Calligraphy on "Blown" Eggs

There is no limit to what calligraphy can adorn!  With a simple carton of eggs and Sharpie's new brush marker, I now have Easter words like "Hosanna", "forgiven", and "remember me" sitting in the middle of our table.  Thanks to my kids' love for all things slimy, all I had to ask was "who wants to blow out egg guts?" In no time at all I had four dozen beautiful, feather light, perfect mini canvases to work on. This was an easy, inexpensive, handmade family project that makes a great gift for grandparents and friends.  And it's a simple, "write it on your doorposts" (Deuteronomy 6:9)  attempt to keep the truth of God's grace in front of my children during the week leading up to Easter.

My daughter was all over this.

I used distilled white vinegar and food coloring for the dye. Left them in for only a second or two because I wanted a "fresh from the chicken" look. 

I imagine my Zig or Pentel brush markers would have worked just as well, but I wanted to try out the new Sharpie brush marker.  Worked great. 

Have a beautiful weekend with your friends and family.  May the miracle and blessed reassurance of Easter fill your hearts and bring you peace as you celebrate.  

Studio is Completed!

At the end of the day, this post is more about my husband than my studio.  Because it's about how couples prioritize and what that says about what they value.  When you own an older home, you have to do a lot of prioritizing.  You ask yourself and each other, what should/can we repair or replace or add first?  I imagine most couples would begin by addressing the single bathroom upstairs that is currently serving our family of five. Or the fact that our detached garage is posing as our basement while our cars sit in the driveway. Or maybe some couples would prioritize a vacation to escape the never ending projects that come with owning an older home.  My husband prioritized studio space.  I don't know if he'll ever fully understand the love letter he wrote with that decision.  He was telling me something about what he values and that something is me.  Thank you, my love.  I heard you.

There was no room inside the farmhouse for a studio so we had to look outside.
Our detached saltbox garage had attic space above it that was perfect.

BEFORE

A pull-down hatch entry was the only way in.  

New framed-in stairway replaces hatch entry.

AFTER

Insulated and finished walls and ceiling.  New skylights bring in natural light. 

Benjamin Moore Cloud White covers walls, trim, and ceiling.

Wrapped beams, added track lights the length of the room,
and installed laminate floor to make paint cleanup easier.

Built rolling table for flat files so it can double as a work counter
and be pushed out of way when not in use.

Perfect.

My Family's Route 2 Rural

It was a slightly different summer than I had planned, and my art took a back seat, appropriately.  My supplies are still in boxes, but they are no longer in a storage pod in Indiana, they are in a temporary storage room in OUR NEW HOME!  After struggling to find a home and living in a rental property for 3 months, we moved into a home of our own 8 weeks ago.  Even though my studio boxes are with me, there's no space for me to unload them quite yet.  You all know how strongly I feel about carving out a creative space in which to work, so a new space will be carved.  In an attic.  Above a detached garage.  Away from the house.  I am so excited!!  Below is a picture of the current unfinished space.  We have a million other projects that trump this one, but I can feel it, I'm getting closer.  Won't this be an amazing place to work?!

Attic space above garage -- home of my new studio!

I set up a separate blog to document our family's journey, because I really wanted to keep this an artist blog.  But I thought I should mention it to you here, and provide a link, because many of you have responded as much to my heart as my art, and there's a lot of that over there.  Also, you artists all know that a special house can be its own canvas.  God chose something for me that is way out of my comfort zone and is going to be the biggest artistic challenge yet -- a 1795 historic farmhouse.  If you want to see it, head over to www.route2rural.blogspot.com.  I just posted pictures yesterday.

I'll keep you posted on my studio space and let you know when that first box gets cracked open.  Hopefully I'll still know how to letter!  Haven't touched a nib since December.  Wow.

Parking Lot Angel

Written Jan. 13, 2011

Lettered with simple scribe's tools found in purse, a Uniball pen and 2HB pencil. 

There are angels among us.

