"Last Leaves of Autumn" by Viza Arlington

Image posted with the permission of the artist. Click here for links to Viza Arlington's blog and Etsy store.

Someone says the word winter, and we think of snow. But snow - oh lovely snow, bright, airy, and playful! - is not a constant presence everywhere there is winter. Often it's just cold and dry and bleak. The trees stand naked, and I desire to run out to the discount store to buy them some fleece blankets, or if I'm truly devoted, knit them sweaters. On such winter days I yearn for nature's dazzling cover of snow.

A month ago, to look at trees was to be enthralled by a towering spectacle of color. Now, as autumn wanes, I watch the trees strip down, day by day a little more exposed. Some are already leafless, scrawny, and embittered by their shame. Beside them stand the hopeless diehards. Their spattering of cheery reds and other warm hues against an ice-blue sky are like the last bite of the most moist, rich, and fragrant chocolate cake I've ever enjoyed. Savor it, pay the bill, then walk away.

"Feeding Time" (proof)

This is a proof of the back cover of the third and final single sheet book  I plan to  submit it to the exhibition Ritual. The image is 3" x 4" and a white line woodcut. This means that the lines are carved out of the block and then I paint in all the raised areas with watercolors. (The second photo is of the block after I printed from it.) Traditionally white line woodcuts are printed shape by shape. But that process is impractical for the printing of this book, so I'm trying another method which I read about on this post of printmaker Viza Arlington's blog. It involves painting the whole block first and letting it dry, then spraying it with a mist of water to reconstitute the paint for printing. Arlington used a press in her post (she was doing a large edition for a fundraiser), but since I'm only doing one-offs and small editions and I don't have a press in my studio, I'm using wooden spoons and elbow grease to print these kitties. 

"Waterfall" by Viza Arlington

Image posted with the permission of the artist. Here are links to Viza Arlington's blog and Etsy store.

Water like ribbons dispensed for an unfathomably massive gift. Some pulled straight and taut, the rest spilling out in a nervous, jiggly flow. My scalp starts to itch because I'm reminded of hair perfectly parted in the center before being pulled so tight that there is wincing, even a yelp. From there the hair is tied into place with uncomfortable bands from which the rest of the hair is released to make frizzy chaos.There are many shades and hues of blue, and they are all translucent and they all shimmer. The black and grey cliffs and rocks create a stoic frame for the water's insistent movement, just as you are an essential sounding board for my endless grievances.

"Hibiscus" by Viza Arlington

Hibiscus

Viza Arlington

19" x 25.5" (image)

Links to the artist's blog and Etsy store.

This image first captivated my attention a few years ago when I discovered it on Etsy. The artist made an edition of 40 and has sold several over the years. It is easy to see why this image is so striking, but difficult to explain.

Last Thursday was the autumn equinox; the official start of fall, even though most people in this part of the world think of fall as beginning in September or after Labor Day. I chose to post and write about this image today in honor of the colors of autumn, which is a tad ironic considering that the hibiscus plant only grows in subtropical and tropical regions. Sort of reminds me of when I saw decorated evergreen trees and heard "White Christmas" over the airport radio in Thailand. But in this age of fast travel, imports, exports, and the Internet, why not have a tropical flower stand for a celebration of fall?

This portrait with no face, no background, is therefore anonymous and without context. With the delicately rendered ear and contours of her facial profile, the picture seems highly realistic. And yet the uniform planes of color: black, umber, orange, coral, the simplicity with which the flower is rendered, the tight cropping, and anonymity, make it seem quite abstract. This is a pleasing arrangement of colors, shapes, textures, and lines, and at the same time she is a person being watched, examined (by us) while unaware. The colors radiate, and yet the distance created by our voyeurism and her gaze turned away from us, cools. This, too, reminds me a fall.