Shoes - from concept to finished project

The creative process for my dancing shoes, from concept to finished product:

This was a sketch I did on the flight home
from seeing family over Christmas.
At this point I didn't have the shoes yet -
just a rough idea of what I wanted to do when I did. 

The shoes arrived and I now had a canvas to work with! 

I alway do an initial sketch onto the canvas.
Sometimes, once I begin to paint, the ideas will change.
In this case my initial sketch didn't include
the sweeping lines at the bottom. 

The background done I could begin to think
about what colour I wanted my faery to be. 

This design wasn't in any of my original plans.
I knew I needed something on the inside of the right shoe
but it wasn't until I was working on the background
that I decided on this Art Nouveau style flower. 

I completely finished the right shoe before moving onto the left.
Sometimes I work more closely on both at the same time
but in this case I didn't have a final concept of what I wanted
the left shoe to look like. Finishing the right one first gave
me a lot of ideas for the left one. 

You can see from my initial sketches that my ideas changed a lot.

The finished product!
All laced up and ready for dancing! 

I'm really pleased with how they turned out.
I'm super excited to break them in with some public dancing! 

If you'd like a totally custom pair of knee high shoes
for only £80 you can order them through my website.
My shoe designs are done with the wearer in mind.
Let me capture your personality with a 100% unique pair of shoes!

www.faunawolfcreations.com/custom-canvas-shoes.html

How to Sculpt a Hare

I was very fortunate as a child to have extremely artistic and crafty parents. My dad is a very good sketch artist and incredibly talented wood worker and photographer. My mum is an amazing writer, storyteller and painter. When I was a kid my mum actually taught ceramics classes in the basement of our house - something you probably couldn't do now-a-days - which were open to neighbourhood kids and retired women.

Our basement was always full of a multitude of different ceramic pieces for her students to buy and paint and my mum had everything from glaze to acrylic to chalk. Because she had glaze, and because she used greenware (unfired ceramics) my mum also had a kiln. 

Having a kiln really was one of the coolest things which I most appreciated after I graduated from High School and still wanted to work with clay.

Moving to London has meant leaving behind the advantages of access to my parent's extremely well kitted out basement (My dad has a table and ban saw) and therefore having to think outside the box when it comes to my creative endeavours.

I love sculpting and truly, of all the art forms I've come to embrace, it has been the one I have the most passion for. Recently this love has turned into a sort of frustrated energy as I lack the space and resources to do the sculpture I did when I lived in Canada and only a five minute drive from a free kiln. I set out to find a material I could use to satiate this desire which wasn't as expensive as a polymer clay as I wanted to do something larger. In fact, I'd really love to do an incredibly large scale sculpture, in the realm of Henry Moore although not abstract, but for now that remains something on my To Do list for life.

Through just a small bit of research I was able to locate non-firing clay at a suitable price which would be delivered to my door. I promptly ordered it and then, upon receipt, popped it into my art supply drawer and left it for some weeks.

I knew I waned to sculpt but I wasn't sure what and I was still restricted by a lack of suitable studio space to get properly mucky in. In my experience creative energy tends to build and build until it becomes either nervous energy which keeps me from sleeping or it spills over and I am forced to create and stop making excuses about the space I have. 

On a particularly lovely day my energy peaked and I rapidly set myself up outside with a bowl of water and my lump of clay. And this is what I made.

The initial structure. I let the clay dry a bit after I got this far
so I could make modifications which would hold in place
as I don't like using wireframes. 

I left it to dry for some hours before adding the legs.
The body needed to be firm enough to hold it's own weight
as the legs are quite narrow. 

A view from the front after the legs were finished.
I made sure the clay was less wet when I was working with it.
Soggy clay tends to 'wilt' and often whole sculptures will
collapse on themselves. 

After a week of drying. For non-firing clay it's best to
let it dry slowly so I'd kept it loosely covered in cling film. 

The finished product. After it's dry you can paint it with pretty much
anything you like and then use a sealing spray.
In this case I painted it with acrylic. 

I'm really pleased with this piece as it's the largest I've ever sculpted out of clay
and given that it was my first time working with non-firing clay I think I managed all right. 

To see more of my artwork or to order a custom piece visit 

www.FaunawolfCreations.com 

If you want to learn how to motivate yourself to do your own creative projects visit www.CreativeLifeCoachLondon.com

Bodhisattva

I talk about Pema Chodron quite a lot on this blog. It was my psychologist who introduced me to her writing by recommending Start Where You Are. Since that first introduction I fell in love with her way of writing and sharing her thoughts with the world. Though we have never met I admire her spirit and the energy she shares through her interpretation of Buddhist teachings.

