I may be the only person who is glad to know that Summer is behind us and Fall is in full swing. Summer is my least favourite season.
She gets an unfair knock from me though because she heightens my struggle between artwork and ranch work. She heightens my resistance to doing artwork and throws in an extra dose of guilt whenever I’m not outdoors getting something done.
Any artwork accomplished in the summer is hard fought. I’ve been letting myself swing between felting and painting and not worrying which should be a priority because if I’m in the studio it’s a win. I’ve taken a dive into water color painting as something new to learn and be challenged with, and because I know I want to do something similar to drawing again. I am intrigued with watercolor painting even with all the beginner struggles I am having, particularly with painting white subjects like sheep and guardian dogs. And doing paintings outside of the sketchbook, which the one below is, is still very novel and tentative.
I am not sure I really believed the Felted Flock would sell but I did hope for that outcome. Now that outcome has become reality, and I feel many things, including amazement and a good dollop of pride.
In case you have forgotten all about it, the Felted Flock is a collection of needle felted sheep and other animals who hang around them and/or are needed by them. The general intention behind creating was to share the voluminous story of growing wool and to highlight where fibre comes from. It was a two year art project that I finished December 2022.
Here’s the scoop on the sale. Earlier this year I was approached by an employee from SK Arts and after several back and forth exchanges Sask Arts made an offer to purchase half of the number of felted sheep along with every supporting character – so the guardians dogs, the stock dog, the fox, the coyote, the shearers, the shepherd, the crows, the magpies, and the wee cowbird. The new home for this downsized version of the felted flock is the Permanent Art Collection of Saskatchewan.
This sale means that the felted flock collection is archived and inventoried in an art collective, and when it’s not being shown it is held in storage by an organization with that capability. It took me about a week to decide on the sale and while there were a few terms and conditions to be navigated it felt right the whole way through and the process was rather seamless. The first showing of the flock is planned for this summer/fall in Regina, SK. And because it resides in the permanent art collection, the Felted Flock is also available for any provincial gallery to rent for exhibition, and vignettes are available to be used as part of group shows.
Upon hearing the news friends have asked if it was hard to sell and the answer is yes and no. It was exciting to make the sale; a sale such as this is an amazing opportunity and nearly every artist’s dream. What was hard was letting go of my vision for the felted flock and allowing a new vision to reside in someone else’s hands. Because from here on, where and how the collection is set up and shown is in someone else hands. That is still hard and may always be hard, I don’t know. But I am eased with having the felted sheep that did not go with the collection to now do with as I please. And since these are no longer part of the felted flock I feel free to give them a new creative outlook. And so that is what I am doing. I am giving them a new look and making them into the prairie sheep collective. A couple of these are already on display at the Watrous Art Gallery and more will most likely head off to an art boutique in Saskatoon. I’ll share their makeover here on the blog as well so stay tuned.
A prairie dweller, a keeper of sheep, a devoted fan of working dogs, an artist, and a wanna be writer…. I attempt at least one of these things on any given day, and occasionally I manage to be all of them.
The longer I practice creating the more difficult it is for me to come up with any deep philosophical artist statement that rings true. I make repeated attempts to capture prairie life and moments with the animals around me and put them onto paper or felt them into being with wool, and once in awhile succeed.
I entered a handful of those successes into an adjudicated art show at the local gallery this past May where they received the equivalent of honorable mention, worthy of showing. What is more interesting though is the critique received. The criticism was precisely on point with the hiccups I felt when making each piece. My hiccups are felt as a drop in the gut, short and quick, and easily missed if not paying attention. At the time of making I felt the hiccup but did not recognize a solution because I couldn’t quite nail down what the hiccup was in the piece, or I didn’t want to, – I needed to get pieces done in time. I negated the nudge.
I’ve come to thoroughly enjoy adjudicated art shows for the critique. Dissecting the art is a reminder of how meaning is conveyed, or how it misses the mark, and that both inklings pass across the ether to complete strangers. It is a marvel to watch artwork at work in this way. It reminds me of all the times this place, this landscape of our farm and flock, has had an affect on people who visited it. It is affirmation of the importance of artwork in our lives.
Paint what you love is the oft given advice and I have taken that to heart. My artwork and my livelihood are closely aligned. Writing, drawing and felting are not work per se; certainly not the work that the real flock is. Instead these pursuits are reason and purpose to help me face and fulfill each day in this place that is plump with nature but empty of people, empty of response to the work. Even on the days when every creative attempt woefully misses the mark there is satisfaction of having shown up to try again; because trying is reaching for the ether itself and aiming to exist there.