Pandemic – Dayna J Collins

Colorful and Dynamic Abstracted Landscapes

It felt good to be back teaching at Sitka Center for Art and Ecology. Last year my workshop was cancelled due to the pandemic and I hadn’t signed up to teach this year because of the uncertainty with Covid. As cases began falling earlier this summer, Sitka’s Program Manager, Tamara, reached out to see if I would be interested in teaching a workshop in September. I jumped at the opportunity. As the workshop date approached, I watched as Covid cases once again surged. I was a little nervous about teaching, but Sitka had worked hard to provide a safe place with lots of protocols already in place. A couple weeks before my workshop, I asked Sitka to cap the class at eight students, to ensure that there would be plenty of space between tables in the studio.

Ready for class to start on Monday morning.

I could write about the week of art-making, the learning, the techniques, the epiphanies, the experimentation, the fearlessness, the laughter, the great energy, the hard work . . . . but instead I’m going to do a photo essay, which I think captures the essence of preparation and our week together.

The studio all set up and filled with so much promise.

Waking up on Monday morning in my little cabin in the woods.

A brand new gallon of Gamblin’s Cold Wax and a fresh pair of gloves. Yes, please.

Little scraps of paper as inspiration for colors, design, or just to jump start our imaginations.

Tam brought me flowers to match my hair.

Doing a demo using plaster (an added bonus).

Plaster demo was an added bonus, sharing how to seal the dried and sanded plaster.

Working, strolling, getting started for the day.

Loretta establishing her color palette for the day.

Loretta’s palette. I wonder why I love this so much.

Margaret fell in love with this wonky old roller.

The evening glow at the end of a day of painting.

Heidi getting the hang of making beautiful marks.

Paintings drying outside in the fresh air.

So many works in progress and the beautiful hum of activity.

I love working in the studio after class . . . .

Tam playing with Transparent Orange glazes. Kapow.

Doing a demo on mounting Arches Oil Paper to a cradled birch panel.

Group photo on a beautiful September afternoon.

Thank you to R&F Handmade Paints for donating pigment sticks and allowing everyone to go home with different colors.

Karla discusses some of her work on our final afternoon.

Margaret discusses some of her completed work.

Lynn discusses her work on our final afternoon.

Nancy does whatever is necessary to get the good shot.

Some of the work created during the week. . . . .

My heart is full and I am feeling grateful.

Emotional Alignments: Opening Weekend

My solo show at RiverSea Gallery, Emotional Alignments, opened on January 9 and I celebrated the opening for a couple of days. I had dropped my art off at the gallery on the Thursday before the opening and saw it for the first time on Friday afternoon.

When we walked into the gallery on Friday, our friends Greg and Tabor were there, so we had a nice long visit about the show.

On Saturday, the official opening and Astoria’s monthly Art Walk, ran from noon until 8 pm, the hours greatly expanded to accommodate social distancing in the midst of an ongoing pandemic. My friend Stephanie drove to Astoria and we spent the day playing in and around Astoria.

Saturday night arrived and I was at the gallery from 5-8 pm.

It was a pretty quiet opening, but I was able to visit with everyone who stopped by and social distancing was easily achieved. Our friends from Salem, Lois and Dave, were in Astoria for a few days and they popped in for a hello and to see the show.

Howard and gallery owner, Jeannine, had a nice rock and chat.

And a few days later, our daughter Amy and grandson Emmett were able to see the show.

I thought I would share a few selected pieces of the art on view.

“Bolting Brightly Ahead,” 12×12 inches, plaster, oil, and cold wax, by Dayna J. Collins.

“An Animating Surge of Adrenaline,” 30×30 inches, plaster, oil, and cold wax, by Dayna J. Collins.

“Despite the Current Situation,” 30×30 inches, plaster, oil, and cold wax by Dayna J. Collins.

“An Elegant Progression of Emotions,” 30×30 inches, plaster, oil, and cold wax by Dayna J. Collins.

“Staring Out at the World,” 36×36 inches, plaster, oil, and cold wax by Dayna J. Collins.

“A Canyon of Emotions,” 36×36 inches, plaster, oil, and cold wax, by Dayna J. Collins.

“A Semblance of Rhythm,” 36×36 inches, plaster, oil, and cold wax by Dayna J. Collins.

