Succulents & Sunflower

Saying goodbye to an art work that I worked hard on and which rose to the top of my expectations of the piece, is a wonderful feeling.  It's really a successful communication - a conversation between the artist and the viewer (and in this case, the buyer) in the form of the art - and that process is a sort of art in and of itself, if that makes sense.  It all feels like a completed full circle when the art finds its "person".  And so, here are three views of Succulents & Sunflower which met, and went home with, its person today.

And tomorrow I'll say hello to the beginnings of a new piece - Poppies in the Grass.....

Diamonds & Reticulated Silver & Gold!

Come along with me as I continue featuring Celebration of Fine Art artists, art and happenings in the Big White Tent at the Loop 101 and Scottsdale Rd, here in Scottsdale, AZ where the sun is shining and the temps headed towards a delicious 74 degrees.

Donna Armstrong, in the NW Salon of the Celebration, is a jeweler and a gemologist.  You'll know this as soon as you ask her about the difference between diamonds!  The first shot is of a London Blue Topaz necklace and earrings set in reticulated silver and 14k gold.  The London Blue is the darkest and richest in color of all the topazes. I knew the reticulated look, but what I didn't know is that it is accomplished by texturing the metal with a torch.

The second pic is a custom wedding set that Donna updated for the client, using the client's original wedding stones, but adding the center Ascher cut diamond for a beautiful contemporary design with a nod to the traditional band.  Characteristic of the Ascher cut is the square stone with the corners cut off.

Donna, one of our Idaho artists, has been a jeweler for fifteen years and here in the NW Salon for three.  She works primarily with custom pieces, so...Valentine's Day is coming up........

See you tomorrow.  

Efflorescence and Inspiration from Poetry

"Efflorescence" Series is the name of this innovative new work from Syed.  Multi-layered glass panels inset in etched copper-clad boxes are pregnant with small shards, creating volume and depth of color which delicately shimmers, shifting color as you move across the piece.

Efflorescence - "a period of bloom", "a result of growth and development"- describes both the work and the artist's presence in his studio this year.

 The new "Autumn Sunset" Series is an extension (and may be seen at the Celebration of Fine Art along with the pieces shown here) of the original "Autumn" Series which he has reprised this year with some alterations in the etched copper portions.

Autumn for 2011

This year I had more time in my studio than I usually do.  This is always a gift from the Universe since I would greatly prefer to be there working than anywhere else on the planet (with children, being the only exception).  Coincidentally, I knew I would have a larger studio space at the Celebration.  I'm not sure I can quite describe the feeling of being lost in time and space that I get when lost in my work.  It is something of grace, I think.  The result is the major work this year - two large figurative pieces - and if you visit the show, I would be happy to tell you about them, as they have their own "stories", their "birth" and their "history".  

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings/Madonna of the Sparrows

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings/Letters from Burma

I had intended to introduce you today to Donna Armstrong's jewelry but I was not able to get her pictures yesterday....but check in tomorrow for simple elegance!

All text and images on this post copywrited 2011 Whitney Peckman

The Best Laid Plans

My good intentions of posting every day ran right up against the world's worst cold!  I'm upright, finally, so here is yesterday's (and Opening Day's) post - a bit late but with pics.

Here is an overview of the NW Salon's area of the Celebration of Fine Art - starting with Donna Bernstein from Idaho and in her 2nd year at CoFA and in the NW Salon.  We love Donna's zen approach to equine art - very clean and powerful, capturing the spirit of movement and grace.



And this is her husband, Lex, who built her exquisite studio look.  Lex is always ready to lend any of us a hand - maintaining his good humor throughout (not an easy task surrounded by a bunch of perfectionist and opinionated artists) - and, if you want to talk soccer - Lex is your guy.

Directly next to Donna, and always well behaved, is Emma (that would be Emma the Dog).  Deb, who is our tech woman extraordinaire and wife of Ken Newman, a most remarkable sculptor who works primarily in wood and bronze, creating important pieces of commentary on nature and man.

Our newest artist to join the NW Salon, Steve Taylor, is in his 2nd year at CoFA and we are so glad to have him in our "neighborhood" - not only does Steve paint sensitive portraiture, he and his wife, Janelle, also make the best chicken soup on the planet - I know this personally because they came to my rescue with their remedy for the cold that laid me low for a couple of days (thanks!!).

