June 29, 2010: Earthly Connections

On Thursday I gave a gallery talk for "Coffee and Conversations" at the Columbus Cultural Arts Center.  http://culturalartscenteronline.org/linda_wesner  A lively group had gathered, as they do every month, to eat their bag lunches and ask questions of visiting artists. It was my turn to chat and listen to their observations about my current colored pencil solo show "Ohio Landscapes" in the main gallery.   The group asked practical questions, such as  "Do you pull over to the side of the road when taking reference shots? Do landowners ever chase you away?" I responded that the easiest method is akin to a "drive by photo shooting" from the passenger seat while someone else is driving the car. Over the years I have become pretty expert at this. (It helps to be on a smooth road!) The trick is to have your camera at the ready on trips - both short and long - so you don't miss that one unforgettable image.   The group also made thoughtful observations as we moved from one work to the next. I mentioned that my work is calm, but group members added, "Yet there is so much movement in the grasses and sky." I said my work was realistic, but many pointed to abstract qualities. As you can gather, I was on a learning curve, and a positive one, because these observations are the ones I aim to achieve in my work.   We ended up by "Field Trinity," which hangs by the front door to the Cultural Arts Center. I told them the panoramic fields of Ohio inspire me with their unique atmosphere.  I was reminded that my yoga instructor, Kit Spahr, once said in class that the breath is the door between body and mind, and I felt that the three burly trees are the bridge between field and sky.   The hour was up, and so we parted. I hope they felt inspired to create more art. I know I did.

June 9, 2010: Strawberries

For the last two weeks, every time I go grocery shopping, I find myself holding up box after box of strawberries, looking for the best assortment.  Finally, impatient with my quest for perfection, I realize they are all about the same, and I just stick one in the cart.   Pushing on with the rest of my shopping, I wonder what I was really searching for among all those identical boxes of berries. And then the door of memory opens, and I am back  among the endless rows of berry plants.  I jump as mosquitoes swarm, and my mother warns, "Be careful not to step on the plants!" I am new to berry picking, and ask repeatedly, "Is this one ripe enough?" Sometimes I just stand and watch the other pickers. Some women crouch, but most bend over. Every so often, one woman stands and arches her back, sighs, and then quickly grabs more wooden quart baskets and begins picking again. "Berries are sweeter this year than last," Aunt Doris remarks while she and my mother have a quick coffee and cookie break. "Yes, the smaller ones are the best," my mother says. "Remember when Lu put rocks in the bottom of the basket?" Mom asks. Aunt Doris laughs and says, "And when those city folks stopped at our stand, they asked her if they were all berries, and she said yes!"  My mother rolls her eyes and shrugs.   Finally we have our twelve quarts. My mother puts them in the trunk, we pay the farmer, and head home. She spends the rest of the afternoon making strawberry jam, and my first experience with chemistry is waiting to hear the "pop" when the jar lids seal.   So, if you will excuse me, I'm going to have a few strawberries before I return to my art studio. Their sweet juiciness takes me back to the fields of stored memories that I cultivate for fresh inspiration.