From August 15th through September 15th, use this coupon code: MARSH01 to get 15% off anything in the Rosemarsh Etsy shop
For those of you who've never attempted to sell on Etsy, or if you're one of those incomparable sellers who has never had an item sit in your store for more than four months, you may not be aware of Etsy's relisting/renewing racket. The folks over at Esty Bitch and Surviving the Etsy Madness do a better job of explaining it than I could. I also don't want to use this blog to become too outspoken on Etsy... yet; not when I'm still connecting with wonderful fellow artists and artisans, who like Jane Sloss, I'd love to feature and promote in the near future. Alienating them is the last thing I want to do.
While the relisting and renewing cost can payoff for some sellers by bumping them to the front of a search listing, I've found paintings are far too subjective to really benefit from a keyword search, at least not in the way items such as jewelry and handcrafts would. Even if you're at the top of the list for your subject matter, there's too much make-or-break in the old personal taste factor. And frankly, Etsy just isn't that great a marketplace for original artwork. I believe there are better venues out there but sadly they don't get the buyer traffic.
Rather than pay Etsy to do nothing more than it's done for me for another four months, which is collect several fees for actually managing to sell something that is not a disassembled typewriter or scarf worn by a Brooklynite who appears to be suffering from malnutrition, I'm going to pass lost profitability onto actual people.
Offering this discount gives me a chance to break just a little less than even on these paintings, prints and cards. It gives me a change to produce more, and better, work by providing me with just enough overhead and motivation to produce new stuff. Most importantly, it means my work might hang in someone's space and serve some small positive purpose, rather than sit so I can pay Etsy yet another quarterly fee for doing nothing in return.
So starting Monday, take advantage of the markdown. If you've had your eye on any Rosemarsh pieces, I thank you sincerely for your interest alone. Believe me, I know how tight money is for all of us, but that's just another reason to drop a hint, bat your eyelashes and share link with someone who owes you a nice gift. I don't think it's specified in my store policy, but at this point, I will gift wrap by request!
That's enough icky business talk for one day. To close, here are my top five art-centric Kids in the Hall sketches. Enjoy!
August 12, 2011
July 25, 2011
The Very Necessary and Precise Task of Eating Cupcakes
A good friend of mine recently had a birthday. She's always been one of those genuinely supportive friends-- the type that gives you a thumbs-up or drops you a "good luck" when the cynical, broken, husk of your former self isn't expecting it from anyone. She's promoted my stuff without me even having to ask, and she does it time and time again, past the point where I'm sick of talking about it. She's always one of the first to get behind what I'm doing, even when I suspect she's unsure sure of what it's really about, because often I'm not sure of it. So to wish her a happy birthday, I wanted to paint something original, even if humble.
You know those cupcake people. Since this is the Internet, odds are very good that you are one. Cupcake people love everything and anything that is cupcakes, every aspect of em, the process and paraphernalia. I don't even think it's about the cupcake as a food item, but rather an object in and of itself. I can't help but think there are cupcake people that might be severely diabetic, missing their tongue, teeth and both hands, also they don't own ovens, but they would still enjoy and celebrate the very existence of cupcakes.
Personally, I prefer the communal and disassembly-required cake. Maybe that's because the cake is more inline with the traditional canvas or blank scroll for the artist/writer. Maybe it's the complexity and mystery of the varying layers. Maybe, and far more likely, it's that a cake is just one thing to prepare and decorate rather than a series of small things... things that usually require some uniformity or theme among them. A cake is a single project that's often challenging yet fulfilling, and can be completed without several espresso breaks. Icing a batch of cupcakes is six to six-hundred tedious, tiny and nerve-wrecking projects. Making cupcakes requires either waking up at or stay up until 3:00 in the morning. I am not a cupcake person, but I credit them for their resilience in the face of repetition and the refilling of piping bags.
Painting a cupcake is a bit different, and I have to admit, getting the reference shots for this painting was very enjoyable. It left me with a sweet and spongy layer of fatty guilt, which is one of the best types of guilt.
I'm something of an inverted dieter, meaning what most people refer to as dieting must be a constant state for me rather than a periodic endeavor. Between that late twenties plunge of an already crap metabolism, unfortunate genetics, and the very sedentary nature of many of my hobbies and usual career circumstances, I have to be something of a calorie nazi with myself-- especially if I want to stay under a second-airline-seat or TLC-reality-series level of fatness. It's annoying and it sucks but it's the reality for me. As a result, I've gotten a pretty good handle on the calories-in vs. calories-out tedium that will keep me from ever returning to my high school weight. I know that's the reverse goal of most people but my prom dress was a size thirty-two, nine sizes larger than my current dress size.