Another strong, inspiring woman my psychologist encouraged me to look up was Hazel Dooney. An Australian artist, Dooney is proof of what dedication to ones craft can result in. She accepts that she cannot help but be an artist and in doing so she accepts that it is her responsibility to make her life happen. She keeps a blog of her experience as a self made, self marketing creative. One of the reoccurring themes in her blog is her general distaste for art competitions.

Today my love for Pema Chodron's teaching and my respect for Hazel Dooney's convictions came together in what could have been a moment of utter frustration, the story of which started last year at about this time.

When I first arrived in London I was overcome with the abundance of opportunity. I had lived most of my life in a city who's population had only just reached one million. It has one museum, a small theatre block, a newly opened art space and a handful of art supply stores. Compared to London, home of the greatest theatre district in the world, over two hundred museums, countless galleries and dozens of art supply stores, Calgary is a wasteland. Don't get me wrong, I adore Calgary and it will always be my home, but London just has so much more! A trip on the Underground is a parade past posters, billboards, signs and video advertisements for music, film, theatre and art. I immediately began scanning and filing away the advertisements I was seeing, and thus I noticed the BP Portrait Awards. I looked it up and discovered a competition open to any artist over eighteen to submit a portrait which could be selected and displayed in

the National Portrait Gallery just off of Trafalgar Square. The deadline for entries was only a month off, however, and I knew rushing something just for the sake of submission wouldn't be a wise choice. Besides, it was a yearly competition so I could just wait until 2011.

Flash forward several months to the summer. My partner forwarded me an email regarding an opportunity to attend a portraiture painting class at the National Portrait Gallery. Hosted by Sadie Lee, it seemed like a wonderful way to spend a Saturday and without hesitation I paid the fee and signed up. I quickly discovered that Sadie was a past winner of the BP Portrait Award and that her painting had not only been selected for the NPG showing, but was used to advertise the event. She described the odd sense of uncomfortable pride experienced at seeing her portrait displayed on the back of double-decker buses and along the platforms of the Underground.

Her story renewed my desire to create a painting which could be submitted to the competition but I was still struggling with who I could paint. Inspired by Sadie's passion for female artists I focused my mind on creating sketches of inspiring women, putting any thoughts of portrait painting to one side. I figured it would come to me when it came to me and I'm a strong believer in not forcing creativity. As it happened, the decision of who to paint came only a few weeks later. I was sat out in the garden, enjoying the shelter of the pergola on an extremely glorious summer day. I'd been working on a few sketches at once, one being Pema Chodron. I finished the shading and pulled my camera out to take a shot for my blog. The more I looked at what I'd drawn the more pleased I was. Sometimes I create something so incredibly good I'm

stunned that it's actually my own work. I was feeling this and thinking this when it occurred to me that the ease I felt when drawing Pema came from the admiration I feel for her.

I knew that hers was a portrait I would love to paint.

I began my initial sketches in the autumn and have been working on the portrait ever since. I referenced several different photos of her to create my own image. I also explored several different techniques using both acrylic and oil to create an effect which focuses on her robes being the punctum of the portrait. The flatness and smooth sheen of the acrylic on her robes and in the background contrasts wonderfully against the texture of the oils I used for her face. The text fits with the theme I've chosen for my Buddhist paintings, where I choose a Buddhist quote and write my own re-iteration of it. In this case I have explored my feelings on the student/teacher relationships in life based on the quote:

"Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense. "

- Buddha

The greatest teachers in my life have all taught me that I know the answers to all my own questions and that none of those answers are ever written in stone. Which brings me to today.

This morning I arose early, prepared my oils and brushes and set to work. I knew today was the day this painting would be complete. I always know because I get this feeling of contentment when I feel at ease with the canvas. There was very little left to do so I took my time, enjoying the earl morning quiet as I applied brush to canvas. When her face was done I set my brush to one side and pulled out my journal, which had notes I'd taken for the text. I began sketching the text out on a pad of paper, getting a feel for how the words would look.

Wanting to savour the moment I decided to go to the BP Awards page and look up all the submission details so I knew I'd have everything ready for the 2011 submission, the submission I'd been preparing myself for since this time last year. I read through the rules, satisfied myself that my painting was perfectly suitable, and clicked the online submission link. Halfway through the form I came across a tick box with a red asterisk indicating it as a required field. The text next to it read "I confirm that I have met the sitter".

