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!
Back in April, I submitted an application to participate in the annual Word & Image: Writers and Artists in Dialogue show at the Hoffman Center for the Arts, a lively art center located on the north Oregon coast in Manzanita. My application was accepted and 12 artists and 12 writers were randomly paired during a Zoom meeting in mid June. Names were drawn from a hat and I was paired with Evan Williams. We both have North Coast connections: Evan has had a family cabin at Neahkahnie for years and lives in Portland. I grew up visiting our family cabin at Sunset Beach and now have a a house in Astoria and split my time between Astoria and Salem. Here is a bit more about Evan: Evan Morgan Williams has published two books of short stories. A Neahkahnie regular since 1969, his stories are realistic fictions, often set along the Oregon Coast. He lives in Portland, where he teaches in a high-poverty middle school.
The project worked like this (stay with me, it can sound confusing): I submitted three images of art I had created in the past. Evan submitted three pieces of his writing. Evan received an email with images of my three paintings and I received an email with copies of his three writings. I was to create a new piece of work in response to one of his writings, and Evan was to write a new story or poem in response to one of my three pieces of art.
I chose Kimberly’s Hands, which Evan said I could share in this post:
After the love-making failed, Michael let Kimberly’s hands take his. Her pleading touch was dry as paper. It didn’t used to be this way. Michael remembered his hands in water, plunged into a mountain creek ahead of an advancing burn. He and his crew had been dropped in a mile ahead of the flames. It was hazard pay, and they earned it. The creek was going to be the line. Michael did not know where that water came from or where it was going. His hands in the water, cold, clear, smooth, lifting what he could to his sooty face. There were ferns and thimbleberry along the shore, and his hands ached, and the water was clear and silent as it slid over jewel-colored stones. That little stream had no idea what was coming over the ridge. The crew tapped a portable pump into that stream, a two-stroker, ugly noise, shaking like a jackhammer, and they hosed down the brush and trees, up and down the creek, until they ran out of petrol, but it wasn’t enough. The fire came. They ditched the pump and ran for their lives. Nothing they could do. Never found that sweet water again. It was probably dry now.
“Michael, come back. It’s all right. Look at me.”
“I know it’s all right.”
Once Kimberly’s hands had felt exactly how that water used to be. Now her hands felt how that water was now.
I chose to paint my response to the story written by Evan and I began by writing his story across the surface of my prepared panel.
The story was layered and nuanced, so I added layers of oil paint mixed with cold wax. For a while the painting looked like this.
It continued to morph and I frequently reread Kimberly’s Hands.
It finally reached that point where I knew it was completed.
“Under Perilous Conditions,” plaster, oil, and cold wax by Dayna J. Collins
My process statement in response to Kimberly’s Hands:
Water, cold, clear, smooth. Ahead of the flames. The water was clear and silent. The fire came. Her pleading touch. The visual language of “Kimberly’s Hands” resonated as I translated Evan’s words into a painting. My own response conjured the passage of time, memories, the devastation of fire, the rejuvenation of water, aging, and desire. I started my piece by writing Evan’s prose across the surface of my board, then began adding layers of paint, partially covering the words. Through the use of layers, texture, and color, I created a visceral and abstracted response.
During my painting and processing over the six weeks, Evan had chosen one of my paintings, The Strange Velvet Beautiful Sea, and in response wrote Diving In.
The engine ticks down. Just enough starlight she can see her reflection in the rear view mirror. She does her lipstick.
She looks out. A tent on the dark beach waits for her. A campfire, too, but a strong shape blocks the light.
She checks her lipstick again.
They met on the beach that afternoon. He taught her how to bodysurf. The water was frigid, but he said, “Keep moving,” and this made it all right. He taught her to lunge when the wave was good, to tuck her head and dive when the wave was bad. The shock of cold, dark, quiet, was exhilarating. She emerged into the light anew.
He said, “Diving into dark water, you accept the unknown. You meet it with your face. Knowing this changes nothing. Darkness reveals its secrets just the same.” She was surprised when he added, “You learn its cold indifference.”
She said she would come back in the evening. Freshen up at the motel. She told him, “I could be into you.”
The rear view mirror says perfect. She puts the lipstick in her purse along with the pepper spray and the Lady Smith. Five bullets. All her things are small. They take up all the space in her small world.
But a mirror’s reflection is an opposite. If you see confidence in the mirror, it means you are a coward and a fool. She re-checks her reflection, isn’t sure. She dives into that unknown.