The show will be up through February 9 and all of the info on the show can be found by clicking here.

Surprise! Circles, Stripes, and Color

I don’t ever crave extraordinary moments anymore. Just small, gentle hums of beauty streaming from below, above, and beyond simply from paying attention. Sound. Light. Shadow. Art. Warmth. The night. The morning. Dreams that are not faraway but exist right here — already in my days, hands, and heart.

Victoria Erickson

One of the projects I’ve started working on is actually a resumption of something I started a year ago, a series of long, slender, wood cradled panels (4×48 inches). All five boards had been painted black with some bands of color already added, but today I pulled them out of the basement, hung them on my rolling wall, and while painting a large canvas on the opposite wall (another long abandoned project resurrected last week), I used the leftover paint from that painting on the tall, slender panels. Layer by layer, band by band. I know that the swaths of color I used to create my Emotional Alignments series influenced this current project. Bands and swaths again, but a bit wonkier and whimsical. At least for today. I’ll be working on these right on into the new year.

Some close-up peeks from different sections of the five panels:

When a Deadline Looms

If you read my last post, I shared about my upcoming show at RiverSea Gallery in Astoria and how my initial idea was the theme of waterlines, but somewhere along the way I realized it was no longer a theme I wanted to explore. Instead, I started thinking in bands and swaths of color, a design element I have been smitten with for years. My thoughts went to how I have always been attracted to color field art, so as I painted and worked on my boards, the idea of working in fields of color filled my consciousness. The words Emotional Alignments became the title of my show, and propelled me forward. I knew where I was going and I was excited to get into my studio every day; I had an enthusiasm I hadn’t had in a long time.

After getting all of my boards prepped, I kicked into full time painting, spending several hours a day in my studio adding layers of oil and cold wax. In my last post, I shared the process of how I prepare my boards with acrylic paint, plaster, and more acrylic paint, and now I’m showing and sharing the process of adding layers of oil paint mixed with cold wax.

The first order of business is to mix up cold wax with Galkyd (which helps speed the drying time), then mix oil paints with the wax mixture, making it the consistency of whipped butter (or shortening if you are old enough to remember that cooking staple).

I use the early layers to just get color down so I have something to respond to. I’ve been working on 20 pieces simultaneously, so drying space is at a premium, necessitating spreading out into our bathroom and the upstairs hallway.

Once I have one or two initial layers of oil and cold wax, often alternating between warm and cool colors so when I’m scratching through the wet paint, the earlier layer is revealed, it is time to begin thinking about a composition. I knew I would be focusing on bands of color, so I just started painting swaths, giving some thought to color, but not too much advance planning at this stage.

Eventually, I had another layer on the boards and it was time to begin making more informed choices to add variety within the swaths: warm against cool, texture against smooth, bright against dull, light against dark, busy against calm. I had the idea of using paint chips (from the hardware store) to play with color combinations.

I also gave a great deal of attention to the intersections between the bands of color, the interstices. I have long been fascinated with intersections: drawing into the layers to reveal earlier layers, what colors show through, adding lines of color with the edge of a squeegee, how to create bold interest, how to create quiet interest that invites a viewer to step closer to see the details.

And so it goes. Back and forth, adding, subtracting, standing back, scraping, excavating, laying down more paint. Mental and physical gymnastics.

Between painting sessions, is the inbetween, the drying time. I set up a fan and a heater to blow warm, dry air around my studio, a time for the paintings to rest, a time for me to rest. It all seems to help.

Paintings are being completed and I’m excited about them. They reflect how I have moved through the pandemic, politics, wildfires, and personal traumas this past year. Titling the pieces has been as therapeutic as painting them. I think I might just be okay.

In my next post, I’ll share the completed pieces. The show, Emotional Alignments, opens Saturday, January 9, 2021, at RiverSea Gallery as part of the Astoria monthly Art Walk.

Salvage Collage: Latest Book Board Collages . . . .

. . . . or what I did during The Great Pause Pandemic of 2020.

