But if the trees fall, where will the birds sleep?
What will hold the flood? Embrace the Earth?
Draw the soul from my bones so that someday
someday
I might yet get a chance to pay my debts?
Be kind to the trees, Wind
For if they do not stand, I can’t walk
Written during a series of gusting storm fronts that swept through my city over several days. March came in like the proverbial lion this year. I wrote this while the wind howled, my house swayed, the dogwood branches clawed across my windows in the dark, and I just had one request.
Which was granted, after all.
The illustration is a small painting in ink and watercolor.
Today begins the year of the Wood Snake according to the Chinese lunar calendar. In the Chinese zodiac, it seems snakes are associated with wisdom and calm, grounded dispositions, something I think we could all benefit from this year. Last night, I wrote this:
Snow is falling on my street Slow and light Bright against the night
The wind calmed down at last. I draw the blind across the glass and go to bed.
They say the wind will blow again tomorrow So tonight I sleep in blankets deep and the silence of the snow falling on my street.
Winter is a season of challenge and rest. It’s a time of stark beauty, quiet light, and endless space. In winter, we see right down to the fundamentals of things, and we make the most of what we’ve learned the rest of the year. Winter is the end of one chapter and the beginning of the next. Here are some paintings and collages, celebrating this season of contrasts. Happy Holidays!
October is the Hunter’s Moon, and this week, it was big and bright, and lit up the broken clouds in silver and gold. I decided to celebrate with some collages.
I’ve been deep in painting for the Alchemy of Dragons illustrations, so it’s been a while since I did a collage, which has been a mainstay of my work for many years. It was interesting to compare the two processes.
Painting is straightforward. I sketch and plan. Finalize the image. Recreate or transfer the line art to the painting surface. Select the palette. Do the doing. It takes as long as it takes.
Collage takes its time, too, but it’s a wilder ride. It’s a deep dive into my mind. It’s like memory recovery hypnosis. It’s like dream analysis. Nothing is planned or designed. A vision is in my head – a thing is seen or thought – and wants to become art. In this case, it’s a real-life thing, the Moon on the 28th of October, 2023.
The actual Moon, photographed from my studio on the night in question.
But I didn’t draw a picture of it. I didn’t try to recreate the object of the Moon. I wanted to express the feelings it gave me. Complicated feelings and several of them.
I wanted to pull that Moon down to me, big and close, the way it felt when I looked up and the distance between me and it melted away. The clouds parting, and my little neighbors in their roosts, touched by its light. Taking a night walk, soaking up that cool glow amid autumn wind and flying leaves, in the season of witchery and ghosts.
I can’t sketch that out. I have to wander my way to such an image. I have to find the hooks to draw it out, piece by piece, to turn the ephemeral into the material. So I hit the collage files.
I pulled out papers, vintage clips, found materials, searching for pieces of what was brewing in the old noggin, anything that resonated in the moment. Dark blues and a rich black. Oh, look, some gold tissue paper, just like the clouds that night. A scrap of a copy of some Japanese textiles, this will give me the leaves I want. Wait – what stars are up this month? Consult the Old Farmer’s Almanac! Collect paint, ink, pencils. Cook some paste.
I pulled out so much stuff, and then began the process of combining and recombining, adjusting and problem-solving until two stories emerged. One on paper. One on canvas.
Hunter’s Moon and Cassiopeia, collage on canvas, Jen Fries
Admiring the Moon, collage on paper, Jen Fries
It took up my whole freaking workspace, much to the annoyance of Studio Assistant Princess Lunalynx, who likes to nap in the sun on the main table. Holy smokes, there was a lot of clean-up. I’m still holding out the unused materials, in case more Moon or Halloween ideas come to me – the ripples and echoes still bouncing around.
Collage will always be a vital part of my creative practice because it teaches me about myself. The process of selection and composition mirrors the way my mind works and how I construct my ideas. Chaotic. Messy. Quirky. Full of references. And of the school that says that even the most unrealistic image will be realistic if it captures the real essence of a thing – if it speaks to a person’s emotions – if it makes you feel like you were there, like you had that dream, too.
Anyway, that’s the goal.
These works will be added to the Artworks gallery and my shop very soon.
I did the Alchemy Chapter 6 illustration, too. I’ll talk more about this and its accompanying chapter initial in another blog post, but for now, thrill to the world’s first glimpse of our main protagonist, Erran Fox.
Here he is, with Squirrel Nutkin and the aura-horse Maedrephon, flying towards the sunset, in search of a bard who can charm dragons.
… flew the distance as fast as the wind itself … pen and wash in pastels, on paper
Chapter 6 is expected to hit the website by the end of this week. Watch this site.
Our Halloween is a little pauce this year. We’ve had too many headaches and joint issues, both me and My Sainted Mother, too many distractions, and too much disappointment with our fellow humans.
But I still found some moons and some magic. Plus, I see it’s 1:30 AM as of this writing. The day is young.
A round-up of what I’ve been drawing and painting lately.
New illustrations for An Alchemy of Dragons.
I decided to take pity on you all for once and split my longer chapters into two parts for easier reading on teensy-beensy little phone screens. Of course, each chapter still needs at least two illustrations, so that means more art!
Chapter 4 has been split into Chapters 4 and 5, with two new images. You can see these in the novel text, here, and get a close-up look in the Artworks Gallery, under Illustration, here.
Chapter 3 is also going to get split. I need to do one new image for that. I’ll probably default to Ch. 3, Pts 1 and 2, rather than edit all the other page titles after it.
A Small Botanical Painting
Dog roses from my garden, pastel on paper.