Michael Jones, our steel sculptor and encylopedia of Native American symbology, has made both the inside and outside of the tent into a studio replete with gates, totems, and wall pieces.  He and his wife and "red apron lady" (our intrepid sales force at CoFA) Karen, live in Montana in an historic cabin in the mountains.   

So, there you have a taste of 2011 Celebration of Fine Art, and tomorrow I'll post elegant jewelry with very special cut stones, by Donna Armstrong, as well as Syed's and my studio space and some of our newest work.  Hope you'll continue along this journey and forward our link, too!

Just the Beginning...

Good Morning Everyone, and a gorgeous morning it is here in Scottsdale, AZ!  The Celebration of Fine Art opened its doors last night for the opening night party and, though all the artists were breathing hard from the four days of fourteen hours constructing their studios and getting their work hung, the guests seemed only to marvel at the result (and enjoy the delectable offerings of Cafe Laredo).  Seeing old friends/clients who are always interested to see each artist's new work is food for the artists, and the appreciation feels like a real pat on the back for the efforts we make.

I hope to do something a bit different this year with my blog, posting each day about what's happening at the show, but particularly to acquaint you with our artists.  This is my fourteenth year at the show and I have seen so much remarkable work that I wish I had told more people about - now I have this great vehicle to do so.

For now, I'm off to our first official day and to shoot some pics for an overview to share with you tonight!

Celebration of Fine Art - Winner - 2010 Sterling Awards - Micro Business

We are so proud to be a part of this wonderful group. Susan and Jake Potje work all year long to make this event world class and really unique in the world of art shows. If you're in the Scottsdale, AZ area this winter, come visit us - I guarantee you won't be disappointed!

Landscape In Glass: Syed Ahmad-Waterworks Museum, Salisbury, NC

Landscape In Glass: Syed Ahmad-Waterworks Museum, Salisbury, NC

Here are some pictures from Syed's exhibit at the Waterworks Museum.  He will be giving a talk on December 16, at Waterworks.  All of the pieces in this show are sized for the home and may be used individually or in groups, as indicated by the installation at the museum.  Though physically small, the work creates an expanded perception of sea and land when hung with space between.  The clear glass overhangs create wonderful shadows of apparently moving water or air, and the dichroic glass creates movement of its own as the viewer passes by.  This work is both subtle and dynamic.  The show closes on February 7.

Christmas of Thanksgiving

Everyone has strong memories this time of year. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Chanukah, and the more ancient memories of winter solstice, deep in our cells. Memory is who we are and where we came from.  Sometimes it’s where we’re going.

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday, detached as it is for most of us, from religious trappings.  It’s easy for me to take my place at the laden table, surrounded by family and friends, clasp hands and say what I am grateful for.  I don’t mind that God summoned up is a laden table itself.  I’m willing to listen to Him or Her or It, the Universe, the Source, the Ancestor, the Creator, the Holy of Holies, the Mother Earth, Father Sky, be called upon to listen to our gratitudes large and small.  The pressure to Believe, the need to be right, doesn’t seem to be there on Thanksgiving.  Everyone seems to be content with just the moment  in which to be grateful.  Memories of turkeys cooked frozen with their parts still wrapped in paper buried inside the bird, the oyster stuffing everyone hated, the absolute must of three cranberry relishes – out of the can, orange-cranberry with port wine, and Mama Stemberg’s Pepto-Bismol pink, memories of grandparents now gone and of the unborn baby keeping me far from the table so that much gravy ended up on my stomach.  We express gratitude for all of those memories by gathering with others to create more.  We are our memories.

The other holidays are locked in my memory with burdens.  Christmas and Easter particularly so since they carry both religious and secular weight.  Perhaps that confusion adds to the encumbrance.  After all, how can making the list of things we want lie comfortably with charity and gifts of selflessness for the Baby Jesus?  And how does the enquiring mind justify counting packages under the tree with having to give up toys from last year for the poor kids.  Who were these poor kids anyway?  Every Christmas, before I could make out my list, I had to select several items to give away from my personal collection of toys, and they had to be good enough to give.  Obviously if they were “good enough to give”, I hadn’t been playing with them very much.  But I was a selfish little brat and with the call to give, came the louder voice from within, “NO! That’s my favorite toy!”  Though I was given several days to make this selection, it never got easier.  Those toys that had gotten pushed to the back of my closet, lying in the darkened corner, unopened even, were too shiny to pass on without a fight.  As I fought, I grew uglier, being reminded by adults that if I were not acting lovingly on the inside, it would surely begin to show on the outside. Pretty is as pretty does.  Beauty on the inside is the only beauty that counts.  Do ugly, be ugly. Standing on my “tall girl” stool, checking in the bathroom mirror, I was certain I could see ugly warts growing on my nose, bad teeth coming in, my hair falling out.  I trudged to the closet and yanked my new favorite toy out, slamming it on the bed, now hating the very item I wanted most to possess.