Today I was walking to my car in the Lowe's parking lot, juggling two gallons of paint, rollers and stir sticks, a purse that was much bigger than it needed to be, and a styrofoam cup of coffee that was much smaller than it needed to be.  A kind, older gentleman saw me struggling and offered his assistance.  As he walked away I wished him a wonderful day.  He simply said, "It's one of a kind, isn't it?"  I turned around and stared at him.  Could it be?  An angel sent to me -- placed in my path to wake me up to this day?  His words were so simple, so profound, so necessary they could have only come from one place.  I have been running too fast, allowing fear to control my priorities and uncertainty to order my day. I have forgotten to make room for joy.  It's easy to do that, isn't it?  To get sucked into a certain type of day, week, month that if it was your last you would weep at all the loss.  My parking lot angel spoke so loud to me today he could have been screaming.

We are moving to New York.  I haven't had time to blog, to create, to sing, to read to my children.  Soon I will be driving away from everything that is safe and familiar.  I have to admit that as we prepare our house for sale and pack up memories that came from this special place, I am not making room for joy.  I am only making room for fear.  My days are all about holding on to any shred of peace I can find.  And because of all that holding on, I'm not finding any.  I have completely forgotten how to live and love this day in my frantic pursuit of creating a perfect "tomorrow" for my family.  But this day is one-of-a-kind, my parking lot angel reminded me.  One-of-a-kind.  Unique.  Pertaining to a singular example.  Never to be repeated.  And certainly not to be wished away.

I hesitated to get in my car in case he had more words for me.  My angel had stopped and was looking in amazement at a souped-up truck parked next to my minivan.  Chuckling, he pointed to the truck and repeated, "It's one of kind, isn't it?"

Though my parking lot angel ended up being just a man who appreciates a nice truck, my God remains a God who speaks to me in unexpected ways when I need it most.

Play for Me Kokopelli

©2009 Shannon M. Wilson, "Play for Me."
Acrylic and gouache on pasted paper, 12" x 18"

Though I created this a long time ago, I remember lettering it like it was yesterday.  It was the first time I had attempted layered and circular text on one of my first paste paper backgrounds.  I remember studying pictures of sweet Kokopelli and his feather-laden hair and trying to reflect the spirit of the southwest in the colors and textures.  It was a gift for my mother on the occasion of her 65th birthday.  (To say her  home decor has a southwestern flare is an understatement.)  

It wasn't the art that made her cry, it was the words that accompanied it -- a beautifully presented little speech by my oldest son comparing her to Kokopelli, the mythical flute-playing character that can be found all over her house.  As the kids and I studied the history of this figure that is sacred to many Native Americans, we had to laugh at the similarities between the two of them -- mischievous, whimsical, joyful, charitable, musical, bringer of joy.


We learned that according to some legends Kokopelli was a wanderer who carried songs on his back.  Representing everything pure and spiritual about music, he brought good luck and fortune to anyone who listened.  His flute was said to symbolize happiness and joy.  When he played the sun came out, the snow melted, grass began to grow, birds began to sing, and all the animals gathered round to hear his songs.

You can see the same reaction in the children, grandchildren and students that sit at my mother's feet as she "sings" her love for them through her teaching, her stories, and her infectious energy.  She believes in the potential of each child and student so fiercely that they end up believing it too, and that's when the magic happens.  Their special gifts (that were always there) start pouring out and lives are changed.   Whatever the true meaning of Kokopelli, our family knows him as an endless source of joy -- just like my mother.


I'm sharing this piece here, now, because our recent move to New York took her daughter and grandchildren away from her. I wanted her to know, again, how much she's loved and missed and thought of.  I know she is asking herself, "What now?," with her grandchildren far from home.  I want her to remember that it is all children she influences and there are hundreds near her wherever she is and wherever we are.  She has only scratched the surface on what she has left to give.  I love you, Mom.  Hang in there.

Change is Here

Lake Michigan one last time before the move.
We can do this.  Together.

Hello, my dear friends.  I have missed you and this blog more than you know. Before I jump right back in, though, I feel like I owe you an explanation.  Change hasn't just crept in since my last post, it has knocked me over.  That beauty I was longing for in my October post?  I'm sitting in the middle it of it, but it was preceded by a whole lot o' ugly.  (Sounds a little like my faith journey, now that I think about it.)  I couldn't fill you in as it was unfolding, because many of the steps called for and still call for discretion, but here is what I can say.

