Reflections on "Late Bloomer" Exhibit After Whirlwindy Summer

For some mysterious reason, this blog has decided to play matchmaker with links that have no business being here. I'm doing my best to stop this digital mischief, but I haven't cracked the code yet. These links aren't mine, I swear! I suspect it's another one of those sneaky Wix advertising shenanigans. So, avoid clicking on anything that's lit up and ending up in some internet no-man's-land. Onward.

The Passenger. 30x40 Pastel, alcohol ink, spray mica. Upcycled vintage frame.

It is time to lie down on our magical ponies and take a siesta.

Summer rolled in like a cranky dragon, bringing scorching heat and way more events than I planned for (but they were mostly a blast, so no complaints here). I also have been working my own dragon tail off on a project that's been gobbling up all my non-playtime hours—which I'm actually looking FORWARD to writing a blog post about—so I'm getting this one out of the way.

Wrapdragon. She looks almost as tired as I feel.

Somehow, I also ended up in a bunch more places. You can spot three of my pieces at the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens, one of them at the Boothbay Regional Art Foundation Gallery, and there is a third show... somewhere. Maybe I am waiting to hear if I got into one and forgot about it? Could be. Seriously, my paintings are playing hide and seek all over Maine.

I brought more stuff to the Senator Inn and Spa. I still have paintings there and keep forgetting to mention that... Since they are from 2023 or earlier, they're quite affordable, to boot. There are prints of mine at BRAF. There are also prints and my old [discontinued] decks of oracle cards at Fodens Minerals.

This fallen owl-angel-girl was in Late Bloomer, and I'm planning on taking her into The Senator next week. If someone wants her before the price goes up 25% for commish, message me.

Oh, my gosh. I don't know where else I am. I'll need to do some serious retcon this fall.

I've been making stuff and writing stuff. The writing stuff—that's new. Half of what I was saying in my Late Bloomer show is that I can't/don't write anymore. Yesterday I realized that I'm 80 pages into a book I didn't know I was writing.

Again, I'm looking forward to THAT blog post, but dragging through this one. My inner artist was itching to create, trying to capture life's chaos and delights like a squirrel hoarding nuts. When I don't have energy to be in the hot closet I call a studio, I've been doing a lot of little paintings on upcycled matting board scraps I get for free or super cheap from the guy who owns Berry's Stationers. [I assume he is the actual Berry himself.]

Blogging? Not so much.

Also, I was and am still processing the Late Bloomer art exhibit. I have Big Feelings. But fear not, I've got some photos to share. I wish I'd snapped more and that they looked like something out of a glossy magazine, but hey, I never claimed to be Jasper Johns.

The opening night was a creativity celebration with over 35 (Bowdoinham is a small town in Maine, you guys) guests, including friends, family, and local art lovers. The atmosphere was lively with laughter and conversation. As attendees explored my exhibit, I valued hearing their varied interpretations.

Art is personal; some found solace in the soft colors, while others connected with themes of journey and healing. Still others were caught up in the spirituality aspect, celebration of the divine feminine, getting lost in the dreamscape. Connecting with visitors was the highlight.

I shared the inspiration behind each piece, discussing (somewhat) how life experiences influenced my art, allowing visitors to understand the narratives in my work. I also explained my creative process in some detail, providing insights into the various techniques and materials I employ throughout my work.

For Late Bloomer, there was a lot of pastel, mica, gold leaf, alcohol ink. Lather, rinse, repeat if necessary. The pastels truly have a Goddessy vibe; and I found that women in particular connect with my work in that particular medium.

I don't mean to generalize, but it seems like guys aren't as into my art.

There's a music studio adjacent to the gallery. This gentleman found the kit; we didn't see him for an hour.

They're so nice about it, though, and many asked how I restore vintage frames, so I talked a lot about Rub 'n Buf, struggles with wiring, and the age old question of whether or not glazier's pins are passe. And how it's worth it to pay for someone to paper the back of your stuff if you're going to use an antique frame, as they're so hard to do work on; the old wood really wants to snap. Then you just gotta cross your fingers they sell so you can break even and afford to make more art.

The Veil. Sold. One of the frames I thrifted and restored.

Ultimately, sharing insights into my creative process not only enhances the understanding of the artwork itself but also fosters an appreciation for the significant effort and dedication involved in each piece. It demonstrates that the process is attainable.

In the Company of Stars.

I described how my pastel work begins by applying a layer of pastel and massaging it with both hands into the mixed media paper, then gradually erasing it until the image emerges, all while maintaining a dreamlike, meditative state. Only once the image has fully emerged is any drawing done on the piece. It is all taken away, not added to. It is akin to sculpting, but on paper.

Then the spray fixatif. Then more layers. Eventually there will be spray mica. And several days later, if you're feeling gold leaf, then we look at that option. When I talk with viewers about painting, ideally they will connect with the artwork on a more personal level and then go MAKE it. I aspire for them to create spiritual art and experience the tactile engagement of having their hands covered in pastel dust. I want colorful, dirty, sparkly handprints on all the walls. Smudgy faces make way for free spirits. I'm so excited to start teaching women's workshops next year.

Late Bloomer. The titular piece!

The reception was a sugar rush of awesomeness... family, friends, acquaintances, and a gaggle of "New People I Really Like." My sneaky little "slap a nametag on at the door" trick was genius—not just because I’m terrible with names, but it turned everyone into social butterflies. It’s way easier to chat up a stranger when you know their name. With names, we’re practically besties, right? Names are like magic spells. Naming paintings? Now that's a real boss battle, harder than actually painting them, amirite? Maybe some art lady is reading this and nodding, like a few years from now. Except by then, they'll be browsing on a Squarespace page instead of Wix...assuming I can crack the code to move all the blog entries over. Let me know if you know someone.

