Iskra Fine Art

  • Prints
    • The Tarmac Residency: Airport Landscapes
    • Ink Painting Abstractions
    • Immersions | At The Shore
    • ColorBath: Images of the Harbor
    • The Floating World
    • Industrial Strength | Urban Industrial Landscape
    • The Scaffold
    • Industrial Pastorale: The Rural/Urban Landscape
    • Botanical Prints | The Natural World
    • Construction | Reconstruction : Urban Landscape
    • Infrastructure
  • Drawings
    • Pencil Drawings: Pandemic Pause
    • Drawings in Dust 1
    • Signs & Symbols (Archive)
    • Botanical Drawings (Archive)
  • Photography
    • Seattle Waterfront Park Photography
    • Architectural Photography | Construction Sites
    • American West Landscape Photography
  • Mixed Media
    • Modern Botanical | Mixed Media on Plaster
    • From the Sea | Water Paintings
    • Sleep Studies
  • Journals
    • Wayfinding Journal (Archive)
  • Shop
  • About
    • Contact
  • Blog
You are here: Home / Recent Posts / New Art from The Garden, or, How I Learned to Get Over Myself and Love Flowers

New Art from The Garden, or, How I Learned to Get Over Myself and Love Flowers

August 29, 2016 by Iskra 3 Comments

What kind of fool plants flowers in late July, when the temperature is scalding and the dirt has become so dry it has closed like a fist and refuses even the longest kiss of the sprinkler? That would be someone who comes late to the love affair of flowers, someone who held out until the last minute against their invitation. That person would have said, “I hate orange and pink together.” “Flowers are banal.” “Flowers are so obvious, and they have no bones in winter. I’m a winter person.” And lastly, “Flowers will break your heart.”

This is very true. Just now I have been standing in the pungent dust with my garden hose wondering how many more times I will have to water the ailing flock of pink cosmos and orange rudbeckia until they stop falling over. I have snapped off countless dry husks from the daisies as I embrace the ruthless ritual of “dead-heading.” I have wept at the delicate hydrangea that refuses to thrive no matter how much shade and water and worry I offer. Yet every time I open the front door my heart is flustered all over again by the canna, the petunia and the dazzling blue lobelia. True: your heart breaks, again and again, but that doesn’t seem to matter once you fall into this kind of love.

 

cannalilly-garden

Artist's garden Iskra Fine Art

My birthday comes in September, and as I have gotten older I do not look forward to the month with happiness. Rather, around mid-July, I start to feel the elegies coming on, and brood upon the tipping of life. Which little acre of my body has changed this year, and can’t be moisturized and vitamized back to its former glory? Why does each summer seem shorter and each Autumn gets here before I put away last Winter’s clothes? As I sort through family histories, which life-span will be mine?

When I was in my 20’s and 30’s I was so generally rude, and sure of the order of things. Flowers, for instance, were for “old people:” the grandmothers. I had several of them, although few were blood relations. In the modern way of things they were the mothers of step-fathers and step-mothers and not much invested in the earlier progeny that came before their ‘real’ grand children. I kept my distance, and the pretense that they also were ‘unreal.’ What surprises me is that though they have been gone for decades, the grandmothers are more with me now than when they were alive. If I believed in heaven I would say they dusted me with pollen from somewhere up in the clouds. How else can I explain swooning over roses? Or filling my back garden with fuchsias, when for years I spoke condescendingly of “those gaudy tasteless screaming things” my country grandmother kept in hanging planters. I thought of the word “fuchsia” as too much lipstick. Now I live for the flash of the Anna’s hummingbird, which can’t resist those hopelessly garish purples and reds.

Lately I have been thinking a lot of my city grandmother, whose name was Grace. I think she was born old, with a hairnet and nylon stockings rolled up to the knee, and faded flour-sack dresses and glasses with a line across the middle. She was, in fact, about my age now when I met her. (Pause, to think about that. Take off my glasses, and experience gratitude that the horizontal line doesn’t show. . . .). Grace was known as “the flower lady of Greenlake,” and on her double lot she grew a riot of dahlias, chrysanthemums, roses and gladiolas, while providing a summer-long harvest of berries for pies from a tangled arbor in the back. When we visited on Sundays we returned home with arms full of flowers and a week’s supply of cinnamon rolls, cookies and jam. On the Fourth of July we would walk from her house to the lake to watch fireworks, and in my mind the chrysanthemums and fireworks blend into one bright sun rising up and exploding into the sky.