Incredible tension and pain has been a big part of our family's life because of impossible professional relationships with family members.  Things finally came to a head, our choices got fewer, and we had to make a difficult decision. That decision took us far away from the people we love.  In the last 6 months my husband and I and our three young children have survived the termination of a partnership, a heart-wrenching resignation, a season of unemployment, a job search, a home sale, and a cross-country move away from family and dear friends.   In retrospect, I wish I would have blogged throughout, but I was too overwhelmed and probably a little afraid to admit what I was feeling.  My faith can be so weak when I'm being called to trust in an outcome I can't see. I will post something from January, though, that I wrote in the thick of it because it's a message I want to remember, and is one that might resonate with some of you.

I have very few of my art supplies here with me, because we are in a rental house and all my belongings are in a storage shed states away.  My medium may have to be photography and words until we are settled in a house of our own, so this blog will be taking a slight detour for the next few months.  Thank you for sticking with me, though, and for your emails of support during my absence.  I have truly missed you all and can't wait to work creatively alongside and amongst you again.

Everybody Needs Beauty

©2010 Shannon M. Wilson
Pointed pen with Sumi ink and watercolor
pencil on Arches text. 

I've been reading a lot of John Muir lately... and Thoreau...and the poetry of mystics who find God in a raindrop. They know something about simplicity and the way wind breathes over you like a mantra when you stop running.  Whenever I pick up my nibs to practice lettering, I always come back to these kinds of writers and thinkers.  I have such a longing for the kind of peace they speak of -- peace that can be found in nature, in being truly present, or in the prayerful openness of meditation. I'm getting closer.  Not only have I stopped running, but I'm dead in my tracks looking over my shoulder for a new path. A lot of things led me here, from overwhelming busyness to unspoken fears that this was all there was. But the biggest catalysts were two books, "Simple Abundance," and "Captivating" that kept finding their way to my bedside table for a third, fourth, fifth reading. Through language that both called and convicted, the authors have helped spark the wild soul and beauty seeker in me and I have a new lens through which I see everything -- things that are and things that could be.  

The Mountains are Calling

I have some great friends who recently fulfilled a lifelong dream to own property in Colorado.  There are so many things I love about that statement.  I love that this amazing couple shared a dream together.  I love that they planned for it and sacrificed for it and waited for it.  I love that when the opportunity presented itself, they didn't let fear stop them from jumping in.  This huge decision has the potential to change their next season together in thrilling, challenging, and beautiful ways. And I imagine when they stand in that new space for the first time as owners, the air is going to be charged with quiet recognition of all they've shared that has led them to that moment.  (They might also whisper, "What have we done?", but I know they're going to be grinning when they say it.)

[Artwork -- I created the piece above for them as a tiny housewarming gift.  I used a photo of the Colorado Rockies that I altered in Photoshop with a watercolor artistic filter and torn edge effect.  I printed it on Arches Text and then lettered over it in Sumi and gouache.  The line below the art is their new address, but I've blurred it to respect their privacy.]

Whispers in the Wind

My dear, aging husband (sorry, Drew) refused a party for his 40th birthday, so we sent out whispers in the wind with a little art installation in our front yard.  The kids and I each took a handful of blank cards and hand-lettered words and thoughts about the man we treasure before laminating (rain was coming) and attaching them with twine to the ends of lower branches.  Do you hear the whispers, Drew?  This glorious story you're living is getting richer every moment as time and experiences shape you, open you, soften you.  God has begun a good work in you and your family is watching and celebrating its unfolding...  Happy birthday, my love.

I had seen and catalogued this idea years ago from the website of a gifted book artist, naturalist, and teacher,  Susan Kapuscinski Gaylord.  She wrote that she was inspired by the image below of a Japanese folding screen by 17th century Japanese artist Tosa Mitsuoki.  I am so thrilled with how our "birthday installation" turned out I have already begun thinking about a similar project for the young writers in my children's elementary school next Spring.  I'll let you know how that goes!  

