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You are here: Home / Archives for acrylic ink

Winter Paintings from the Sea

January 1, 2017 by Iskra 2 Comments

“When a young painter said he wanted to paint the moon, someone pointed out, ”But you can’t paint the moon, the moon belongs to Max Ernst.”— from Rowing Toward Eden, By Ted Morgan

New Year’s morning has dawned with sunlight and snow. The forecast is for optimism, a lovely antidote to the last months of 2016. In spite of temperatures near freezing, my mind is on the beach. I have been finishing paintings for the Museo Gallery winter show opening in January. Although the title of the show is “Beach Party,” every rowdy bash has someone who wanders off to find shells and tumbled glass and the perfect small stone to put with the other five hundred and fifty in the back yard, and that would be me. The bright colors will have to come from somebody else’s beach towel, I am just too immersed in celadon.

Glass moon bottle photograph
Photo © Iskra Johnson

For the weeks that I have been painting water and shells Max Ernst’s “Moon in a Bottle” has floated on the periphery of my mind. [Read more…]

Filed Under: Iskra Shows, Upcoming and Past, Painting Tagged With: acrylic ink, FW ink, how to paint with open acrylic, Iskra shows, Max Ernst, moonshell, museo gallery, shell painting

Painting with Water . . . . “don’t be afraid, be curious”

November 1, 2016 by Iskra 1 Comment

To paint with water is to go swimming out beyond the breakers. If you let yourself drift for a moment in the line between sky and sea,  if you let your body become long like a fin and your eyes go wide and light with clouds, if you completely let go you can be sure that in the next moment the current will shift and the waves will crash upon your fragile ribs and spin you into not knowing.

Painting with water is just one big risk of drowning.

To remain curious while going under takes a greater leap of faith than I am accustomed to. Working small however— wading — takes no courage or faith at all. It’s just a place to be, a tide pool. If you are tiny and the world is tiny and you are eye to eye with the barnacles on the edge of the deep blue shell this is simply happiness and why argue?

Here are three little Water Babies, eight by eight inches, that seem to have survived the surf. I am learning how to paint with acrylic ink, and I am mesmerized. It’s like you can make your own weather wherever you go.

Big Sur painting by Iskra
Big Sur

[Read more…]

Filed Under: Painting Tagged With: acrylic ink, acrylic painting, Big Sur, painting water, shell painting, water media, wave painting

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A metaphysical idea waiting to become a drawing. A A metaphysical idea waiting to become a drawing. All day I have been studying graphite, the most evanescent of mediums. Fragility. Once you break the egg, scatter the nest, leave the children without family on an abandoned beach, what then? 

I have spent the day drawing. In the background, which becomes foreground with one click, is the news of the rounding up of another thousand or so human beings by bounty hunters given a quota, thrown into concrete cages and disappeared because someone decided that America is no longer the home of the #huddledmasses.

The plaque on the Statue of Liberty says:

“Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Noem and Holman have not, apparently, run their hands over these words.

How do you continue making art at a time like this? You chase the metaphor. There is always a constant truth beneath the chaos.
Media studies. Addition and subtraction. Media studies. Addition and subtraction.
Somehow, between checking the news and the usual d Somehow, between checking the news and the usual distractions I managed to complete a drawing. Going back to the beginning: drawings in dust. 9.5 x 12” Charcoal powder, compressed charcoal, charcoal pencil on Moleskine. I feel peaceful for the first time in weeks.
The train tracks that go along Golden Gardens and The train tracks that go along Golden Gardens and pause briefly at the locks create a rupture in the city landscape. When the trains go by, the roar and squeal is like a thousand wild animals let out of their cage, and the ducks in the pond at the edge of the park shudder and dive under the water. A little farther north at Carkeek there is someone every year who steps in front of the train and whoever witnesses that is never the same. 

Sometimes the cargo containers are filled with coal, uncovered, and I have been part of demonstrations, which included polar bears and Orcas, objecting to that. Now, as we are being asked to casually accept nuclear reactors on every block as the price of having artificial intelligence, coal and its simple visible dust might look a little more friendly. The train brings with it economics and politics and life and death and class and all the people on the beach are just trying to have a moment in the sun. And the boaters at the marina, if they have finished polishing and descaling and mending the sails are lying back with a guitar and getting lost in the mountains. If you are willing to live right next to the train tracks, you can pay a much lower price for your home, but your dreams will change. I have lived next to the train tracks when I was very, very small and every night I woke up screaming and ran across the floor in the beams of the streetlight looking for safety. I have woken up in a train yard on a bed of cardboard and gotten on the train in the dark. Only when you do that, do you know just how hard metal is.

I’ve been drawing recently from life and this study was done from a photograph. It drove me crazy trying to see details that I couldn’t really see and feel them with the pencil. I’ve abandoned the drawing for now, but I learned a great deal about perseverance and obliteration and re-perseverance. Also how machines pretend that they are perfectly symmetrical and are not. And when you don’t draw them with perfection, they look just plain wrong so you have to make them more perfect than they are, at least when they are in perspective.
Tonight’s abandoned bird. The next one will be bet Tonight’s abandoned bird. The next one will be better. I’ve never tried to draw a Robin before. I’ve been obsessed with them since David Lynch sent them over to my childhood house, where they spent day and night getting drunk on the holly berries outside the kitchen window. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about google Laura Dern, Blue Velvet. And the Robin. It’s a hymnal to the good and the normal, done absolutely abnormally. I am learning all kinds of amazing things about how Robins build their nests. They start with mud. I did not know this. And in a drought, they will drag straw into a birdbath to get it wet and then drag the straw over a wormhole. Robins build their nests in the most unlikely places: drain spouts, highway overpasses, really bad motel parking lots. It’s kind of like how people find third place in community, even in the bleakest places. A franchise McDonald’s where people become regulars and always get the fries and just the fries because that’s all they can afford is a similar statement of naive valor: people talking to strangers and becoming known and taking shelter where they can. And if they leave a shredded napkin out there by their car, it will end up woven in with the straw and the leaves and the cigarette butts perched up there in the nest on the backside of the billboard.
Waking up. Waking up.

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