“The Strange Velvet Beautiful Sea,” oil and cold wax by Dayna J. Collins
An image of my new art and the new piece of writing by Evan were due the end of July, and art work was then dropped off the end of September. Using the imagery and writings, a book was published showcasing all of the art and writing from the 12 artists and 12 writers. (It is a beautiful book and is available at the Hoffman Center for the Arts.)
Two broadsides were created, the first featured the art I created in response to Kimberly’s Hands, and the second broadside featured the story written by Evan in response to the art that I had submitted.
Fast forward to October when everything was revealed at the opening reception, which took place virtually because of you know what.
The reception was on a Friday night, and the exhibition opened on Saturday, October 3; we were able to visit the show on the following day. What a thrill to see the exhibit in person. The woman who was gallery sitting that afternoon said several people had expressed an interest in purchasing Under Perilous Conditions and someone had purchased my piece that afternoon.
Frenzy might be an overstatement, but I have been spending more time in my studio and after a fairly long hiatus, I have returned to painting with oil and cold wax.
Since 2016, I have taught a four-day Abstracted Landscape class at Sitka for Art and Ecology on the Oregon Coast. Because of the pandemic, this year’s class, which was sold out and scheduled for August 21-24, was canceled (as were all classes at Sitka).
Somehow the idea of not teaching this year inspired me to jump back in to oil and cold wax after several months of painting with acrylics and working on a series of collages. It felt good to crack open the gallon of cold wax and whip up a satisfying mound of wax, begin choosing tubes of oil paint to mix, and dig out my R & F Pigment Sticks.
I had one deadline for a painting (so that was a BIG motivator to get into the studio and do some painting and I’ll share about that project when I can), but otherwise, I decided to pull out old boards that I had used for demos in my Sitka class last year. None of the pieces were completed, they just had fits and starts of paint and marks on them, all used to illustrate techniques and then set aside. It was nice to have something to respond to besides a plain, blank, board.
Technique demo board
I also revamped a few boards that had been completed paintings, but something was niggling at me and those pieces got a light sanding to rough up the surface, and then I started over. It was nice to erase an old painting, but know that there was that sense of history lurking below the surface.
the presence or emergence of earlier images, forms, or strokes that have been changed and painted over.
What has emerged during my extended painting sessions is the reoccurring theme of circles. I have always loved polka dots and circles and they have shown up in my work for years, but lately I have tipped over into obsession.
obsession
[/əbˈseSHən/]
noun
the domination of one’s thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.
I’m using circles to excess and eventually I’ll reign myself in. Or not. In the meantime, here are several pieces in various stages of completion. All are on cradled wood substrates and they all have either Venetian plaster or limestone clay (the fancy name for joint compound) as an under layer. Other than that, some of the paint is from an earlier completed piece, or is from a demo at Sitka. Almost all of these have circles somewhere as a layer – in the plaster, buried in the paint, added on top of the paint, or some of the paint removed using a stencil to reveal paint, the circles serving as a window into an earlier layer.
What a wild week. Twelve women artists came together to take my Abstracted Play in Oil and Cold Wax workshop at the Sitka Center for Art and Ecology. Some had taken my class previously, a few had learned from other instructors, and quite a few had never worked with oil paint or cold wax, and one was new to painting. There was some gnashing of teeth, lots of laughter, a little whining, a smidgeon of frustration, and in the end, happiness with their success and the beauty of their pieces.
I did demos every morning and afternoon . . .
The women then worked on their own pieces, working in multiples so they had lots of pieces to work on at various stages of the process.
One thing I loved seeing was the camaraderie of how the women supported each other and worked together.
I gave my Artist Talk on Saturday after lunch (they all showed up for my talk, although this photo makes it look like no one did!).
On our last day, we worked in the morning and then in the afternoon cleaned up our supplies, spread out our body of work, and did a walkabout, sharing the highlights of the week.
Here is an assortment of the work created during the week, in no particular order, some on boards, some on Arches Oil Paper, some large and some small:
It was a really fun week.
PS This was the second time I got to teach at Sitka this summer. In June, there was an opening and I was able to slip in a bonus version of this workshop, which I blogged about earlier.
I’m a tad tardy in sharing about my June class at Sitka Center for Art and Ecology, but it has been fun looking through all of the photos a month later. This class was special because Sitka had a last minute workshop cancellation and I was asked to teach an additional session of my Abstracted Play in Oil and Cold Wax (my August class filled quickly and had a long waiting list).
Sitka is located on the Oregon Coast at Cascade Head (between Lincoln City and Neskowin). I got to stay in Gray House, a cabin located just a short walk up from Boyden Studio, where my class was held.