I can't say that my heart sank, exactly. It was more a feeling of bemusement and mild frustration which took over. The rules had stated the portrait needed to be done from a sitting or study from life. I figured photographs counted as a study from life and I'd been covered. I didn't realise that the study from life only counted if the photograph had been taken with my own point-and-shoot.

The painting I'd been working on for months to submit to this contest could not be submitted to this contest. I wasn't quite sure how I felt and so I cried a bit, ranted a little, but ultimately I wasn't terribly upset. All my reactions felt more like what I thought I should be doing, when really I was quite calm about the whole thing. I wasn't even particularly frustrated with myself for getting it wrong. And that was when I understood Hazel's comments on competitions and galleries. When I truly appreciated what she meant when she said a competition takes away from the abilities of the artist.

It is inarguable that art is in the eye of the beholder. If art can only be defined by the artist or the person who appreciates the piece, how can we possibly judge one piece of art against another unless they are identical studies? I didn't want to start over with another portrait just for the sake of having a portrait to submit. I hadn't painted this portrait for the sake of having a portrait to submit to a contest. I'd painted the portrait because I wanted to. I knew upon starting it that I wanted to give the portrait to Pema. I painted it to strengthen my skills. I painted it to show my respect. I painted it to put my feelings down on canvas and offer them to the world to admire or hate or feel indifferent towards. I painted it because I'm an artist, and that's what I do.

I'm awarding myself the 'Portrait in oil and acrylic' award for this piece which I've titled 'Bodhisattva'. The award for having completed the painting is the opportunity to finally meet Pema Chodron as I intend to deliver it to her by hand.

Spitfire

I really do enjoy painting shoes. I don't know what it is about them but from the conception of the design to the finished project, when I'm working on a pair it's almost impossible for me to think of anything else.

In the case of this pair it was a great advantage. I only managed to purchase them on Wednesday and I figured, between all the museum visits and other plans with my parents plus my day job and preparations for Christmas, I'd not have time to start them, let alone complete them. But on Christmas Eve, once all the food was sorted and the house was tidy, I found a window of just enough time to get them painted, photographed, wrapped and under the tree!

I'm utterly chuffed with the design, which I've titled 'Spitfire'. I love that the pair of shoes I purchased just happen to be shaped like the wings of their name-sake design, making the pattern I chose to do suitable for the tongue.

One of the most satisfying pieces of art I've ever done.

..and one of the most satisfying gifts I've ever given.

Not quite finished yet...

I've been very productive this month. Finishing The Moon has really fuelled me forward and I've already started sketching out two more cards. I also dove straight into painting The Hermit and the card I'm now nearly finished:

The Tower

This card is one that makes me uncomfortable. I've only ever had it in one spread and it was confusing at the time but made perfect sense a few months later.

The Tower is about false heights. It's gaining a place by deception or building a foundation from nothing more than straw and thinking that will hold you in place. It's the moment when the foundation begins to crumble, knocking you from that tower, that place where you thought you had everything worked out. Below you however, all the materials you used were cheap, weak and inevitably going to collapse.

As I've spent a lot of time looking at this deck from a Buddhist perspective and as I began painting this oft dreaded card, I've tried to think about it differently. It could be said that it signifies a loss of ego. It's letting go of all those words or objects that we use to convince ourselves we're someone great and facing up to the fact that we're all on the same playing field.

It can also be about dismantling the walls or barriers we put up thinking we could paint every relationship, every job, every experience with the same brush.

I'm still thinking about it a lot, although the card is nearly done. I've com to realise that it's only a scary card to get because it's a far more forceful representation of the need to change. It's the change that happens when our actions are causing harm to ourselves and others. It's about waking up to the ever shifting ideas that shape us as people. Holding onto something, no matter how much it might have made sense at the time, can do more damage than good. When we are resistant to change we do nothing to slow it down. If anything, it hits us that much more full-on, forcing our hand and forcing the idea that groundlessness isn't actually such a scary place to live.

The Moon

The 18th card in the deck, The Moon represents both imagination and dreams. It can be a warning about living in a fantasy or it can be a sign of creativity.

Artists and writers usually get this card. It's about the inner workings of the mind, the other realities that we find through the power of our imagination.

It can also be very dark, almost sinister. It's a representation of escapism fueled by mind altering substances. It's the darker thoughts that weave stories and wreak havoc on our emotions.

It can also represent the end of a journey, but not one between physical locations. This can mark the completion of writing a novel or the finishing touches on a sculpture. It's the an idea come to fruition.

