PODCAST Season 1, Episode 13, "SIDE YARD/ BACKYARD"
Wisdom At The Crossroads, The Podcast.
A mixed media pair called “SIDEYARD / BACKYARD” are the stars of the perennial show in the lucky 13th episode of the podcast this week.
Together they introduce a hardy cast of characters whose cheeky personalities take shape in chalk pastel and acrylic on paper.
We hear the story of friendship as it played out in the garden, learn a simple way to impersonate a deckled edge and get a glimpse of art history at work in the painters studio.
The meditation begins at 12:53 in the recording. In it we practice Independently yet together we define our own version of a personal oasis. Whether this place is real or imagined, while there, we can move our to do lists aside for a short while and recharge, unhurried in the peace we’ll find in the natural world.
Using the breath as our guide we accept an unhurried moment and pause reflectively, together. And isn’t that what the garden is all about?
Spring time always inspires. It gets me thinking of my garden which has always been a muse. The black earth of the prairie is a rich and supportive host for my perennials, annuals and herbs. I love to touch the earth, to feel connected to something larger than myself, to be literally grounded in the moment and the action of curating a seasonal show.
My camera was my studio assistant when the activities of my athletic family necessitated storing my inspiration on film. Much of that inspiration came from the garden and those images became starting points for paintings that often grew in series.
My intention has never been to replicate my source but to allow the work to evolve as the energy of circumstance; memory and intention converge in acrylic colour across a 2D surface.
I strive to capture the essence of the moment, to describe with the action of a loaded and wet flippy brush or a flat square bristle; the cheeky personalities of the poppy, the shapes of a perennial community, the buoyancy of a cluster of daisies, the strength of spring bulbs or the expansive nature of a prairie landscape.
In my studio Inspiration is infinite, discipline is a necessary constant, and the garden is a perennial theme blooming year round, indoors on canvas and panel in colour, outdoors in its natural state.
Right now in the studio I am working on a couple of commissions. These new clients have seen some of my new work and chose to use that as a starting point for their respective projects. I intentionally leave sold works on my website so new clients can get a sense of what I do, or what I have done in the past.. A picture is worth a 1000 words so it also makes for a simpler conversation when examples of previous work can help to explain a thought, or preferences, mine or the clients.
Painting a garden or landscape subject keeps me excited for the next growing season even if it is still a bit further off in the distance than I would like. This year the late spring and record April snowstorms have kept the distraction of the garden at bay for now so I have more time to apply to these painting projects for the time being. I am definitely ready to play in the dirt though. I love the garden, all gardens. I love the little incidental green spaces in urban and suburban environments. Some might call the plants that grow there weeds, weeds might be a little harsh. But I do I love to see plants thrive in challenging circumstances. That’s probably why in Canada I have been so enamored with the perennials and biennials I experience here in my northern backyard.
When I first came to Canada my novice attempts to break soil in our zone 3 backyard involved the rescuing of hardware store packages of bulbs and bare roots that I tossed casually into a neglected triangular garden bed, and I use the term “garden bed” very loosely in our then, under sized backyard. In the front were a couple of trees a lawn and some shaded overgrown foundation plantings. There was a small rectangle of grass in the back, a patio and a mature hedge of heritage lilacs along the side fence that were a spectacle in their brief season. These lilacs might have partially obscured a small potential garden bed while they bloomed but once their show had settled there became a clear need to add some kind of colour to the space.
This side yard plot lay just beyond the canopy of a gnarled and craggy apple tree that had overtaken the feature corner of our postage stamp lot. The bed was home to variegated bishop’s gout weed which at the time I did not realize was invasive. I watched that semi shaded spot from the vantage point of a small patio table and chair and was amazed to witness the compressed growing season usher to life a leggy stem that burst open with the most magnificent bloom. The stargazer Lilly was pungent and beautiful and was definitely an inspiration. I had never seen one bloom in a garden. I had only seen them on daytime TV, on Y and R and thought they were so perfect they must have been artificial.
“My” bloom was almost too heavy to be supported by the stem that held it safely above the variegated tangle at its feet. It was a mesmerizing spectacle with the added bonus that I could safely play in the dirt around it without my Instinctive Australia fear of spiders kicking in.
It wasn’t long before I became the horticultural student of my next door neighbor who shared her passion for the colourful succession of reblooming perennials with me. I remain in her debt and think of her each year when I see fuchsia petunias return to the garden centre.
The gift of the garden extends beyond colour in the landscape to encourage friendship; the garden also brings out the kindness of strangers. When we moved from the postage stamp sized apple tree garden with the staggering solo stargazer Lilly a colleague of my husbands arrived on our driveway with a trailer load of labelled cuttings and seed heads to get our perennial garden started. Some of these I tossed liberally into a strip of side yard that caught and held the warmth of the afternoon sun. Tucked along a fence this little incidental plot grew carnation headed poppies, bachelor buttons, blue delphiniums, yellow Asiatic lilies and a sprinkling of wild daisies. These little colonies welcomed me into the backyard from the driveway and ushered me back out front through the gate. Nobody benefited from this joyful little oasis but me and I was happy to pick and play with it while the larger efforts out back took hold. They wouldn’t be ready to show any results until after a season or two of growth.