Grace wasn’t vain. In the life she led before we met she came west in a covered wagon, she taught in a one-room school-house, and she worked on her feet for thirty years selling clothes at a department store. And then, when she retired, instead of brooding on having been born before the 1900’s began, or fretting over the latest crease in her face and spending her hard-earned retirement on anti-wrinkle cures, she looked out at her garden. She planted and weeded and harvested like the pioneer stock she came from. She didn’t try to “design” a garden using textures and color families of different greens. She just put stuff in the ground and it came up miracles.

I don’t know if Grace would laugh at me, with my fancy cultivars of hellebores and ‘heirloom this and that.’ She would definitely laugh at the zucchini that won’t fruit. But I think she would admire the (volunteer!) scarlet runner bean that has nearly climbed over the roof of the house, and she would have some special and equally ordinary way of making a carrot grow longer than an inch. If I squint I can see her here, kneeling at the edge of the beds in one of those dresses covered with the faded bouquets of pansies and the cotton so soft it must have been washed a thousand times. We would have nothing to talk about but flowers, and that would be just fine.

A new botanical piece has been coming together in my mind for awhile, and I think it is dedicated to Grace. The drought has punished much of the garden this year, but the heat has blessed the magnolias. They have always been fussy, filling the long hot summer days with the sound of cast off leaves and scenting the air with guilt (is it something I did? More water? Less? More Mozart?) This year the magnolias have bloomed in a profusion of luminous tiaras, each one unfolding at breath-taking speed. I have been photographing them since June, in all their stages from bud to full reign to the fragile papery origami the color of tea.

Iskra Fine Art magnolia print
Magnolia ‘Grace,’ limited edition print © Iskra Fine Art

This print and many others can be found on my new shop, launched this month. You may view my available work on Etsy or through the direct shop link here on my site. I am very excited to become part of the Etsy community. The new interface is spacious and well designed, and offers a lovely platform for artists to present their work. At my shop you will find a range of work inspired by both the garden and architectural themes, at a wide range of prices depending on the size of edition and the print. In the future I may also offer paintings as that work develops.

Upcoming Events and Shows

This coming First Thursday I will have work at Galvanize, as part of the opening in drizl‘s new physical gallery space. Galvanize is a stunning new co-working, learning and meeting space in Pioneer Square at 111 S Jackson Street, Seattle, 98104.

Save the date (and register early, this will be popular!) for a panel discussion on Tech and the Democratization of Art, hosted by Crosscut Arts Salon at Galvanize. I will be part of the discussion, which should be lively, details coming soon.

_________________________________________________________

A note to subscribers: I have recently consolidated my newsletter mailing lists and blog subscriber list under Mailchimp. As a result some people maybe getting the newsletter twice. Or you may have thought you signed up only for show notices and are now receiving blog posts as well. Please do take advantage of the subscriber preferences form and update your preferences so your inbox has only as much from me as you wish.

Filed Under: Prints, Recent Posts, The Garden Tagged With: artist's garden, botanical prints, flower gardening in the northwest, iskra shows in September, magnolia, mixed media art

Comments

  1. Anne Davenport says

    August 29, 2016 at 8:57 am

    Gardens as both the context and the subject of art-making. Of course! I’m a weaver, surrounded by a wonderful garden; I know the territory. Thank you for this evocative essay.

    Reply
  2. Iskra says

    August 29, 2016 at 9:06 am

    Thank you so much Anne! Yes, sometimes it all weaves together.

    Reply
  3. J.I. Kleinberg says

    September 1, 2016 at 9:57 am

    Gorgeous writing and images, Iskra.

    Reply

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Join Iskra’s Mailing List

Don't miss a thing! Subscribe to receive show announcements, first peek at new work and my semi-monthly blog by email. I primarily use the blog for news and updates but by signing up you will also receive the occasional newsletter and special offers for items in my shop.