Gray House
I love the process of preparing to teach – walking the grounds, the lesson planning, and getting the studio set up.
Boyden Studio
Once class got started, it was a whirlwind of activity. I started each morning with a warm up exercise, and then moved into teaching techniques. Students were given lots of time to practice and play – and they all jumped in with a fearless enthusiasm.
This routine was repeated for four days and it was a blur of heightened energy, creativity, and beautiful results.
On the fourth day, we worked in the morning, and then cleaned up in preparation for our sharing and wrap up.
During our class, I did warm ups along with students and also illustrated how working in a visual journal can be great inspiration for creating paintings.
I’m already excited for my next class, August 22-25.
Last November, I was invited by Barbara Bassett to do a show with her at her gallery, Barbara Basset Art Gallery, located at Pudding River Wine Cellars. I’ve long admired Barbara’s work and love the setting of her gallery, so I said yes.
We got together several months ago to plan for our show and come up with a title; we both liked Nature’s Rhythm, as it gave us freedom to create in our own styles.
I wrote a quick blurb about my pieces:
Color is an overriding theme in Dayna’s work. Whether she is painting abstract landscapes or creating more nonrepresentational work, color always finds its way into her paintings, mimicking or exaggerating nature’s wild palette.
We hung our show last week with the help of Sean, the owner and winemaker at Pudding River Wine Cellars.
Barbara worked big, I did a series of 12×12 inch pieces.
We got the show hung quickly, and then we did a timed selfie.
Some of the pieces I will have in the show:
“The Thread of a Path,” plaster, oil, and cold wax, 12×12 inches.“Spellbound By Thoughts,” plaster, oil, and cold wax, 12×12 inches.“Grateful For the Silence of the River,” plaster, oil, and cold wax, 12×12 inches.“A River of Gratitude,” plaster, oil, and cold wax, 12×12 inches.“A Silver Curtain of Rain,” plaster, oil, and cold wax, 12×12 inches.“The Hum of Mosquitoes,” plaster, oil, and cold wax, 12×12 inches.“A Pulsing Wave of Gratitude,” plaster, oil, and cold wax, 12×12 inches.“The Light Glimmers On,” plaster, oil, and cold wax, 12×12 inches.
The opening reception is Wednesday, May 22, 4:00 – 6:00 pm. The Pudding River Wine Cellars and Barbara Bassett Art Gallery are just a ten-minute drive from from Silverton and 15-minutes from Salem, through the beautiful countryside. The show will be up for several months, so if you can’t make the opening, take a short drive and visit this beautiful winery and gallery.
A few months ago I was contacted by Mary Lou Zeek, an artist and art force in Oregon, asking if I would be interested in being the featured artist for the Family Building Blocks annual fundraiser, Uncorked Live. I was familiar with Family Building Blocks and I knew they did excellent work in our community; their motto is: Keeping Children Safe and Families Together. I did a little research on their annual auction and in pretty short order told Mary Lou I was definitely interested and to please put me in contact with the Uncorked organizer.
I had been working on three new large paintings (30×40 inches) and I thought any one of them might be a possibility. I was also working on a fourth painting (36×36 inches), that was coming along. A date was set of April 1st to decide on a painting. Because I have lots of work hanging in my house, it was decided that a committee would come to my house and select a painting.
The group walked through my house: upstairs, main floor, and downstairs, looking at their options. They settled on three possibilities, and my husband lugged each of them outside so they could be viewed in the best light. The three options included:
“Morning Clouds Giving Way to Sunshine,” plaster, oil, and cold wax, 30×60 inches.
“It Smelled Like the End of Summer,” plaster, oil, and cold wax, 30×40 inches
“Against a Cloud Lit Night,” plaster, oil, and cold wax, 36×36 inches.
The ladies whittled it down to two selections and asked me to choose as they wanted me to select the one that best represented me. I chose Against A Cloud Lit Night because it was my most recent painting, but also because I had painted it with the auction in mind.
The painting was delivered to the photographer the first week of April, photographed and then returned to me to finish drying until the auction in mid May. Last week the painting was delivered to Zenith Vineyard, where the auction was being held.
The perks of being the featured artist for this prestigious event was having my art featured on the cover of the auction catalog and for my art to be on the wine labels of the bottles of wine, which were given to everyone in attendance. What I didn’t know was that my art would be etched onto a jeroboam of wine (a jeroboam is equivalent to six standard 750 ml bottles – who knew there was such a thing!). The etched label was gorgeous and even had texture.
