Art Roundup 2021 by Gretchen Butler

 

During my toddlers’ nap time, I glanced around the kitchen and sketched the eggbeater on a whim. My version was askew, which reflected my life. However, the feel of the pencil on paper was pleasing, and the egg- beater metaphor made me smile even though I was in heartbreak mode.

That first drawing 50 years ago opened a gate for the can opener, watering can, stove and ironing board. Then, children, fishermen, petunias and chickens danced onto pages. Drawings translated into prints from linoleum blocks warmed in the oven, then clamped onto the kitchen table to be carved. The following decades, small increments of art in the kitchen amidst family hubbub saved my sanity.

I especially did not want to take a class. I did not want anyone telling me what to do. Pleasure emerged from allowing shapes to emerge without judgment, without an end product agenda. Well, since I don’t like to waste stuff, the first rough prints became stationery for letters to my parents.

I thank my parents for encouraging us to explore our passions--although artwork was not one of them when I was a kid. Their positive parenting attitude generated innovations geared for changing behavior without hammering in shame. For example, our family’s Three Mistakes Rule applied to rude or clumsy table manners, spilled milk etc. We had three chances before anyone could nag, criticize or holler at us. By the time we approached the third “strike,” exagerrated drama made the scene a joke. My parents’ strategies helped us become conscious of what we did instead of thwarting confidence with angry scare tactics. We grew up willing to ease into new experiences.

As an adult, I was hooked on drawing and printing for six years before the second phase of art development kicked in. A harsh inner critic gained power as I compared myself with artists near and far. Even so, I was hooked on the quiet meditation’s play between feelings and shapes on the page. The stack of paintings became so high I had to turn it all into wrapping paper or do something to introduce myself to the world. As the self- imposed deadline approached, I had no idea of what to do. I had an upset stomach on the Day.

I took the stack of paintings into the interior decorator store next to Alphabeta. The decor featured traditional, realistic still life and landscape art--opposite to my wonky, whimsical style. I did not have an appointment, but had nothing to lose. The woman at the desk, Leslie Pearson, perused all my work, then proposed a deal. She gave me junk frames, which I sanded and painted to complement my favorite paintings. Her professional mat/glass fittings made my art presentable for shows at folk venues and professional galleries. In exchange, I painted florals with color palettes customized for specific decorators. Hundreds of florals with just barely enough of a unique flair managed to satisfy all of us. The arrangement with the interior decorator framer lasted for decades.

My first show, Rising Bread Dough, in the showcase window of Claremont’s Some Crust Bakery, included the large, red eggbeater monoprint. Then, I became one of the original Gypsy Sisters, a local art collective with two shows a year. Solo exhibits benefitted the local farmers’ market and nature conservancy. Paintings constantly tumbled out in starts and snatches betwixt family and work--my studio was still in the kitchen.

In the third phase of growth as an artist, the witchy self-critic became friends with my inner time-keeper.
My three-ring circus juggler took strolls outside the ring. At home most sessions with paint were short. However, I did not rush. I needed time for more thoughtful, complex work. The slow-down helped hone technique and ramped up enjoyment. This enhanced a sense of well-being, of living in a larger emotional and spiritual space.

I continue to learn to lighten up--if the work is lousy, paint over it. Sometimes again and again. Equally important, though, is learning to look with soft eyes. What I first think are mistakes can become gifts. Surprises from paint slurps, slops, spatters and inaccuracies of all sorts become springboards for a new direction or nuance. Awareness of my own visceral reactions to colors, shapes and details also provides guidance.

Meditating on the blank page continues to surprise me and help balance my stance with life’s perplexing issues. Now that my kids are grown and I’ve retired from teaching special education, I write, garden and do art galore. Attention to color, design and texture touches everything: paintings, fabric-wrapped sculptural dolls, garden art, food art, door frames, bath tubs, dust pans, ceilings.
Although my work has sold readily in art centers, boutiques and book stores, I will never be professional in the sense that my art is market-driven. Curiosity and exploration lead to shifting subject matter and styles. My stream of work has more than one current, which is a process that runs counter to predictable branding. While each project has earned enough to finance the next, I’m not good at reaching further than local audiences.

Since the c-virus has broken the circle of making and sharing art in person, we hope to lasso new ways for connecting private creativity with the larger world. These days I have the most fun--and the most sweat--publishing photo essays about the creative process, local artists and country living. Please enjoy these stories with a chuckle during your visits to the Wild Art Cafe: gretchenbutlerwildartcafe.com.

Also available at the Wild Art Cafe site are fine art prints, original paintings, whimsical tablets, cards and four publications: Deep Time--an Art Odyssey, Red Canoe Camping and Hiking Poems, Rock & Root 3-year Gardening Journal and Wild Plum Cafe, A Memoir.

I look forward to savoring the work of the writer/artist participants in Nitza Agam’s Working Women newsletter. Many thanks to Nitza and her crew for making our on-line village possible.

Pictures in order: Eggbeater, 30” x 48”  Monoprint; Golden Bird, 36” x 48” acrylic on Arches; Changing Woman, goddess of growth and creativity in Navajo mythology, 36” x 48” acrylic on cradled birch panel

~ Gretchen Butler 

                                                Canyonstudio@gretchenbutler.com

Bio - Gretchen Butler
Gretchen Butler is an artist and gardener in rural Northern California. She lives with her husband and two cats.  Her memoir, "Wild Plum Cafe,"  describes creating a new life after a major wild fire, and offers stories, poems, essays, poems, letters, and art spiced with her whimsical humor as she writes about the fears and delights in building a new home in the forest.