLa cells, that have helped fight numerous diseases from Polio, Ebola, Parkinson’s to AIDS.  

Who was Henrietta Lacks?

Henrietta Lacks, a young mother of five, died in 1951 at John Hopkins Hospital from cervical cancer that her Doctor noted "looked like pearls". He had stitched tubes and pouches filled with radium inside her cervix, as was standard treatment at the time for invasive cervical cancer. He also took some cell samples from her cervix, without her knowledge or consent, which was also standard practice at that time.

Henrietta, the great, great, granddaughter of a slave, died that same year at the age of 31. Her cells in the lab replicated quickly and continually and amazed the doctor with their seeming immortality. They were the first human cells to reproduce outside the body! Afraid of being sued, the doctor gave the cells a code name, “HeLa” and shared them in labs across the country. They are still the most commonly used cells in research today.

The story turns rough when you learn that in the 1970’s some scientists, with secret agendas, did research on Henrietta Lacks' children without their informed consent. Then in 1975, a family friend asked about the source of the Lacks cells that his coworkers, at the National Cancer Institute, were studying. It brought a light to the two decades of darkness that the Lacks family had been kept in.

A book was written, then an HBO movie. In 2010 the John Hopkins Hospital donated a grave marker to her unmarked plot. It says: “Here lies Henrietta Lacks, Her immortal cells will continue to help mankind forever.”

To say that Lacks is a global phenomenon would be limiting. In 1962 her cells were launched into outer space aboard a Russian satellite for study. Two years ago, the National Museum of African American History ofCulture and the National Portrait Gallery jointly acquired a painting of Lacks. It adds a beautiful and much needed face to the woman often called “the mother of modern medicine”.

Kadir Nelson with his painting of Lacks

Who painted her portrait?

Kadir Nelson (b.1974), an American artist, was commissioned by HBO for the 2017 movie premier of “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks”, to paint the first portrait of Lacks. An author of several best-selling children’s books on African-American culture and lead artist for Steven Spielberg’s 1997historical drama Amistad, Nelson is known for his larger than life portraits of African American leaders. According to his website, Nelson chooses “subject matter that has emotional and spiritual resonance and focuses on the journey of the hero as it relates to the personal and collective stories of people."

There was no portrait in existence of Lacks save for two small family photos. Nelson used those as well as a vocabulary of symbolism to tell Lacks' story. Standing in a red dress, Nelson paints a yellow straw hat as a halo around Lacks’ head. Her strong faith is reflected in the bible she holds with her hands crossed over her womb. A complex “Flower of Life” pattern against which she stands is the ancient symbol for immortality and exponential growth. The pearls around her neck reflect the doctor’s note about how her cancer grew. A pendant of a nest represents motherhood and the hope of fresh birth. The repeating flower pattern on the dress symbolizes the biological bounty that she shed without knowledge for our salvation. The most poignant details are the two small buttons missing from her dress. They symbolize that something precious was taken from her.

Hopefully, soon the HeLa cells will demonstrate another cure.

Not All Hospitals are Equal

In the light of today, when countries around the world are scrambling to build hospitals, virus test sites, and labs, I can’t help but reflect on the glorious façade of the Ospidale degli Innocenti. Back in the late 1400’s, the Silk Merchant Guild of Florence hired Filippo Brunelleschi, who would go on to become one of the renaissance’s greatest architects, to build the first public building to receive and house orphan babies as community service. 

Brunelleschi pulled together ideas of scale and optics that glorified human proportion and signaled the beginning of the Renaissance in Europe. 

The hospital façade is longer than tall. A colonnade of composite columns rhythmically punctuates the full front. Each column is placed apart at a distance that equals their height and the arcade behind them maintains the same measurement, creating a series of cubes. Sweeping arches fly up from each capital and leap down the length of the building, like a beating pulse. In the triangular spaces where the arches meet there are tondos, (circular framed), ceramic babies in sculptural relief. Above, on the top floor of the 2-story building, the rectangular windows have triangular caps that visually lift the weight of the horizontal building upwards. The design incorporates grey stone and white stucco to break up the space into geometric patterns. The whole building feels light and measured.

Brunelleschi was a trained goldsmith, and sculptor, but when in 1403 he only won second place in the competition to create panels for the FlorenceBaptistery doors, he seemed to quit all that and turn to architecture. He is known for designing innovative machines to help construction, and for his greatest masterpiece, a wonder of the world, the largest Dome of the time, theDome of Santa Maria del Fiore. It is more then 150 feet across and involved construction 180 feet in the air. It took 18 years to build and there were only three accidental deaths recorded! Brunelleschi, a problem-solver, patented many innovations to get the job done. Born in 1377, he died ten years after the completion in 1446 and is buried under the dome.

