Saturday, March 15, 2014
Sunday, March 9, 2014
recent talking points
It's a crazy time. In the middle of it all -- work, homelife, kid's activities, relationship struggles -- I continue to work on my crow piece and to consider its meaning. It is looking beautiful -- though still lots of work to do, because the vast part of it is hand-sewn. When I'm not stitching, I am 1) Getting upgraded bifocals to make the stitching easier (old lady), and 2) thinking about other birds who are "in relationship" with crows.
copyright Jennifer Schultz 2014
The Snowy Owl, for example. Who will dive at solitary crows at dusk and can successfully kill and eat a crow. Not yet sure what I will do with the graphic above, though I'm thinking of playing with it more on Spoonflower.
In other news I was accepted for publication in the online magazine ArtAscent, in February. And I have a small commission to finish, as well as a private workshop to teach, "Fiber Arts Playdate," towards the end of March. (Artist/moms, birthday cake, art, wine. Sounds pretty good eh?)
I also need to curate a couple shows for work. Sigh.
Thank God I get to make my own art. I'd lose my mind without it.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Sunday, January 5, 2014
thinking about crows
I have capped a fairly long stretch of holiday downtime by catching a bad cold. Consequently, there have been hours and hours spent at home, passing to and fro before the picture window, sometimes sitting down on the couch with a sigh to stare up through the glass. Snow. Bare branches. Little houses with thick white frosting on the roofs, steam issuing from chimney-tops. And crows, lots of crows.
We live one block from the purportedly highest point in the city of Minneapolis, a park called Demming Heights. It is thickly wooded with oaks and maples, and provides a wide vista view to the west, over the rail yard and the parkway, down to the Mississippi river. The block between us and the park is a steep hill to our south. Since there's another hill behind us, to the east, our cell phone reception stinks. But we see lots of urban-adapted wildlife around here -- foxes, raccoon, turkeys, etc -- and of course, the crows. The local flock roosts at night in the trees of Demming Heights, hundreds of them. They swirl through the air, calling loudly, swooping down in small groups to peck at the roadway and poke through the snowbanks. They undoubtedly know where all the local compost pits, bird feeders and restaurant dumpsters are located, omnivores that they are. Not to mention squirrel carcasses, and the fast-food litter that accumulates near parked cars.
Eight, ten, twelve birds appear to play tag from tree to tree, jeering at each other; another half dozen join them, and a few more, and so on, until they decide to forage in the street and so come down to earth, sharply contrasting against the white of the world. And I've become curious about them, finally, rather than distantly annoyed. They're like someone else's noisy kids, running through yards and raising heck.
We live one block from the purportedly highest point in the city of Minneapolis, a park called Demming Heights. It is thickly wooded with oaks and maples, and provides a wide vista view to the west, over the rail yard and the parkway, down to the Mississippi river. The block between us and the park is a steep hill to our south. Since there's another hill behind us, to the east, our cell phone reception stinks. But we see lots of urban-adapted wildlife around here -- foxes, raccoon, turkeys, etc -- and of course, the crows. The local flock roosts at night in the trees of Demming Heights, hundreds of them. They swirl through the air, calling loudly, swooping down in small groups to peck at the roadway and poke through the snowbanks. They undoubtedly know where all the local compost pits, bird feeders and restaurant dumpsters are located, omnivores that they are. Not to mention squirrel carcasses, and the fast-food litter that accumulates near parked cars.
Eight, ten, twelve birds appear to play tag from tree to tree, jeering at each other; another half dozen join them, and a few more, and so on, until they decide to forage in the street and so come down to earth, sharply contrasting against the white of the world. And I've become curious about them, finally, rather than distantly annoyed. They're like someone else's noisy kids, running through yards and raising heck.
My first attempt to draw one looked too seagull-ish. So I took out the bird books and did some careful looking. My second attempt (painted with Tsukineko inks, above) still looked a bit too friendly. According to Junebug the cat, also seen above.
My second attempt wasn't an American Crow at all, which is what we see around here. Instead I painted the Fish Crow, a slightly smaller version, and a bird I've ticked down in south Georgia.
Grabbed this collage off the interwebs. This is what grows on all the neighborhood trees, now it's January.
And this is the American Crow, the dude in question. Cornell University is the website to visit when looking for comprehensive information on bird habits, and their page on crows does not disappoint. Everything you didn't know you should know. I tried to paint the feathers of just the wing, and gave it up as a bad job after several hours -- I'll try again later, but there's so much light in there. My ink was much too opaque.
Is this crow fascination going anywhere? Or is it just a break from sewing? We'll see!
Friday, December 27, 2013
Going to Seed
Finally finished! Copyright protected, no Pinterest or reposting please.
"Going to Seed"
16.625 x 22 inches
Jennifer A. Schultz, 2013
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Well.
Without getting into it, the studio I thought I was moving into on the 1st has gone to someone else. I suspect, ironically, coincidentally, it's someone I met the night before I got the news. (And spent $85 with on a scarf she made.) I guess they wanted someone less fine-art and more wearables.
So, humorously enough, I've spent the last two weeks working on costumes for the Christmas Pageant at our church. No high couture, but a pretty good bit of improvisation -- 11 costumes, for kids aged kindergarten through 4th grade. No patterns, no shopping, just used stuff from the stash. Visit my facebook if you simply must see what I did. But, I am kinda proud.
Two different artists I know and respect said, about the studio, "Things happen for a reason. New opportunities are on their way." And I'll choose to believe it.
I need to finish stitching the backing on "Going to Seed", and then can start something new if I want -- I'll finish cleaning the sewing room first (organza and cotton sheeting and glittery trims everywhere) -- I have a few notions percolating, including a celebration of "winter whites!"
Without getting into it, the studio I thought I was moving into on the 1st has gone to someone else. I suspect, ironically, coincidentally, it's someone I met the night before I got the news. (And spent $85 with on a scarf she made.) I guess they wanted someone less fine-art and more wearables.
So, humorously enough, I've spent the last two weeks working on costumes for the Christmas Pageant at our church. No high couture, but a pretty good bit of improvisation -- 11 costumes, for kids aged kindergarten through 4th grade. No patterns, no shopping, just used stuff from the stash. Visit my facebook if you simply must see what I did. But, I am kinda proud.
Two different artists I know and respect said, about the studio, "Things happen for a reason. New opportunities are on their way." And I'll choose to believe it.
I need to finish stitching the backing on "Going to Seed", and then can start something new if I want -- I'll finish cleaning the sewing room first (organza and cotton sheeting and glittery trims everywhere) -- I have a few notions percolating, including a celebration of "winter whites!"
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