I actually don’t work well with pastels in the traditional way, as a dry medium. I apply them wet, like watercolor paints. It gives me an interesting matte finish, like a more ethereal gouache. I intend to write about my process in the near future.
Teasers
Coming Next: The first illustration for Chapter 6 of Alchemy. Here’s a sneak peak of the sketch.
Still Inside My Head: October is the month for lunar art, don’t you think?
I’m thinking collage for this one.
Why, yes, I do take photos of the moon with a rubbish old point-and-click camera with no filters or proper settings, from my studio window in the middle of the night. Doesn’t everyone?
Happy Year of the Water Rabbit, on the Chinese lunar calendar!
This morning, I finished my first art of the year, “Rabbit and Moon” (working title; I may change it).
It’s about 9 x 12 inches, on paper, mixed media – watercolor, graphite, and ink. The asemic writing in the upper right corner is actually my real, gloriously illegible handwriting, turned on its end. This time I’m quoting Robert Frost, a line from “Mending Wall” (1914):
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding to please the yelping dogs
In the verse containing that line, Frost talks about going out in spring with his neighbor to repair the damage that happens to their boundary wall over the winter, including the vandalism of hunters who knock down the stones to flush out their prey, because “they would have the rabbit out of hiding.” (Click here for the full text, off-site.)
That poem also gives us the famous line, “Good fences make good neighbors.” Frost’s neighbor repeats that saying, and the poet Frost wonders why good neighbors need fences at all. Shouldn’t they be able to rely on their mutual understanding?
Myself, I’m a little on the fence about that (har-har), but I do appreciate that, even though Frost might not like the barrier between people, by mending the wall, he’s evening the odds for the rabbits.
Jumping back from West to East, Chinese astrology says that the Water Rabbit brings in peaceful, patient, and creative energies and encourages us to rely on our inner wisdom and trust our instincts. We should approach this year’s challenges calmly and rationally, and be kind and considerate to each other and to ourselves.
Water Rabbit Year 2023 could turn out to be all about good neighbors – having them and being them. Just remember that the barriers that delineate our personal boundaries are best when everyone finds safety in them – us and the rabbits.
Happy October! Tonight, the full Hunter’s Moon is shining side by side with Jupiter at its closest and brightest, and Halloween is coming up fast.
I’ve always been inspired by things associated with this time of year. Magic and the occult. Myths and monsters. Dreams and the night. The masks we wear and what lies beneath them. And above it all, the beautiful, changing, eternal Moon.
To start the celebration of my favorite month and my favorite season, here is a selection of artworks I’ve made through the years, exploring these themes.
This one is about the gifts the universe sends us, the treasures we pass by on the road.
The moon was particularly beautiful over Somerville last night, when the storm clouds parted. It was bright enough to light my room, overcoming the street lamps. The wet air smelled of spring.
By the way, we call April’s moon the Pink Moon, not because it looks pink, but because it’s the month for pinks, the flower, to bloom. Indeed, my city is filling up with flowers now.
I repurposed one of my blue landscapes for this collage. Sometimes an image has more to say, and I will often revisit older pieces that seem like they want to go in a different direction. In fact, I won’t let go of a piece until I’m sure it is what it wants to be.
Hello, all. I’m back after one of my long, unannounced absences, and I’m afraid I return with sad news.
Our beloved cat, Leah, has died after more than a year battling cancer. The disease turned aggressive in late November, and she passed in early January, at home with us by her side. She was 17 years old. She’d had a rough as a captured feral cat in shelters before coming to our home some 13 years ago, but despite her post-traumatic phobias and neuroses, she was the sweetest, most caring and quietly affectionate creature you could imagine. Beautiful, small, delicate, she was our fairy princess, and few things could make us happier than to see her content and purring. We all miss her so much.
Immediately after our personal loss, of course, That Insurrection Thing happened. As you know, we are a rather political gang in the apartment attached to the studio, so it was a bit all-consuming to watch, in a state of grief, as a bunch of racists and fascists tried to overthrow the US government live on tv, and all the ripples that spread from that.
Also, covid-19.
Altogether, not a good time, and I hope you will understand that I haven’t done, said, or thought a single thing worth telling you about in over two months.
But tonight is the first full moon of 2021, and I am officially restarting the year as of now.
Am I all healed up and ready to rock? Nope. I am tired, and foggy, and sad, my plans are a jumbled mess, and my calendar is mostly blank. But the fascists failed, and the days are getting longer, and I do feel just a little more … possible than I did just two weeks ago. It’s a flimsy straw, but I’m grasping it. In the past two days, I’ve started a new sketchbook for the year. I’m planning my garden. I’m gradually, baby-step KonMari-ing this whole place (ye gods, I’ve got a lot of stuff), and sorting it all out is giving me a ton of new ideas. Somehow, I feel vaguely like I can start moving again.
Where does this thin trickle of unexpected energy come from? Maybe the moon. January’s Ice Moon is ushering in a wave of snow storms and a deep freeze here in scenic Somerville, and I do feel as if those gusts of wind are blowing away the last, clinging dregs of 2020. You know, psychologically.
So, belatedly, happy New Year. I hope you are all warm and keeping well and looking forward to better days. I make no warranties or representations for what 2021 will bring from my studio, or when, or how. I offer no schedules or projects on deck. No promises = no apologies, that’s my motto for the moment.
So let’s just go forth, as it were, and see what emerges, shall we?
Winter 2020/2021 Photo Journal
In Memoriam: Leah the Bedea, Our Princess, forever loved.
Jen Fries Arts 