That said, there are occasions in which the definition of indulgence gets a little blurred. Sometimes indulgence means allowing a package of pasta in the cottage or accidentally letting those extra croutons fall onto my spinach salad. Other times indulgence means... well, indulgence. Specifically, buying cupcakes and having to eat one or two, albeit systematically, for the sake of a painting.
Not wanting to travel to ritzy Huntington Village, to one of those smancy bakeries or cafes where cupcakes are the size of soup mugs, under a bulletproof showcase and sold individually for around $12.00 each, I picked the best my grocery's bakery had for sale. I have to say, in addition to paying $2.50 for the half dozen, I was glad to have some leeway for bite screw-ups. If I smudged the icing swirl on one, I had five others with which I could try, try again. I had multiple sprinkle and icing configurations to choose from, and a chance to see which icing flavor would better hold a bite mark. These cupcakes were also on the smaller side, giving some semblance of restraint and sensibility to this yummy project.
Like the "Brewing" photography session, setting the shoot was easy enough: formerly-unstained white tablecloth and a white mat board gave me a simple background. The tricky part would be keeping the cupcake in the same spot and keeping it as upright as possible as its mass and stability decreased. (While my mass increased-- ha, beat ya to the joke!)
Since I wanted to keep the icing light and give contrast to the rainbow sprinkles, my first victim was vanilla. I intended to keep the icing vanilla for the painting but eventually switched over to pink. The painted shadow on the vanilla with a white background made the flavor feel gray. I'm sure you can do some lovely things with a gray cupcake, but that's not what I'm going for with this painting.
On top of feeling guilty for simply eating the cupcakes, I have to admit the photo process started to feel a little creepy and predatory. Carefully evaluating each cupcake to select the most appealing, placing it on a precise spot on the table and peeling back the wrapper so the ruffles were just right, exposing the soft cake-- it just seemed so... wrong. I'd be capturing the slow, methodically dismemberment of this little subject, all the while experiencing a shameful enjoyment. If there's such a thing as cupcake snuff, I think this is it.
This photo shouldn't feel dirty but it sure does now... Anyways.
Even though the vanilla iced victim had more the look I was seeking, chocolate icing did a better job of holding that essential bite mark. If you've ever looked at the photos on the side of a Mr. Softee truck, you've probably noticed how critical a role the bite mark plays in the advertisement. A ice cream bar without a bite mark is just a brown rectangle with a stick jutting out. A well defined bite mark is what makes it a sweet staple of all that is summer time goodness.
This is where it started to get a little hard to maintain stability on all fronts-- from keeping the wrapper flat, to standing the cupcake upright with enough of the top and sprinkles still in view. Since I lack air conditioning at the cottage, and this being a July day, I had to work efficiently before the icing got a little droopy-- because that's what happens to delicious fat in the heat. And as we all know, delicious fat is an essential part of cupcake icing.
Back to vanilla since the icing on this single bite shot was actually better than the chocolate counterpart.
And with that last, spent piece and those few brave clinging sprinkles, the cupcake was impossible to keep upright in either shot.
And there you have the empty, stained wrapper. A metaphor for oh-so many things. Things I don't want to think about, but do and will. Boy this post got a little dark. I have the urge to go wash my hands and brush my teeth... maybe I should take a shower. Ugh.
See, she's also one of those cupcake people. |
You know those cupcake people. Since this is the Internet, odds are very good that you are one. Cupcake people love everything and anything that is cupcakes, every aspect of em, the process and paraphernalia. I don't even think it's about the cupcake as a food item, but rather an object in and of itself. I can't help but think there are cupcake people that might be severely diabetic, missing their tongue, teeth and both hands, also they don't own ovens, but they would still enjoy and celebrate the very existence of cupcakes.
Personally, I prefer the communal and disassembly-required cake. Maybe that's because the cake is more inline with the traditional canvas or blank scroll for the artist/writer. Maybe it's the complexity and mystery of the varying layers. Maybe, and far more likely, it's that a cake is just one thing to prepare and decorate rather than a series of small things... things that usually require some uniformity or theme among them. A cake is a single project that's often challenging yet fulfilling, and can be completed without several espresso breaks. Icing a batch of cupcakes is six to six-hundred tedious, tiny and nerve-wrecking projects. Making cupcakes requires either waking up at or stay up until 3:00 in the morning. I am not a cupcake person, but I credit them for their resilience in the face of repetition and the refilling of piping bags.
Painting a cupcake is a bit different, and I have to admit, getting the reference shots for this painting was very enjoyable. It left me with a sweet and spongy layer of fatty guilt, which is one of the best types of guilt.