“The Poetry of Silence,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

” With a Theatrical Flourish,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“Time of Roses,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“Wistful Amazement,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“The Bits and Bones of a Life,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“Paris in a Week,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“Rebellious Tendencies 1,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“Strands of Thought,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“Poetic Effect,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“Exquisite Fragments,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“Are You Going Skating After School,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“A Delightful Surprise,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“A Matter of Celestial Balance,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“A Reckless Act,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“A Distant Calamity,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“Dream of Escape,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“Easy to Read,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“Without a Doubt,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“A New State of Wonder,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“A Secret Obsession,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

“Rebellious Tendencies 2,” Salvage Collage by Dayna Collins

What’s Happening Behind the Door of Studio A?

A History: Art Studios at Mission Mill

Studio F Shared With Tory

In August of 2014, my friend Tory and I were invited to join a group of artists who were opening a studio space at the Willamette Heritage Center; we named ourselves the Art Studios at Mission Mill. The space was pretty bland and boring, but in no time at all, we put our mark on our chosen studio: Studio F.

I used the studio for painting, but not as much as I had planned, partially because the space was just too small and I wanted to paint big. And partially because my process is messy.

Studio F By Myself

Then, in June of 2015, two studios opened up. When a studio space opens because an artist leaves, anyone who is interested states their interest and if more than one artist is wanting the vacant space, names are put in a hat and an impartial person draws out a name. Studio A and B both opened in 2015 and several of us put our names in the hat for Studio A. I didn’t get it, but Studio B was also open and Tory put her name in for that one and she got it, leaving me to have all of Studio F for myself.

Studio A

Fast forward to October, 2016, when Studio A opened up again. Two of us put our names into the hat, Rollie and myself, and we asked Max, the bookbinder, to draw a name.

This time my name was drawn and I moved to Studio A, leaving Studio F available, which Rollie moved into. Are you still with me? After all, this is about Studio A . . . .

By the time I moved down the hall to Studio A four years ago, I had already moved my painting practice home and started using my Mill studio for paper and collage projects. I quickly filled my space to the brim, the BRIM, with ephemera, black and white photographs, handwritten letters, typewritten documents, 3D tidbits, vintage this and vintage that . . . .

You get the idea. Although my projects morphed from my What’s Your Story collage series using black and white photos to using discarded books to create Salvage Collages, I just kept schlepping stuff into my studio, tucking things tighter and deeper. Fortunately, I’m organized, so things always looked pretty orderly, but the space was plump with stuff.

Studio A: Revamped

And then the pandemic hit in March. I started working on collages at home, so I took everything related to my Salvage Collages to my home studio: old books, book pages, book scraps, book linen, book boards – several loads over several weeks. I was content to work on book board collages for several months. Then two weeks ago, as my collage work was taking yet another turn, I found I was wanting more of my original paper collage materials: the letters, the ephemera, the booklets, the multitude of paper things I had tucked in bins and drawers. So with the help of Howard, we started making trips to the studio to bring things home. I discovered I wanted to bring it all home, not just the paper stuff, but also the fabric, trims, negatives, the whole shebang. We brought load after load and dumped it in the basement, my auxillary studio where I have all of my assemblage, found objects, and book collage material.

It two weeks to bring it home and two weeks for me to sort and find a place for it. At first it was so I would have access to the materials, but then it became about revamping Studio A.

Studio A: Revamped

Yesterday I brought home the remnants of what I wanted out, along with some of the furniture that filled the space. Today I spent the morning patching the holes (there were alot!), painting the patches, and vacuuming all of the nooks and crannies.

I love how sparse it is right now and full of possibilities. I have absolutely no idea how I will use my refurbished, refreshed, and quiet space. Maybe for reading art books that I never seem to have time for. Maybe for journaling. Maybe for writing about ideas. Maybe I’ll bring a specific project to work on. Or bring a limited number of materials and do a collage or journal page using only what is before me. Maybe, maybe, maybe . . . . .

Handmade Journal: The Great Pause (Part 2)

On March 23, I created a handmade journal, which I titled The Great Pause, referring, of course, to the Corona virus pandemic. Since that time, I have continued to work on the pages, gluing in more fodder, pieces of old books, and lots of scraps from my collage bins. Besides continual alterations and additions, I have been writing on the pages, in no particular order, just finding the best space to write down thoughts, quotes, poems, rants, and even daily activities during such a strange period in my life. I decided it was time to share some of the pages, calling this post Part 2. I could offer a caution that some will be offended, but it’s my journal and my feelings, so I’ll not write about why I included what I included, but just share photos of some of my pages as they continue to morph and emerge.