Okay, maybe I know these people.

But I digress.

Being Maine, there were several cases of it turning out that so-and-so's so-and-so went to SCHOOL with so-and-so or MARRIED so-and-so which pretty much means we're related. This is why I love being a Mainer. There's the whole six-degrees of separation (or Kevin Bacon) rule, but here it's maybe one degree of separation. I'd say half of a degree. That's Rach math.

As I explore new paths, my artistic voice is becoming clearer, and my confidence is growing. The exhibit has spurred this growth, encouraging me to take risks and embrace the unknown in my art. This renewed passion drives me to pursue my creative dreams with enthusiasm.

The journey through Late Bloomer was transformative, filled with unexpected turns which enriched my artistic practice. I'm excited to see where this passion will lead as I continue to create and connect with the world through my art.

Thank you, Mom, for my bouquet. The thumbnail didn't do it justice. xoxo

I also want to express my gratitude to everyone at Merrymeeting Arts Center who supported me during their busy summer with my Late Bloomer baby. To Ruth, for reaching out in the first place; holy moly...thank you for taking a chance on me. To Nan and Drew, helping me hang up the heavies was a lifesaver, seriously what the heck would I have done? This journey was challenging yet rewarding, and your support, encouragement, and humor was crucial. You were my touchstones, and kindness stays with us for always and always. Nan and Drew are responsible for making THIS happen with me:

I'll put up more individual pics of these paintings later. Maybe. At some point.

There were some bumpy moments. Late Bloomer turned into performance art about resilience and adaptability. I spent months crafting a narrative in three parts, only to rework it two days before the show due to....unexpected last-second changes beyond my control.

Call up your power. Sport your Big Girl Pants or Magical Red Cloak

As for the 'quick sales' retrospective salon wall I’d planned? Gone, replaced with three GIANT .cabinets of pottery. Well, I learned I could completely rewrite and restage a show in two days, learn new ways to utilize limited space, and even create a "temp show" which could be broken down after one evening. See below: Snapshots from the upper gallery which wouldn't be Late Bloomer, but I needed to put up something quick --for the opening so we wouldn't have barren space-- that I could tear down the next day for the pop-up pottery show which would last through July. That colorful face is a tapestry with a print of my art, and...I think it worked. Card tables with vintage tablecloths, antique easel, antique rocker in another corner with on-brand lace and flowers (some fresh, some silk) everywhere. Tricky set-up, easy tear-down. That, my friends, is when experience staging craft fair booths comes in handy. Happy twist? The painting, Phoenix [beautiful golden girl on round table] I used as a "decoration" -- she was torn on the way there and couldn't be in the show, proper-- was purchased while leaning in the front hall the next day. I'd forgotten to bring her out to the car. She found a happy home.

A pop-up show. Little Budder?

See, the thing is, I took this exhibit way too seriously, and there's no reason anyone else should have or would have understood I was Going Through Something. I get that. Anyone who knows me knows my brain "works differently". I experience things deeply, intensely, and sometimes am over-the-top about everything going perfectly when it's really not a huge deal in the big-- or even the small-- picture. My enthusiasm about Mundane Things sometimes makes others uncomfortable; I can not read social cues. It's a multi-layered neuroatypical walk I walk, and iykyk.  I get beyond anxious and stressed when situations don't go the way I pictured them, or I feel unprepared. The Late Bloomer story mattered SO much to me as a teller of what the story was, as the artist who painted it, and as the wanderer who traveled it. Like it meant crying in the car over enormous, ugly cabinets that looked like high school trophy cases kind of mattered. I'm being vulnerable, here.

Being vulnerable, here. Under My Wing. Pardon photo quality.

Back to the Little Miss Sunshine narrative voice, now. Below is HannaHanna. She will be our sunshine.

HannaHanna in the Land of Milk and Honey.

Okay, Pollyanna is BACK! The mini-pieces and prints for the salon wall that had to stay home? Well, I picked up an two art fairs to compensate for the missed financial opportunity, so there was the $1500 I'd hoped for (granted a hella lot more work, but I did find a way). Not to mention inspo for the next blogpost. And while I had to swallow my pride when my solo exhibit became less 'solo,' I learned a lot about clear communication, what questions to ask, and—like Don Miguel Ruiz wrote—never make assumptions. Also-also, I ended up putting together and hosting the entire reception by myself from groceries and drinks, right down to retro punchbowl and flowery vintage decor. For someone who considers herself an introvert with no Martha Stewart qualities, I think I pulled it off with grace, aplomb, and a killer last-second punch recipe [psst...three bags frozen mixed berries in a giant punchbowl, dump two liters of ginger ale on top]. It looks like I get to add "event planner" to my CV now. That's a free Masterclass, right there!

I am still finding my voice. The title of my show was Late Bloomer, after all.

Reflecting on the summer, I see how transformative it has been. The preparation, late nights, and moments of self-doubt were part of a larger tapestry that culminated in the exhibit. Each decision and interaction enriched the experience.

I hope you enjoyed a glimpse into this particular leg of my artistic journey. Looking ahead, I'm excited about upcoming projects and collaborations.

Your engagement inspires me to push creative boundaries and explore new themes.

Thank you for being part of this adventure; your support means more than I can express, and I look forward to sharing more stories and experiences with you.

~~ Rachel