My son, another problem solver, is working in construction with a company proposing fast pop-up buildings for FEMA. It looks as though they will be made of extruded recycled plastic, and dome like in shape. I wonder if asking for columns and arches would be too much? Maybe some tondos framing the virus?

Poignant Art in Times of Panic

Today with all the news headlines are of crashing stock markets and shutting markets, uncertainty (and insensitivity) in political leadership and a contagious, possibly terminal, epidemic on the loose, we can look to the arts for humor, brevity, distraction or focus. Artists ideate and imagine. Ideation is the process of pulling forth solutions to a question. The role of the artist is to imagine- and that means to give form to an image, movement, or sound as a solution.

I am reminded of an artist who was able to alter a simple iconic image and make it resonate as the voice of the disenfranchised. In his best images he combined rage and tenderness. David Wojnarowicz, (1954-1992), was an American artist at the peak of his career in the 1980’s. Working under the slashing (and insensitive) government of President Reagan and amidst the scorched-earth Aids body count. He turned personal confessional expressions into powerful political activism. Wojnarowicz suffered a life of childhood abuse, homelessness, teenage prostitution, and by the time he was a young adult he was losing his friends to the Aids crisis. His art famously clashed with forces of censorship and repression. He called out, with his art serving as a social critique, the political mythmakers such as Jesse Helms and the conservative Christian’s who would insist that condoms and safe sex not be talked about in schools. Wojnarowicz most famous work, Untitled, 1988-89 is a platinum print photograph taken as a section of a natural history diorama. It is of the American buffalo jumping, one after the other, over a cliff. The image is beautifully developed and hauntingly cropped. It symbolized the hopelessness people felt within the medical crisis looking at government policies. His image brilliantly spoke to the marginalized, from the Native Americans (the diorama story) to the Aids victims.This was seen not only as the swan song of the poor, sick and politically invisible, but as the prediction for our society as a whole if we continued without a change of heart.

Untitled by Wojnarowicz

When a friend apologized for making art that was less than political, that focused on beauty, Wojnarowicz replied, “…these are so beautiful, and that’s what we’re fighting for. We’re being angry and complaining because we have to, but where we want to go is back to beauty. If you let go of that, we don’t have anywhere to go.”

self portrait by Peter Wojnarowicz

 I'm thankful for Wojnarowicz and artists like him that do the dirty work, remind us of death, and of what is valuable (and worth fighting for) about life.

Coronavirus Shadow is as Terrifying as Breugel's Triumph

Triumph of Death by Bruegel ca.1562

When I think of the Coronovirus leaping around the globe and adding to the daily death count, I think of one of the most terrifying paintings in history, the Triumph of Death, an oil-on-wood-panel painting, created in 1562. It has something, like this virus, of everyone’s worst nightmare. Set along a coast in a village with commerce, the scene looks like a premonition of hell. Flames and smoke dot the horizon. It’s an eco-horror. There isn’t a sign of any green life in the landscape. Trees are being chopped down. The land is scorched and rust colored. A bloated fish gasps on the shore. The painting is of a jumbled panicked populace surrounded by almost quaint little scenes of victims stuck in torture contraptions, and coffins sinking into the mud in the surrounding fields. It looks like the cursed forecast of what we can expect if the stores run out of medical masks, or you are stuck in an airplane full of coughing aliens.

Not enough is known about Pieter Bruegel the Elder, the artist from the Netherlands who worked in the 1500’s. No one knows his birth date, but the time he was registered in an art guild (1551) to his death (1669) he executed 40 paintings and 60 prints. This particular painting is hung at the Prado Museum in Madrid.

In The Triumph of Death, the hysteria is loud and panoramic. Men, women, babies, the rich, the poor, the laborer, the gamblers, soldiers, monks, and kings, are all tormented and terrified. Skeletons arrive in massive numbers and outnumber the living. They arrive on boats and by horseback. They interrupt meals, disrupt commerce and dismantle forts. They amass an army, creating a wall of coffin-shaped shields.  They pull wagons piled high with skulls, trampling over victims, and herding crowds into a large dark door: a death trap in the side of a hill. They wield long slivered scythes and blow on trumpets, even drumming percussion with bones. A woman, face down, cradles her baby while dogs eat it’s face. A man is hung with his pants down. A bewildered king is taunted by a skeleton holding up an empty hour-glass.

Everyone in the painting is in the throes of death except for two young lovers in the lower right corner. They are seemingly oblivious and feeling immortal as they play music and read. But, behind them, a skeleton has picked up an instrument and is playing along.

On a barren hill to the left, two skeletons ring a large black bell.

Painted during a time when northern Europe was rocked by pandemics, reeling under the ruling religious wars, and leery of the inventive fury of the Inquisition, pictures such as this were called “moral paintings” because they were warnings to live right. No one was/is immune to death. Washing hands hadn’t caught on and religion, literally, could kill.