If giving was burdensome way back in my childhood, it grew to be something of a yoke around my neck in later years.  In my twenties and thirties, having gone back to the earth, so to speak, to raise my family on a farm, it was only natural to make every gift by hand.  The list of people to gft (having finally gotten that giving is more fun than getting) increased each year, until the making took most of my free time from June to Dec. 25, about 3 a.m.  Often times the gifts failed to cross the threshold of the “store bought” look.  My jams were tasty but I never got the knack of the packaging.  My cloth covered lids always looked common.  I needed Martha, but Martha wasn’t yet.  Now, I wouldn’t have Martha.  But, that’s what happens on the route from hand-made in the 70’s to artist-made in the 10’s - the mass market makes everything common.  Nevertheless, the gifts piled up – sweaters and mittens, socks and purses, handwoven pillows and throws.  The dollhouse with furniture, curtains and bedcovers kept me up till 3.  I should have gotten a real job at the North Pole.

What is giving now?  I wonder how much laughter, how many tears, how many memories people will have now that the holidays are so much about getting great deals from ever larger and more generic stores.  Does lining up in front of Best Buy at 2 a.m on Black Friday make Thanksgiving more memorable?  I try to connect the dots of Thanksgiving and Black Friday, but the dots form no lasting string of memory for me.  I just know that if you want to be in that line at 2 a.m., you don’t feel like playing Charades or Monopoly, or even Wii, with the kids while you get ready for the second round of turkey and pie.  Where are we going with memories of big box stores and cheap goods from overseas?

         In these trying financial times, memories of fatter days can ask you who you really are.  I used to sigh with the sadness of wanting more than I had.  When my kids were little I wanted to get the best and biggest of the toys plus everything else they had on their lists.  I never could.  I often felt that I had failed them somehow.  It took me such a very long time to understand that my desire to fill their world with things was nothing more than me trying to fill the unfillable void left by the death of my mother and the breakup of my family.  I could not see that my children were the gifts  given to me to fill the void.  The memories of Christmases past are burdened by that endless struggle to have enough.  When would I ever have enough?  Not in time to relieve my daughter of the same burden.  Our memories are who we are and sometimes who our children are as well.  Sometimes it’s good to be selective about which memories we carry with us.

         I have packed my burdensome memories in a Lucite box so that I may see them, acknowledge that they are mine, but I place them on a shelf in my mind where I need not go unless I choose to, a shelf lit by the light of transparency but high up so children and grandchildren cannot be tripped or tumbled by them.

         This year, as I held hands around the Thanksgiving table and listened to the gratitudes, small and large, being spoken by all in turn, I was filled with the memory of last Christmas season.  My children and grandchildren traveled all the way to North Carolina to spend the week with my husband and myself.  We don’t celebrate a religious Christmas.  Nor is it exactly a secular Christmas.  Rather it is a Christmas of Thanksgiving.  My husband and I are not Christians but a neighbor gave us a tree with lights, for the children he said, and we all spent days making paper stars, cranberry and popcorn strings, and cookie angels.  As we sat around the kitchen table we told stories of other Christmases and that was when I realized that all those Christmases of sighs, of being afraid that what I did wasn’t enough – well, it was only my memory.  Just mine.  The kids remembered joy and fun and wonderful times – riding in the bucket of the old red tractor to cut firewood in the forest, tramping out in the field to cut three straggly trees to wire into one whole Christmas tree that would be too tall and have to be cut down to fit our house, carols and baking cookies, and decorating with paper chains and, oh yes, the yearly gingerbread house, to be decimated on New Year’s Day.  Full and loving Christmases.  Memories of love.  And, of course we all know…"love is all there really is."


Syed and I send our love to you all in this season of Love.