Folding screen by 17th Century artist Tosa Mitsuoki

Painting with His Voice

©2010 Shannon M. Wilson, Remember Me.
Acrylics, 48 x 36".

We've had a beautifully disorganized and lazy summer where we only change out of pajamas if the doorbell rings.  Living with purpose has its purpose, but sometimes too much purpose gets in the way of living -- this has been my summer mantra. (I hope my kids will all be able to hold down jobs someday with this kind of modelling, but it's a risk I'm going to have to take.)  Leisure and laughter and lollygagging with those you love is summer's gift and we've opened that gift every day.  It's why I haven't been doing much blogging or painting!

But in the midst of this leisure, I was invited to participate in a fabulous art auction to benefit the Women's Care Center in Elkhart, IN -- an impressive organization that supports young women who find themselves facing unplanned or crisis pregnancies.  I created the above piece for that event and was thrilled as it raised some serious dollars for the organization and the women it serves.  But what thrilled me even more was how the room responded to its words.  I chose one of my favorite quotes by Rumi:

"In your light, I learn how to love.  In your beauty, how to make poems.  You dance inside my chest where no-one sees, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art."  

I repeated the words "remember me" throughout the piece and I prayed it would strike a chord with someone in the room who longs for or experiences that kind of intimacy.

I could have included one of my abstract paintings for this event.  I could have chosen words that had more universal appeal.  I could have submitted one of my more popular jewelry designs -- a safe choice. But I had a special opportunity to let God work the room that night and the response was incredible.  As the bids climbed higher and higher, I sat stunned and humbled.  I cried all the way home as I tried to wrap my mind around how God has led me to this art -- art that speaks for Him. And how people's hearts seem to open in response.

Thank you, Teachers

"A teacher affects eternity.  He can never tell where his influence stops." 

-- Henry Brooks Adams

If you have young children, we're doing a lot of thanking right now, aren't we?   A year completed, a child bloomed, a family blessed.  What tremendous teachers all three of my children had this year!  And each and every one of them was perfectly chosen for my children for different reasons.  Seth with all his five-year-old fears was loved and sheltered so fiercely that he gradually let go of my hand.  Third grade  Sydney found a teacher who recognized her sweetness early and was valued for it instead of overlooked. My fourth grader, Lucas, was gifted with a teacher who knew that a well-written comic strip was just as important as a book review in his growth as a reader and writer.   It's hard to put into words my gratitude for the teachers who guide, teach, inspire, and protect our children while we aren't with them. Their influence is unparalleled at this point in my children's lives and will carry on in ways I won't even know in years to come.  Thank you, teachers.  All of you.

The piece above is a very rough attempt at Blackletter. I have a lot of practicing ahead of me!  I wrote with bleach and a flat brush and added the rest of the quote in Dr. Martin's white with a pointed pen.  The "A" was done with Golden Tar Gel and finished with copper leaf to complement the earth tone watercolors I used over the bleach.  This was a gift for one of my children's teachers who is retiring this year. 

Victoria Pittman Workshop

What an amazing, art-filled weekend I recently shared with my calligraphy friends!  We had a chance to take Victoria Pittman's "Tortured Metals" class and our heads are still spinning with all the techniques she threw at us.  She is a generous, open, eloquent, and passionate artist who many times throughout the weekend was almost giddy at the some of the effects we were able to achieve. You could tell she was cataloguing every experience as a springboard for a new creation she would attempt the second she left the building.  My favorite teaching moment was when she described in colorful detail a splatter of rust and paint she saw on a truck while travelling that she just had to emulate.  We learned how to use our eyes as well as our hands that weekend.  Thank you, Victoria!

Here are a few of my pieces from the workshop:

It is unbelievable what you can coax out of copper. 

Abstract acrylic piece using gestural marks and texturing tools.  

The possibilities are endless with this gesso-based technique.  I plan to use this one for a book cover. 

A sample of the results I was able to achieve by using a patina on gold and silver leaf.  The organic element is from a cactus in Victoria's yard.

Small card -- tissue paper and metal collage with silver leaf.  I love how the copper patina complements the acrylics.

Victoria is calmly at work while we are panicking that we're forgetting everything!