Iskra Fine Art Blog

the creative process | conversations with artists | the contemplative impulse in art

Instagram

I’ve written a wild-mind sort of blog post in wh I’ve written a wild-mind sort of blog post in which I let the story of place, museums, witness and culture unfold as it wishes. It’s an old-style post before I had “newsletter consciousness.” (Sigh….when you send out a post with one image and a show announcement and maybe five more words and someone writes, “perfect length to view on my phone” you may be tempted to perform more of the same and forget the original muse, born long before success was judged by how well thoughts fit within 2x5” square inches. A few excerpts here and first link in bio to read the entirety. Witness and elegy is where I seem to live. Painting is acrylic ink on panel, a piece I have yet to resolve but like to see into for the next step.
If you are born on 9.11 take back this day. It’s If you are born on 9.11 take back this day. It’s still yours! Yesterday I started early and went to an island in the middle of the blue sea to be in beauty and celebrate life. As we walked the beach we met a young boy also born on 9.11. His parents had brought him to Vashon for the same reason, and he had found a perfect moon shell for his own birthday present sent from the sea. It was such a lovely moment, to remember the world is young no matter how old we are.
Taking the last golden days of summer for study. T Taking the last golden days of summer for study. The Volunteer Park museum has an exhibit showing the influence of the Edo arts in Japan on Toulouse-Lautrec and I went to see it last weekend. As you can see from these images, I seem to have no interest in Lautrec— True! But these details of woodcuts and paintings on silk fill me with a quiet rapture.
Walking Meditation Walking Meditation
RIP Brian McBride, The Stars of the Lid RIP Brian McBride, The Stars of the Lid
Sunday Morning Meditation: River and woods, stone Sunday Morning Meditation: River and woods, stone and light.

Featured Posts

  • How to Purchase Artwork from Iskra Fine Art
  • About This Blog
  • New Directions in Contemplative Art: Conversations with Artists
  • What is a Transfer Print? (Artist Statement)

Categories

  • Abstract Calligraphy
  • Airport Landscapes
  • Architecture & Sense of Place
  • Art Reviews
  • Art Sales
  • Artist Studio Visits
    • The Mystic Muse: Artists Working in the Contemplative Traditions
  • botanical art
  • Botanical Art Cards
  • Collage
  • Construction/Reconstruction
  • Digital Collage
  • Drawing
  • Essays
  • Featured Post
  • Iskra Shows, Upcoming and Past
  • Iskra Sketchbooks & Journals
  • Iskra Writing on Medium
  • Living With Art
  • Meditation & Buddhism
  • Mixed Media
  • Music
  • Object Lessons: Essays and images inspired by "A History of the World in 100 Objects."
  • Painting
  • Photocollage
  • Photography
    • American West Landscape Photography
  • Poems
  • Print Sale
  • Prints
  • Recent Posts
  • Road Trips
  • Social Media for Artists
  • The 100 Day Projects
  • The Alaska Way Viaduct
  • The Garden
  • The Gardener's Almanac of Irreproducible Phenomena
  • The Spiritual in Art
  • The Street
  • the Tarmac Residency
  • The Water Tower Project
  • Transfer Prints
  • Travel
  • Uncategorized
  • Watercolors

Archives

Search

Connect on Facebook

Iskra Fine Art Facebook Page

Creative Inspiration

  • Alternative Photography
  • An Artist's Retreat
  • Anonymous Chinese Textile Genius: Moo Won
  • Chocolate Is A Verb
  • Contemplative Art Process: Danila Rumold
  • Eva Isaksen
  • Old Industrial Japan
  • The Altered Page
  • The Heart Sutra Loop
  • The Patra Passage

Galleries for Contemplative Art

  • ArtXchange Gallery
  • Seattle Asian Art Museum

Links

  • CollageArt.org
  • Iskra at SAM Gallery
  • Iskra Fine Art on Houzz
  • Seattle Art Museum Blog
  • Seattle Artist League
  • Seattle Print Arts
  • Seeing Fresh: Contemplative Photography
  • The Painter's Keys

What I'm Reading: Online Magazines and Books I Love

  • 16 mi.
  • Essays by David Whyte
  • Evening Will Come: Poetry
  • Hyperallergic
  • Painter's Table
  • Shu: Reinventing Books in Contemporary Chinese Art
  • Streetsy
  • The Original Van Gogh's Ear Anthology
  • Tricycle Magazine
  • Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty
  • Vanguard

Let’s Connect

  • Contact Iskra
  • How to purchase artwork
  • Iskra Fine Art Blog : The creative process, conversations with artists, the contemplative impulse in art

Join Iskra’s Mailing List

Don't miss a thing! Subscribe to receive show announcements, first peek at new work and my semi-monthly blog by email. I primarily use the blog for news and updates but by signing up you will also receive the occasional newsletter and special offers for items in my shop.

  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • Twitter

All Images Copyright © 2023  Iskra Johnson · Site by LND · WordPress