To prolong the brief bloom time I took some snapshots from the in and out vantage points of this little garden plot to use later in the studio. Painted in 2006 the pair I painted on paper, inspired by this spot keep a mixed media record of the earliest days of my current garden. In 2006 I was still working on paper and this pair shared a full sheet of water colour paper scored vertically so the images are about 11” x 30”. The full sheet had a lovely deckled edge which can’t be replicated but the cut edge was softened by scoring a crease down the centre, applying water with a paintbrush along the scored line, and with a little patience and some gentle pressure, tearing the sheet in half. The process allowed me to achieve, if not a true deckled edge then at least a softened edge that still allowed me to float mount the finished pieces and keep the organic edge of the paper on display.
My garden was small yet expansive and could easily have filled full sheets but the idea of a narrow vertical composition was appealing and has been a shape I have used periodically over the years. The finished pieces are framed and fit comfortably into small spaces. I gifted this pair, one to each of our daughters who at the time were keen to see what was happening in my little studio. The paintings live separately in our house but will move out with our girls when they eventually leave home.
As I was contemplating this pair we were in the midst of what was forecast to be a generational spring storm. Thankfully the storm didn’t live up to the dire early predictions but we did still see snow pile up on grass that was just beginning to show the promise of future growth. Bringing my once upon a garden indoors in a painting gives me hope that the earth will eventually rebloom. My buried perennial garden in this northern climate will soon demonstrate its resilience and burst back to life for its fleeting yet vibrant display, soon is definitely the key word we are all holding onto here.
When I was painting on paper I used the heaviest paper I could find to try to mitigate or at least minimize warping after the addition of wet media on paper. A traditional watercolorist might tape the dry paper to a board to keep the ground taut while it dried but that would take the deckled edge out of the equation. I wanted to paint to the edges of the paper and found ways to flatten the paper after painting. The process began with by spraying a mist of water to the back of the paintings to relax the paper, I then layered the paintings between glassine and blotting papers while and weighted them in groups under sheets of Masonite and my art history books. It was a work out but it seemed to work out.
I began this pair of paintings using watered down acrylic paint. Acrylic dries quickly which was helpful on my limited budget of painting time in those days. Having two compositions to work on simultaneously was also helpful in maximizing my studio time. At the end of my studio visit I would let the pieces dry. When I returned to them the following day I would either add further layers of acrylic or draw into them with chalk pastel. The pastels allowed me to avoid browning when wet colours merged on paper and also helped me to focus on highlights or add details or refinements using one colour literally in my hand at a time.
My studio was on the second floor of the building then and I made frequent trips downstairs to the loading dock with spray fixative to seal in the layers of paints and pastel. The resultant images have a sketchy feel to them, no horizon line and suggest rather than accurately describe the inhabitants of that narrow garden bed.
I love the effects of chalk pastel. The media was a good choice for describing the plant material in a simplified way while still being able to render them as recognizable. The acrylic base got me started on my journey through layers and is essentially how I continue to begin my paintings in the present.
Chalk pastel can be a bit fragile, despite best laid plans to seal it with a fixative so I could continue working over top of earlier layers, there was a tendency for small crumbs to separate from the surface. The pair was framed; Float mounted with matting behind glass and they look comfortable in their frames. I good framer is a good investment especially if you are working with paper. Over the years there has been some crumbling of pastel from the surface of these paintings but other than the memory of chalk pastel screeching across my finger nails and sending my teeth into a desperate clench the paintings are still appreciated and are an accurate record of some of my early practices.
Some of the lessons I learned from this pair:
Process is personal and though we are always evolving there are some aspects of each new chapter that stay with us as we grow. For me the use of one colour at a time has helped me to avid blending clear colour down to neutrals.
Framing is an investment especially for works on paper and definitely worth doing properly.
The perennial garden will return each year no matter how later the last spring snow storm barrels through. Each year it will show a little differently depending on the seasonal conditions and the amount of attention or neglect it receives. Surprisingly perennials are sometimes best left to their own devices.
Our cottage garden has been the beneficiary of my time in recent years but the delphiniums in that sunny patch of side yard have multiplied and make a spectacular leggy show without or despite my efforts each year.
Chalk pastel still makes my teeth grate; it’s even hard to type a description of it without the memory of chalky teeth and my face instinctively twisting itself into a sour taste in response.
There is no such thing as a trespasser in my yard, just friends we are yet to meet.
Should you find yourself in my neighborhood please know I am always happy to spread the garden joy by sharing cuttings and seeds in the example of our friends who arrived on the driveway of our new home, and my former neighbor, who shared their knowledge and generosity with me as I will, in turn, with you.
As a final note in this the lucky 13th episode, it is good to remember that in life as in art: friendships, plants and pastimes, will all continue to evolve and to grow, with and without our help and encouragement.
This week’s meditation begins at in the recording.
I will add the new link below when the episode is live but in case you stop by ahead of that you can feel free to google “wisdom at the crossroads podcast” with amanda Onchulenko, Season 1 Episode 13: “BACVKYARD/ SIDEYARD”
Leave your questions or comments on the website or find me on instagram @mandartcanada. I would love to hear from you
Until next time, stay well,
all best
Amanda