Tag: Dayna J. Collins

Emotional Alignments: On the Home Stretch

So many tasks to attend to once the art has been made. First up, is removing the tape from the backs of the cradled wood panels, sanding the backs of the boards to clean up painty messes (I got a little hand sander for an early Christmas gift!), titling and signing the pieces, getting them all wired, and then photographed and inventoried. Whew.

And in between all these tasks, I needed to write my Artist Statement, something I have been laboring over for the past few weeks.

In the midst of this frenzy of activity, I realized that all 20 boards wouldn’t fit in either of our small, economical cars, so on Saturday we loaded up Howard’s car with 16 of the boards (amazing we crammed in 16), and headed to Astoria, where I planned to apply the final coat of cold wax to seal the paintings.

We got the paintings unloaded and I took over the funky upstairs space at our Astoria Beach House. I covered the table and floors and got set up to give my right arm a workout: slathering on a thin layer of cold wax with a putty knife, setting up extra heaters to warm up the upstairs, and then letting the wax dry and set on the pieces in preparation for a final buff and polish the next day.

The paintings are now buffed and polished, nestled downstairs in the extra bedroom, and I even managed to finish my Artist’s Statement this morning while it stormed and rained outside.

The details for my upcoming show:

Emotional Alignments: an emotional response to 2020

RiverSea Gallery in Astoria, located on the northern Oregon coast

January 9-February 9, 2021

Opening Reception: Astoria Art Walk, Saturday January 9, from 12-8:00 pm (to allow social distancing all day); I’ll be there from 5:00-8:00 pm.

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.

 

The Arduous Task of Preparing for a Show

For the past couple of months I have put my nose to the grindstone. Being in the middle of a pandemic, life outside my house has been meager, so in many ways this has been the ideal time to put myself into a self-imposed studio timeout. I had the opportunity for a show at RiverSea Gallery, a contemporary art gallery in Astoria on the Oregon Coast. I have had art there for several years, I’ve been in group shows, and two years ago I had a show with my friend Stephanie Brockway. I had been thinking about asking for a solo show, but had never approached the gallery owner, Jeannine. Until October. I met with Jeannine and because of the pandemic, she was juggling the rescheduling of shows from 2020 into 2021; then she said that an artist had just cancelled for January 2021 and I could have that slot. In the big gallery. Gulp. Yes, please. Let the madness begin.

I work in layers. Many layers. It goes something like this. Gathering boards and painting them with a layer of acrylic or house paint. Once dry, I slather on a layer of plaster, which needs to dry overnight. The plastered boards are then schlepped outside to be lightly sanded, brought back into the studio, and sealed with a layer of acrylic stain. I like to baptize my boards with words, so I usually scribble a quote or something about how I’m feeling. Then I’m ready to begin actually painting. Because words don’t quite capture the physicality of this process, here is my photo essay depicting the first round of layers.

 

Now the boards are ready for painting.

When I originally pitched my show to Jeannine, my idea was for a show about waterlines, something I have been passionate about exploring for years. But as I began applying the initial layers of oil and cold wax, I realized the show was no longer about waterlines. When I needed to send an image to Jeannine for her November newsletter, I sent her this message:

I have been consistently working since we met in October, moving forward with the theme of Waterlines. I prepped 15 boards (20×20 inches up to 40×40 inches) with acrylic, plaster, acrylic, and then one to two layers of oil paint mixed with cold wax. As I began the process of reconciling the under layers with a finished composition, it became apparent that my heart wasn’t in a strict interpretation of waterlines. My original vision for the show was bold swaths of color representing waterlines, but as I began applying paint in bright bands of color, I realized what I was experiencing was more than waterlines; it was an emotional response to 2020: the pandemic, politics, and wildfires (as well as a series of personal family hardships). Waterlines always find their way into my pieces as inspiration, but this show isn’t about waterlines, but my emotional response to 2020. So things have changed a bit. I have titled the show: EMOTIONAL ALIGNMENTS. Once I started making this shift last week, my painting took off. I start my days enthusiastic and excited to get into the studio.

In my next post, I’ll share about the evolution of my paintings (now at 20 works in various stages of completion) using oil paint mixed with cold wax medium . . . . and the many hours I spend in my studio.

 

Poor Little Discarded Orphans

In my last post, New Studio? Almost . . . ., I wrote about revamping my studio and the need to clear out a long shelf of my creepy, vintage, broken, disheveled dolls (and doll heads). I wasn’t ready to get rid of them, but it didn’t make sense to put them in bins and store them in the shed. The dolls are my thing, not Howard’s, so I decided to live with them a while longer and the best place to do that was in my office. I began the arduous task of going through all of the dolls that I had removed from the shelves (okay, maybe I played with them for a little bit). 

