Sheila M. Evans

“I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” - Douglas Adams

I have a lot of painting to do. A lot. I mean, I knew I did, but the magnitude of the job ahead of me is really starting to hit home as I count down to four gallery shows coming up in the next few months. It’s a great problem to have, don’t get me wrong. But I probably need to complete ten small works, ten large oils and ten large pastels by February (the oils show is in May, but the oil paintings will need time to dry before varnishing). And with jury duty (*sigh*) next week and the holidays coming up, I will have to reach a previously unheard-of level of efficiency to get it all done. Wish me luck. Please.

(Isis Study, left, will be at the Tinman Gallery’s December small works show. I hope to use it as a study for a large oil to show in my Kress Gallery solo oils exhibit opening in May.)

At last, I’ve painted in oil again. It was a long time coming, between summer shows and testing out some new ideas with small pastel pieces, but I finally walked the two steps over to my oil easel and picked up a brush or two. Loved it, of course. I always do, although I’m still working out the bugs to make my studio lighting better for oils. Maybe a bank of north-facing windows and a skylight? Not likely since I’m working on the first floor of a two-story, 100-year-old house that I’m pretty sure would be seriously insulted by a remodel. As it should be.

Oh, well. Lighting considerations aside, I’m happy to have one more piece ready to help fill the enormous Kress Gallery for my oils show opening in May. The painting, Medusa, is a re-thought version of Medusa Study, the small pastel I posted a few weeks ago. Now that I’ve broken the ice a bit, I’m looking forward to more of what the oil side will bring.

It seems that I am barely back from the last round of shows when the juries start for the next round. My first deadline is in about a month and a half. It seems like I just did this around, oh, yesterday or so. Has it really been a year?

At least my previous show entry mistakes are still fresh in my mind. Last year I started entering shows as soon as they started accepting entries. Never again. After submitting my images, I changed my mind about what I wanted to enter. But once submitted, the entries were basically set in stone. This year I plan to spend the time leading up to those deadlines producing more options rather than kicking myself.

Generally about four art images are needed for an entry. I could easily find four images each of pastels and oils that I think are strong enough to show a jury, but here’s the thing: they need to look great together, not just on their own. And right now, I have three of each that I am happy with. So in the next month and a half, I need to come up with one strong oil and one strong pastel that flow with the other pieces. It’s an oddly difficult thing to do, but I’m enjoying the process. It gets me back into my painting groove, and even if some of the paintings don’t match my jury images, I do have several shows coming up that need new work. Win-win.

(Above, a sketch for a possible pastel jury image, Warm Spring Study.)

Getting back into the studio after a long absence can be a challenge. It’s not easy to slow down after summer’s mile-a-minute pace, to set aside until spring little booth projects devised during long drives, and just paint. One thing that can really help out in the motivation department is a new batch of reference photos. Lucky for me, I found the dahlias.

Not that dahlias are easy to miss. But if you’re as much a creature of habit as I am, it can apparently be done for several consecutive years. Nearly all of my reference comes from visits to the Manito Park perennial garden. Occasionally I’ll venture into the greenhouse, but that’s just above the aforementioned garden, and together those areas make up a very small percentage of a very large park. This year I determined to expand my horizons a bit.

Having enjoyed my recent work with daisies from the greenhouse, I thought I’d try working with something similar. I expanded my route through the park in search of zinnias. I found a few, but they didn’t inspire. So I kept walking. Then, as I crested Rose Hill, I spotted them—a bed of giant dahlias, most of them taller than me, in every imaginable color. Blooms the size of my head were just at that heavy, twisty decline phase that I love. Did I really “SQUEEEEE!” out loud? Probably.

Seven hundred and sixteen dahlia photos later, here’s Medusa Study, my first dahlia pastel. I expect it will become an oil painting soon. I also expect to have several hundred more dahlia photos before the frost finishes them for another year.

At last—I’ve finally gotten back in town, through with my outdoor shows, caught up on my various business, over the flu, and into the process of making art. Although this week I spent a great deal of time just planning new paintings and gathering reference, I did manage to finish a new pastel (Limoncello, left).

The pastel actually has nothing to do with Italian liqueur, but was instead inspired by a neighbor’s dying barberry bush. I’d seen this poor barberry most mornings for several months as I went on my morning walk, and was fascinated with the subtle colors in the early light. So last week, I finally got my camera and did something about it.