I'm something of an inverted dieter, meaning what most people refer to as dieting must be a constant state for me rather than a periodic endeavor. Between that late twenties plunge of an already crap metabolism, unfortunate genetics, and the very sedentary nature of many of my hobbies and usual career circumstances, I have to be something of a calorie nazi with myself-- especially if I want to stay under a second-airline-seat or TLC-reality-series level of fatness. It's annoying and it sucks but it's the reality for me. As a result, I've gotten a pretty good handle on the calories-in vs. calories-out tedium that will keep me from ever returning to my high school weight. I know that's the reverse goal of most people but my prom dress was a size thirty-two, nine sizes larger than my current dress size.
That said, there are occasions in which the definition of indulgence gets a little blurred. Sometimes indulgence means allowing a package of pasta in the cottage or accidentally letting those extra croutons fall onto my spinach salad. Other times indulgence means... well, indulgence. Specifically, buying cupcakes and having to eat one or two, albeit systematically, for the sake of a painting.
The best subjects King Kullen's bakery had to offer the unemployed painter. |
Not wanting to travel to ritzy Huntington Village, to one of those smancy bakeries or cafes where cupcakes are the size of soup mugs, under a bulletproof showcase and sold individually for around $12.00 each, I picked the best my grocery's bakery had for sale. I have to say, in addition to paying $2.50 for the half dozen, I was glad to have some leeway for bite screw-ups. If I smudged the icing swirl on one, I had five others with which I could try, try again. I had multiple sprinkle and icing configurations to choose from, and a chance to see which icing flavor would better hold a bite mark. These cupcakes were also on the smaller side, giving some semblance of restraint and sensibility to this yummy project.
Like the "Brewing" photography session, setting the shoot was easy enough: formerly-unstained white tablecloth and a white mat board gave me a simple background. The tricky part would be keeping the cupcake in the same spot and keeping it as upright as possible as its mass and stability decreased. (While my mass increased-- ha, beat ya to the joke!)
Since I wanted to keep the icing light and give contrast to the rainbow sprinkles, my first victim was vanilla. I intended to keep the icing vanilla for the painting but eventually switched over to pink. The painted shadow on the vanilla with a white background made the flavor feel gray. I'm sure you can do some lovely things with a gray cupcake, but that's not what I'm going for with this painting.
On top of feeling guilty for simply eating the cupcakes, I have to admit the photo process started to feel a little creepy and predatory. Carefully evaluating each cupcake to select the most appealing, placing it on a precise spot on the table and peeling back the wrapper so the ruffles were just right, exposing the soft cake-- it just seemed so... wrong. I'd be capturing the slow, methodically dismemberment of this little subject, all the while experiencing a shameful enjoyment. If there's such a thing as cupcake snuff, I think this is it.
This photo shouldn't feel dirty but it sure does now... Anyways.
Even though the vanilla iced victim had more the look I was seeking, chocolate icing did a better job of holding that essential bite mark. If you've ever looked at the photos on the side of a Mr. Softee truck, you've probably noticed how critical a role the bite mark plays in the advertisement. A ice cream bar without a bite mark is just a brown rectangle with a stick jutting out. A well defined bite mark is what makes it a sweet staple of all that is summer time goodness.
This is where it started to get a little hard to maintain stability on all fronts-- from keeping the wrapper flat, to standing the cupcake upright with enough of the top and sprinkles still in view. Since I lack air conditioning at the cottage, and this being a July day, I had to work efficiently before the icing got a little droopy-- because that's what happens to delicious fat in the heat. And as we all know, delicious fat is an essential part of cupcake icing.
Back to vanilla since the icing on this single bite shot was actually better than the chocolate counterpart.
And with that last, spent piece and those few brave clinging sprinkles, the cupcake was impossible to keep upright in either shot.
And there you have the empty, stained wrapper. A metaphor for oh-so many things. Things I don't want to think about, but do and will. Boy this post got a little dark. I have the urge to go wash my hands and brush my teeth... maybe I should take a shower. Ugh.
Labels:
baking,
birthday,
cottage,
cupcake,
friends,
ood,
painting,
photograph,
watercolor
July 19, 2011
Chicago Artist and Fellow Etsy Seller, Jane Sloss - A Look at Her Work and Process
Just a few short weeks ago, a fellow artist and Etsy seller by the name of Jane Sloss was kind and generous enough to make me a featured artist on her blog. I'm in very good company, as Jane has featured many talented individuals. It was super exciting!