I chose a unicorn because, to me, The Star and The Moon cards feel like sister cards. They go hand-in-hand and I chose a dragon to represent The Star. I don't think there's anything foolish about believing in these lovely creatures and as The Moon represents a dream world and the imagination, it seemed the right fit.

I don't know exactly why I chose to have a black unicorn. A white one just didn't feel right. I'd look at my sketch and I couldn't see a white unicorn as my end result. Any other colours would be a bit too 'my little pony' and I wanted this to be intense.

I'm really utterly chuffed with the result. I'm extremely proud of my moon. I love the depth of the brick pillars on either side of the unicorn. The unicorn itself is just as I'd imagined it.

I'll be getting this card, along with The Devil and Love imaged at the end of the month. In the mean time, originals of all my paintings and prints of several of my previously completed tarot cards are available through my website.

Love

In the Tarot deck the sixth card is usually called 'The Lovers' but, halfway through painting this one, I found some history on it. Originally it was just love, which I think still suits it best. This card isn't about two people. This card is about passion. It's about a passion for life, knowing what you love and going after it. It can be love for another person, but it can also be love for a place, a career, a memory...anything. Pure, genuine, true love.

When I started painting these cards it was because I love tarot and I wanted to explore all the symbolic meanings in the cards whilst giving them my own twist. As I worked on these lovely dolphins, and reflected on how each card has suited where I currently seem to be on a personal level, it occurred to me that they all have a strong Buddhist undercurrent. As I've studied them more and more I've realised this entire project has become an exploration of parallels in different belief systems. No matter how you package it, the way to live a good life is universal.

I've come to realise that tarot cards don't tell you anything you don't already know. They just make it obvious. Buddhism is based on mindfulness, self awareness, being in the moment and accepting what is simply as it is, without conditioning it. Tarot cards don't tell us that something will or won't happen. They just show us exactly where we are. Meditation is about being exactly where we are, in the present moment.

I have eight cards left in the major arcana. I will finish them when I finish them. I will learn what they have to teach me.

water

Imagine a world where we determine whether something is doable by our experience of it alone.

If no one repeated the idea that parallel parking is difficult, I think fewer people would be stressed about that part of the test.

If no one said, "This is the hardest part and if you manage to master it, you'll be able to master anything," would we be so terrified of trying? And our attempt would probably be a lot better if we didn't have that pressure, that weight of 'this is really difficult' hanging over us.

If no one told me that painting water was difficult, would I have avoided it so intently until now?

As with anything, it takes practice, observation, an eye for shape and shadow. Experimentation is required. But most importantly, I have turn off that little voice in my head that says this is one of the hardest things to paint.

So I turned it off and amazingly enough I've discovered the same things about painting water as I did about parallel parking:

It's not difficult.

It's not hard.

It's not impossible by any means.

It's a challenge, certainly, but not something that doesn't make sense once you give it a go. I can see the folds in the liquid and the play of light and shadow from above and below. I get the depths of colour, the reflection, the pallet. I can see it all and I can see it more clearly than I ever did before. We all know water is not merely blue. But it's not just shiny and shimmering either. It goes flat in places and it curls deliciously in others. But most importantly, it can be captured on canvas. It can be captured with a pencil in the pages of a journal. It can be expressed with a wash of gouache. And, I'm pleased to say, it can be done with acrylic.

If no one told us something was hard to do, would we even know it?

Painting outdoors

I am solar powered. Like a majority of the world's population, I'm vitamin D deficient. I also love the sun. Ideally I should probably be living on a beach somewhere, basking in glorious yellow rays every day, I love being outside so very much.

But I don't know how I feel about painting outdoors. One would think it would be the perfect setting. Nothing to block the best light you can get, all the sounds of nature to inspire you and if you're really lucky, three cats frolicking, which adds to the atmosphere.

But the direct light isn't so great when you're working on a white canvas or with the bright colours I choose to use. Often the painting looks washed out to me and I have to tilt it into the shade to see it clearly. Not that painting in the shade helps much. The colours can become mottled, patterns from leaves messing with the tone. If you create your shade it might do but that pesky sun keeps making its way across the sky and if you're like me, having to adjust every half hour isn't conducive to the artistic flow. When I paint I am usually too absorbed to notice much going on around me. Especially in the glorious outdoors where I have always found a sense of serene relaxation.

The other problem that arises is when the sun illuminates the canvas from behind. Suddenly every pencil line from the original sketch is visible and on a part I thought was previously completed I might suddenly feel the need to go back over it. Of course, no one will notice these lines because it's unlikely my paintings will be lit up from behind when displayed. If anything it may be beneficial to learning how to better cover my canvas.