I always feel weird when people see me taking my reference photos, imagining what they might think. I was just getting my last few shots of this barberry when a woman and two young boys walked out of the house. I started walking again, thinking they hadn’t seen me, when I heard one of the boys say, “that lady was taking pictures of our yard!” Ugh. So, I stopped and explained what I was doing. The woman was very gracious and told me to take all the pictures I like (while probably thinking “as long as you stay away from my kids you crazy person”). Oh well, I got what I wanted and no harm done. So thanks, neighbor lady, for being so understanding and for not being overly fanatical about your garden.

(By the way, the unusual aspect ratio of my new pastel is in response to numerous mentions of a need for “tall skinny artwork” to fill odd spaces in customers’ homes. Hopefully this new size [24" x 8" before framing] will fill that need.)

Where has the summer gone? My friend Amy just reminded me she will start teaching again in two weeks. I am already most of the way through my show schedule. Summer has become my favorite season, but it disappears so quickly—divided among show days, travel days and in-between days. I’m taking advantage of a few of the latter at the moment, gearing up for Arbor Crest,  Bend and Sausalito with some painting. I took my new “daisy” pastels with me to Bellevue a few weeks ago, and was somewhat shocked when I sold out of them. So, my priority for the next weeks is to paint a few more for my remaining shows.

Before getting back to the studio, I had the idea to turn one of my horizontal daisy sketches on its end and make some adjustments to create a new composition. I don’t have a lot of time to paint, and planning my designs can be one of the most time-consuming aspects of the process. So I worked on that for quite a while, and even made a small sketch. I liked it, but in the end it wasn’t quite as inspired as I would have preferred to take to a large size. I tried tweaking the sketch some more, but eventually set it aside and started fresh. And within a very short time, I had worked out my idea for Golden Ascent, left.

This isn’t the first time I’ve chucked an idea and started a new sketch, when I really just wanted to get into the studio and paint. Now that I think about it, some of my favorite and perhaps strongest work has come out of similar situations. I think my tendency when clearing the slate is to go simpler in my designs. While Golden Ascent isn’t simple in every respect, the overall concept of the winged shape is. This is especially intriguing to me at this moment, because on a whim last week I purchased and read the book, “In Pursuit of Elegance” by Matthew May.  I don’t want to give too much away, because it is a fascinating read and I highly recommend it. But in essence it is about editing, leaving out, clearing the mind of the urge to solve problems by adding. My latest pastel drove the point home nicely.

For a few more examples of my favorite simplified designs, go here.

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As promised, I spent this past week on the oil side of my studio creating my latest painting, the final version of Serenity. As always I was afraid that I would have forgotten how to paint in oils, and as (almost) always I found it completely enjoyable and needn’t have worried. I was particularly glad to have chosen last week to get back to that easel, because I also spent some time last week lining up multiple gallery shows here in Spokane. 

So far I have two solo exhibits scheduled, both opening in the first half of next year. The first, at Tinman Gallery in north Spokane’s charming Garland district, is set for February 2010. It is an honor to be featured there, as the Tinman represents some of the region’s most respected artists.

Then in May, I will be back at the Kress gallery downtown, this time with my first oil-paintings-only show. The Kress is a big space. It eats oversized paintings for breakfast. Thus my relief at not having forgotten how to paint—I will need to do it a lot between now and then.

Lining up shows is thrilling and nerve-wracking and just another part of the daily grind, all at once. It is what I do, after all, but it never loses its excitement. I can go from thinking I have too many paintings to thinking I have far too few in the time it takes a gallery owner to say, “let’s put it on the schedule!” But there is no better motivator to do more and better than the prospect of a solo show. That looming deadline brings butterflies and peace of mind in equal parts, and I absolutely love it.

With my first show of the season only two weeks away, I’ve been spending some time on my traditional last-minute activities: framing and miniature pastels. Actually not so much with the framing, as it is not exactly my favorite thing to do. So I’m procrastinating a bit. But in a good way.

Anyone who has been in my booth at one of my shows has probably seen the basket of miniature pastels on my desk. I’ve been making these for a few years now. They are tiny, either 4″ x 6″ or 6″ x 9″, matted and ready to pop into a standard-size frame. I started because I wanted to offer original art that would be accessible to just about anyone. Not everybody comes to an art fair having budgeted for a major work of art, and not everyone has room for one. But if someone walks into my space and likes the art, this way they can take home something handmade and original without digging too deeply into their budget or their wall space. (I did try offering reproductions for about a minute and a half, but this is much more fun.)

So, every year about this time I spend a week replenishing my miniature basket. I love it. The pieces are simple and fairly quick to make. Plus it means it’s almost time to get out there and start the summer!

(Hazy Day, above, is one of this year’s crop of miniatures. It is 6″ x 9″.)