Naturally, I had to interview and feature Jane here, not only because it's the least I could do to show my appreciation, but because I am genuinely interested in her work and her process. The more I've examined my own stuff over the thus brief life of this blog, the more I've become curious about other painters and craftsfolk. And while I probably seem a little too good at blogging about my own crap, it was way more interesting to hear from someone more established with such a unique source of inspiration.
So here's a closer look at Jane's inspiration, process, a few lovely pieces... and her feelings on beets:
Jane, according to your blog, you’re not a fan of beets. Is it a taste or a texture thing? For example, would you be okay with beet-flavored pasta, as in veggie rotini? Also, please tell us about yourself.
I’ve tried to love Beets. For two summers I had a great CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) share through a farm called Growing Home. I loved supporting local agriculture, but struggled to love beets (which we got a lot of). I guess it’s the flavor to which I object. I did find one recipe I really liked: Cold Beet Soup with a scoop of basil lime sorbet. About me, I’m Chicago-based watercolor painter and architect. My adventures in painting and architecture have taken me all over the country. Prior to Chicago, I spent a year living in a town of 2,000 people in West Alabama and designing a prototype for rural, affordable housing. I appreciate the pure pleasure and meditative qualities of painting, as well as the opportunity it offers to chart our course through life, our interests, our evolving abilities.
Your architectural interest really comes across in your work. Are there specific structural or perspective elements you seek out when creating a painting? It is just a matter of what catches your eye at a particular moment in time? In other words, do you chase after your work or does it find you?
Do you work from life, photographs, notebook sketches? Do you listen to music or make sure to have a cup of coffee nearby? Can you briefly take us through your process, painter’s ritual, or any quirks that take you from a blank canvas to a finished painting?
I love working from life, particularly painting outside. I learned to paint during a year spent studying Rome, as an architecture student. During that year, I spent many hours sketching and painting in the piazze of Rome and other Italian cities and towns—there is nothing quite the same as sitting in the sun, painting a beautiful duomo or palazzo. Living in Chicago, though, there are many months when painting outside is impossible. Last November, I reconfigured my studio space a bit. I think it is important to create a warm, inviting space in which to work. I definitely love to sit down with a cup of coffee early in the morning or sometimes a glass of red wine after dinner and dive into a painting project. I tend to listen to podcasts a lot when I paint, perennially This American Life and recently a podcast called WTF.
The way you use a muted color pallet makes your work very recognizable and distinct. After viewing the paintings in your shop, I’m sure I could pick out a Jane Sloss from across a room. Has this always been a conscious style choice? Was it something that evolved over time?
In addition to sketching and painting in Rome, I learned to paint in the Beaux-Arts style as an architecture student. This meant painting large sheets (24”x30”) to render my architectural designs. The work tended to involve meticulous depiction of the building components and many layers of watercolor washes. A muted pallet seemed appropriate in creating these renderings. As my painting style evolved, I think I continued to be drawn to what felt like the somewhat ethereal aesthetic of delicate watercolor washes.
I commend you on the texture and feel of your urban pieces—all those bricks and windows rendered with such truth. Do you find these repetitive elements an enjoyable or relaxing part of painting or a bit of an undertaking?
I don’t mind painting hundreds or thousands of bricks as necessary to complete a painting. I do find that it meditative. It’s easy to get lost in thought or perhaps to allow the repetitive motion to quiet my mind a bit.
As someone who has never been to Chicago, it’s enjoyable to visit it through your eyes. Can you tell us more about your relationship with this city? What makes it such a prominent subject for you? |
And last but not least, do you have any advice or seeds of artistic wisdom you’d like to impart to any readers out there?
My only advice would be that if you want painting or another art form to be a part of your life, pursue it with intention. About four years ago, I decided that I wanted watercolor painting to be a bigger part of my life and have found that unexpected opportunities may come if you develop your art through regular practice and intentionality.
Many thanks to Jane for sharing her wonderful artwork and for her thoughtful answers to my questions!
Make sure to view Jane's watercolor paintings and handmade wedding invitations and accessories storefronts on Etsy. You can commission a custom piece.
If you or someone you know has a wedding in the works, check out some of her hand-painted invites and maps.
Don't forget to visit her blog: A Good Day's Work: Jane Sloss | Watercolor paintings and get the latest on her awesome, twenty-four piece Western Avenue Series. The series is nearing the halfway mark and in expected to exhibit in 2012.
You can also stay updated on Jane's work by joining her official Facebook page. Drop her a post, or better yet, own some of her great work!
Labels:
architecture,
Beaux-Arts,
beets,
Chicago,
Etsy,
Jane Sloss,
painting,
watercolor,
Winslow Homer,
winter
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