It is a tough one to work out but I think the ideal setting would be a studio with large french doors and one entire wall of windows. The sunlight won't be directly over head but I can still benefit from it. Better still, I won't get sunburned, as I did today.

But I'm not complaining even a little bit because The Magician is complete and I'm quite pleased with the result.

You Are Worthy of Love

The sun shone brightly today. The garden was lovely and inviting. Circumstances were such that I had no where else to be.

I brought my canvas and pallet outside, content to sit in the sun and paint.

Inspired by the quote:

"You can search throughout the entire universe for someone who is more deserving of your love and affection than you are yourself, and that person is not to be found anywhere. You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe deserve your love and affection"

- Buddha

Acrylic on canvas - 20X30"

Text Reads:

There are times when we will be most critical

we will lack compassion and caring

or feel we are unable to forgive ourselves.

We are unwilling to try because we believe

we do not deserve it.

However there is no greater strength

than that of self knowledge

the root of which is found in our

belief in and ability for

self love,

of this you are

worthy.

Where the Forest Meets the Meadow

I love 'firsts'. There's something fun about taking a step in a new direction. I often look back at these steps and see the incredible journey they took me on. Like when I first tried dabbling in acrylic or when I first used a large canvas. Recently I began using gouache, which I found to be delightful and fun.

This weekend I completed another first. My first commissioned canvas piece. I've done costumes, shoes and sculptures on commission many times before. I have a unique advantage in that I am not a procrastinator at all and when I'm doing something for someone, I accomplish it in a matter of weeks. Having a person in mind is a great motivator for me and I have done several paintings as gifts for those I love. This piece, however, was not about me creating something for myself to give to someone. This was about listening to what someone wanted, as I've done with the shoes and sculptures I've done, and creating a painting with that.

I'm so utterly pleased with this work, as I was with the completion of the Hierophant. Both works fill me with immense pride and satisfaction. This latest one, 'Where The Forest Meets the Meadow' was begun several months ago, when I took the description of what was desired. I had no intention of starting work on it until I arrived in London, as the person it's been painted for is here.

Most of January I was in a tizzy, working to settle in to my new space. I had the painting in mind though, and when my second order of canvases arrived I began to sketch it out. The first few attempts didn't really work and it wasn't until I was riding the train that I managed to get exactly what I was looking for. This was another first. I don't do sketches of my work prior to painting it. My concept and visuals are all written in my journal and sketched right on the canvas. Sketching into my journal and copying that out onto the canvas doesn't work for me...until now.

It was the roughness of the sketch, the jagged lines caused by a jerking train, that produced a solid idea of what I wanted to accomplish. So I set forth and in a matter of weeks I completed what is, to date, my best work. I'm utterly pleased with it and happy to report that the commissioner adores it as well. In fact, when presented with the work, she was rendered nearly speechless.

She has graciously allowed me to have the piece imaged and so, prints will be available shortly.

For now I invite you to follow the photo journal of the work from start to finish.

"Where the Forest Meets the Meadow" 36X24 ~Acrylic and gouache on canvas~

The original sketch from my journal. The dark scratchy lines inspired me to use gouache for part of this painting.

The background was a bit iffy for me until I did a green wash. then I was able to determine exactly how I wanted it to look. I settled on bushy leaves behind the stag, moss around the toadstools, and bushy grass around the hare.

To get the spots on the toadstools just right I cut circles out of masking tape. This worked incredibly well, as you will soon see.

A pink undercoat, to minimize the layers of red I would be required to apply. I still ended up doing three coats of red.

Picked the masking tape circles off and moved on to the butterfly. The butterfly is one of my favourite elements of this piece as I captured the details of the wing just as I'd hoped.

I used gouache to outline everything, creating the effect I was looking for. The matte finish of the gouache against the shiny finish of the acrylic give the painting a sense of movement. It's almost like a still shot from an animation or an illustration from a children's book.
I did the hare next. I wanted to capture the softness of their faces. My mum said this reminds her of watership down and in many ways this was my inspiration for the hare.

After how time intensive the toadstools, butterfly and background had been I seemed to be absolutely flying through painting the hare and the stag. I was enjoying myself so much at this point that I hardly took breaks when I was working.

Originally I wanted to have some flowers behind the hare but I decided it would be too busy. I added an extra bee. Although one could argue that doesn't reduce the busy-ness of it.

...and then it was done!