Patrice Altenhofen, Executive Director of Family Building Blocks, holding the jeroboam of wine.
Uncorked Live was held last Saturday night, May 18th. It was a surreal evening; seeing my art on display, then being handed an auction catalog with my art featured on the front. Everyone in attendance received a bottle of red wine or sparkling chardonnay, both with my art on the label.
Two people asked for my autograph, first on the cover of the catalog, and then later to sign a bottle of wine.
What a thrill.
I was anxious leading up to the actual auction, fearful that no one would bid on my piece. My painting was the fifth on the line up . . . .
. . . and it sold for $3,500. I later learned that two jeroboams of wine had sold for $850 each and one of the bottles was purchased by the owner of a vineyard who wanted it on display at her vineyard for the art rather than for the wine.
I was happy to have helped raise over $5,000 for this wonderful organization keeping children safe and families together.
The Little Things show at Guardino Galleryin Portland is my favorite group show of the year. I don’t know how many years I have participated, but this year will be the gallery’s 18th year. For the current show, there are over 58 participating artists and the only requirement is that all pieces are 7×7 inches and smaller. I created 12 abstract paintings on cradled panels, each is 6×6 inches.
Here are my pieces:
“The Waters of the Night,” oil and cold wax by Dayna Collins.“The Sudden Dip into Evening,” acrylic and cold was by Dayna Collins.“The Heat of the Long Afternoon,” Oil and cold wax by Dayna Collins.“The Heart is Restless,” oil and cold wax by Dayna Collins.“The Flash of Summer Lightning,” oil and cold wax by Dayna Collins.“The Darkness of the Water,” acrylic and cold was by Dayna Collins.“Outside the Window,” oil and cold wax by Dayna Collins.“Dropped Through the Gate of Memory,” acrylic and cold wax by Dayna Collins.“Dreaming of Drums and Magic,” oil and cold wax by Dayna Collins.“Another Knot in the String of Time,” plaster, acrylic, and cold wax by Dayna Collins.“All the Moments of the Past,” plaster, acrylic, and cold wax by Dayna Collins.“A Deep Pool of Silence,” oil and cold wax by Dayna Collins.
The show runs through December 30 and all pieces are take and go. If you’re looking for original art and creative gifts, this would be a perfect place to shop.
The Salem Art Association invited established and emerging artists (who live or work within 25 miles of Salem) to submit artwork for Radius 25: Through My Eyes, a juried group exhibition at the Bush Barn Art Center in Salem.
There were 230 entries for this group exhibition, with 50 works of art selected by juror Jennifer H. Pepin, an artist and owner of J. Pepin Art Gallery in Portland, Oregon. My entry, In the Fading Light of Evening, is plaster, oil, and cold wax, 18x24x2 inches, and was one of the 50 pieces selected for the show.
“In the Fading Light of Evening,” by Dayna J. Collins.
The show runs through August 25 at the Salem Art Association’s Bush Art Barn.
My mom died suddenly on March 13 after a brief illness. She passed on her own terms, peacefully and after saying goodbye to family and friends. I felt lost and sad. I found myself in my studio a few days after her passing, mixing oil paint with cold wax, and beginning to find my way back to myself.
About a week ago, a friend contacted me and said she was unable to attend a workshop in Portland and wanted to gift me her place in the class as she felt it would be a healing place for me to be. I met Kathleen two years ago on a cruise to South America and we hit it off. We were both artists, so we had endless conversations about creativity and various mediums, and in one South American port (neither of us remember where we were), we spent the day walking, talking, and taking photographs. We stayed in contact and became even better friends.
At first I felt mixed about taking the three-day class, then I realized it was exactly what I needed. Kathleen knew.
The class was taught by Serena Barton, an artist I have known for several years and always loved her work. I told Kathleen I would be honored to take her place and I packed my bags for the three-day class in Portland. I’ve worked in oil and cold wax for several years and have taught it myself, but I put on my student hat and just showed up, ready to immerse myself into the process.
Serena is an excellent teacher, and her methods are wild and free. I love this photo of her demo space.
I started slowly, just laying down paint, with the idea of working looser and wilder than my usual careful self. I painted so many things, all of which got covered over and transformed by the third and final day. These are all starts, none of which remain.
I learned some new things, like applying India ink as the first layer, which I transformed so much, none of the India ink even shows, but I know that initial bold mark making is in there somewhere.
Studio views of the class.
Studio views of the space.
Here are the pieces I completed (or are in process).
Parting shot.
Thank you Serena, for three great days of art-making, and thank you, Kathleen, for your generosity and friendship.