I found some low profile shelves and ordered two sets. Howard got them installed pretty quickly, and I began deciding which dolls would make the cut. My favorite dolls are the ones with movable eyes and little teeth, and I had collected plenty of those over the years.

 

If you are creeped out by cracked, crazy-eyed, and overly loved dolls, you might not want to continue, but if you are intrigued by such a motley cast of characters, here are some of my favorites.

 

 

 

New Studio? Almost . . . . .

I came very close to signing a lease on a new studio this week. It was bigger, in a great location, and an affordable price. I’m in the middle of preparing for two major shows in 2021, so I was feeling cramped in my current home painting studio and felt like more wall space would help reduce my anxiety.

It was election day that I looked at the space and I was initially excited about the possibilities. Then I came home and really began thinking about it. I would need to cover the floor with canvas and the walls with plastic. Did I really want to paint in a Dexter kill room?  The lighting wasn’t great, but that was solvable. One thing after another and I began to feel more and more unsettled. Or maybe it was just election jitters. And then late into the evening, I knew that this new studio space was not the right fit for me. I conveyed my decision to my most ardent supporter, Howard, and at around 11:30 pm he popped out of bed and walked into my studio, turned the lights on, and just stood there. What can we do to make this space work better for you?  

A couple of ideas emerged from our midnight chatter. My shelf of vintage dolls and doll heads would need to come down so I could appropriate that space for studio storage (what!?!).  I would move my bookshelf so that that wall space could be converted to an area to hang a painting and make my painting supplies more accessible. But probably the best idea of the night: Howard would build me a movable wall so I could hang and work on two additional paintings.

The next day, Howard headed to the hardware store, bought supplies, and spent the rest of the day in the garage building me my movable wall. I’m in love! Not only with that guy in the garage, but with my new wall.

I took down all of my dolls.

I moved my bookshelf (with a little purging) to the closet and moved all of my boards at various stages of completion to the top shelf where the dolls used to live.

My space isn’t perfect, but it is sure a lot more useful. And I still need to use our upstairs landing for storing larger boards and for boards that are drying. Boards are still drying in our bathroom on top of the bathtub, but it is better than moving into a space that wasn’t the right place or the right time.

If you are curious about what my studio looked like last week, go take a look at the fall issue of Subjectiv: A Journal of Visual and Literary Arts, where my previous studio is featured on pages 89-96!

Subjectiv. A journal of visual and literary arts

I am delighted to share the Fall 2020 issue of Subjectiv: A Journal of Visual and Literary Arts. This is a stunning online journal, filled to the brim with art and words. Riis Griffen is the editor and C.W. Griffen is responsible for the layout. I was contacted by Riis the end of August, asking if I would be the featured artist for their In the Studio article. Hello, yes, please.

Interview questions were sent, answers written out, photos were taken, photos were edited. And now here it is, in living color, a beautiful reminder of how art and words heal, help us process, bring joy, teach us to solve problems, and as Riis says in the opening of this issue, I hope you can find a few moments of peace browsing through these pages, and enjoy a break from the tumult of the world.

There are two ways to view Subjectiv. You can go to the website by clicking HERE (you can also see past issues by using this link). Or if you prefer to view it in a magazine format, click HERE.

A teaser . . . you can read my interview and see photos on pages 89-96.

 

 

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

Salvage Collage: Vintage Hardware Style

Many months ago I was invited by Becky, one of the owners of Vintage Hardware in Astoria (on the Oregon Coast), if I would consider having a show in their Pop Up Gallery. I enthusiastically replied with a great big YES. Here are some photos of why I love this store and why I said yes.

The show was scheduled for July . . . and in July, we were all in the middle of the pandemic and things were closed down and people were hunkered inside, so we crossed our fingers and rescheduled for September. By the time September rolled around, things were starting to open (with limited hours, but open nevertheless). It was time to hang the show.

We hung the show on a Friday and on Saturday was the monthly Astoria Art Walk. It was never very busy, but friends came, family came, and shoppers and art lovers stopped in. I even sold several of my book board Salvage Collages during the afternoon.

The show is up through October 4. Check in with Vintage Hardware before visiting as their hours are limited right now.

 

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 . . . . .

 

Salem Art Group Daily Art Challenge

In July, my Salem Art Group hosted a 31-day art challenge, inviting the community to join our group in doing something creative every day for a month and posting on Instagram. I joined the challenge and managed to create something for all 31 days. I wasn’t always on time with my work or my posts, but I completed the challenge. Some days I did a little painting in my journal, other days I painted on 12×12 wood panels. And a few times, I did scut work, like prepping a bunch of panels. Most days I wandered into my studio and did something, but this challenge insured that I would go in and at the very least, create a collage or a small painting in my visual journal.

In no particular order and not all of my posts, here is a sampling of what I did during July to participate in the Daily Art Challenge.