Check out Victoria's work for yourself at her blog: http://victoiriapittman.blogspot.com.  She has recently entered the world of encaustics and I can't wait to see how she uses them.  All I know is it will be unconventional and totally original.  

Compassion and the Secret Sisters Society

One of my jewelry clients is a member of the Secret Sisters Society, an organization of cancer survivors who are using their experience and passion for life to help women in our community who can't afford important cancer screenings like mammography. Every year they hold a fundraiser and invite artists to submit a design for their promotional materials.  The only requirements are that it include the Secret Sisters' name and mask.  When my client told me of their mission, I knew calligraphy had a place in their promotions and I decided to submit something. (My submission is pictured above.)  I'll know sometime in May if my work has been selected, but I thought I'd share the piece and a little about their efforts here, regardless of the outcome.  Art and words, and the merging of the two, can be very powerful -- maybe even powerful enough to move people to action. I believe the lettering arts could play an extraordinary role in the non-profit, healing industries.  I wish the Secret Sisters Society great success in their fundraising efforts and pray that their work is a light to those who desperately need it.

I used Sumi ink and Ecoline watercolors for the background and the lettering was done with ruling pen, broad edge, and pointed pen in Sumi, gouache, and Dr. Martin's bleedproof white.  The quote from Gandhi was yet another attempt at the new "bamboo italics" hand I am learning.

Simple Book in Bamboo Italics

Under the patient and expert teaching of Anne Binder (http://www.annebinder.org ), I "attempt" to add a new hand to my toolbox every 8 weeks.  To give us a break from the seriousness of Roman Capitals, she is now introducing us to a letterform she calls bamboo italics -- a contemporary and casual hand that lends itself to lengthy text (because of the short ascenders and descenders and ease of writing).  Using a Mitchell 4 and a pressure/release technique, you (not me, yet) can make these letters as playful or as serious as your chosen text demands.

Anne taught me early on that the best way to learn a new hand is to force yourself to create a finished product with it instead of just practicing on scrap paper.  That's only after you've first practiced it for hundreds of hours on scrap paper, of course.  The simple book pictured above and below is the result of my project-based practice -- the lettering is rough and very literal, but it's a start!  It features poetry from one of my favorite Sufi masters, Hafiz.  I pulled out some of my leather tools for the simple binding, using ribbon, silver grommets and beads.  The full text reads:

What kind of God would he be
if He did not hear the bangles on an ant's wrist
as they move the earth in their sweet dance?
And what kind of God would he be
if a leaf's prayer was not as precious to Creation
as the prayer His own son sang
from the glorious depth of his soul -- for us.
And what kind of God would he be
if the vote of millions in this world could sway Him
to change the Divine law of love
that speaks so clearly with compassion's elegant tongue
saying, eternally saying:
all are forgiven --
moreover, dears, no one has ever been guilty.

                -- Hafiz
                   (translated by Daniel Ladinsky)

Invent Your World

I am feeling so very grateful.  I will soon turn 41 and on this particular birthday I am aware more than ever of the abundance in my life.  With God's gentle prodding and closed doors that became open windows, a few years ago I decided to invent my world, change my day, and add to my life things that nourish me.  Of course I had to fit all those things inside the confines of my roles as wife and mother, but they fit well, and even my roles grew more rewarding, more beautiful, as a result.  I took on a new art form -- calligraphy.  I found a group of artists and a mentor who make me laugh and make it feel safe to share my work.  (The piece pictured above was created especially for them.)  I converted my dining room into a studio, because it places me a window away from my garden while I'm doing what I love.   Alone but unafraid, I took my first ever 3 day sabbatical and allowed music, meditation, and creative work to fill my every moment.  And I've fallen in love with my husband all over again because I had to go inward in order to find my true artistic expression and he was secure enough to wait for me on the other side.  

I know some of you are feeling the same staleness I felt two years ago, which is why I'm putting my story on paper, in front of you.  I have to ask.  How would you invent your world, change your day, add things to your life that nourish you?  What tiny changes would make you come alive and be a more true expression of yourself in and amongst your family and friends -- and in front of God?  Time -- it's going so fast.  Invent your world.