Purple painted lamp and other fun things

9 August 2008

My mom gave this previously white lamp to me years ago and I’ve moved it from place to place hoping to paint it. I finally got to it with Tom’s help. He not only helped with the painting but also with the encouraging… encouraging me to finish… it’s very helpful… and I feel much more productive with finished pieces. I also started using my great $10 sewing machine for the edges of the velvet.

The light purple is milk paint which I have previously mentioned in this blog and the dark purple is just acrylic with some gloss medium. This glossy/matte contrast was inspired by Sol LeWitt’s exhibit at the SFMOMA years ago.

I’ve been busy today, working on stuff… This morning I did a bit of web design. I’m designing Alameda Women Artist’s new website. It’s so much fun. Slowly, it’s coming together, the css and xhtml, but it’s making sense and I’m learning which is the extraordinary part.

I’m going to take my bike in to get it tuned up for next week’s Oakland Museum bike tour.

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  • Artist statement

    I’m hungry to learn and it’s through my process of creating that I’m ultimately satisfied. I’m curious about different materials and take on the challenge to incorporate what I’m most drawn to into my work. I’m intrigued to discover the resulting patterns and repetition. As I create, I explore my inner landscape. I’m attempting to uncover a stifled sound. It’s my challenge to express this internal voice through my art and ultimately, boldly, out loud.

    My quest to connect my voice with my work has led me to reexamine my personal history. The threads in my bookbinding and in my collage are entwined in my familial roots. Growing up, I remember a quilt frame my dad made, taking up our entire living room. His grandmother taught him to quilt using scraps of clothing. Years later, I began a quilt when a friend was teaching a class on patchwork. To my surprise, cutting up fabric and piecing it back together reminded me of my work with paper collage.

    As a child I would sew with my mom and what I most remember is the guilt I’d feel as I jammed up her machine. Now, when the threads and material bunch up they become useful fodder for my work. In some ways the threads act as a binding element, as in my books, and in other ways they are a reflection of my internal processes.