A New Semester Begins at Heartwood College of Art

Below is a recent piece that I finished, a three dimensional model for an installation
about military recruitment.

Let's Make a Deal
Shanna Wheelock, 2011
3D model for installation, 36" x 24" x 12"
Wood, ceramic, fabric, paper, acrylic paint, found object

Let's Make a Deal

(front side, view from top)

Let's Make a Deal: Curtain #1

Let's Make a Deal: Curtain #2

Let's Make a Deal: Curtain #3

Let's Make a Deal
(backside, view from top)

This week marks the beginning of my fifth semester in the Heartwood College of Art MFA program. I have spent the past couple weeks working out some new ideas and soon I will be able to step into the studio to begin the physical manifestation of my visualizations. It's kinda funny how the process works. Two weeks ago I felt solid about my plan, but then my mentors chimed in with their thoughts and it gets me to rethinking everything. Ultimately, the decision becomes my own, but there's just enough of a curve ball to make me doubt, then eventually come to a space where I once again feel comfortable with my (sometimes altered) direction. The thing about direction, though, is that it can change in a flash. Sometimes we choose this way or that, and sometimes we are veered by another force. Much of life is a combination of both.

Joining the program at Heartwood has had profound effects on my thinking and actions as an artist, teacher, and human being. A program such as this is NOT your typical educational experience where you step into a classroom, listen to a lecture, take notes, then recall facts for an exam. It is unfortunate that much of education is that way. Instead, with the MFA program at Heartwood, we are forced to think and create our own path. We have mentors who guide us in the process, who provide an immense amount of feedback, and offer an objective eye. It's easy, as the artist, to be too attached to your work and idea that you can forget that other eyes see and interpret your work in different ways. Art is, after all, a powerful form of communication, and we all know how lines of communication can get tangled!

So, I am beginning a new semester and am eager to jump into the materials. I have two spaces in which I do most of my creating - one being the dark 'neath earth dingy, clay-dust clad cave where I sit at the wheel or sculpt with clay. The other space, in much contrast, is part of my home - a favorite nook with a futon where I can get warm and cozy while I sketch, research, and write. I hop between the various spaces depending on which part of the process is on tap for the moment. The past few days I have spent time reorganizing my spaces, clearing out the supply closet, and taking inventory, all the while allowing the art images to flow through my mind. I have a couple of sculptural goals this spring, one being to create an installation piece for an upcoming show in June, and the other to work with a specific color. Color. Such a simple concept, right? Well, color is what I would consider one of my personal areas of struggle. I am very much comfortable with form, which makes sense since I am a sculptor. It will be interesting to see the path my work takes this semester. It's always a surprise for me. No matter how attached I feel to a plan, inevitably, things change along the way.

I will still continue to hone my skills as a juggler in the circus of life. Yep. Multitasking at its finest. I am bumping up production with my pottery and setting new goals, balancing my sculptor and potter self with my teacher self, all the while continuing to teach art in public school.

One of the major pluses about the MFA program at Heartwood is that it is both part-time and low residency. It's not an online course even though I use email for some correspondence between campus meetings. Rather, it is a program where we meet on campus twice a semester for intensive seminar weekends and presentation critiques. The schedule was specifically created for people just like me, who might be teaching or working some other job. Luckily most students in my pod are teachers and we not only support each other in our teaching roles, but we work on a similar timeline. It's perfect for the self-motivated working artist who needs flexibility in scheduling. Two courses a semester is half a full time MFA program so it takes a bit longer to get my MFA, but I couldn't imagine trying to handle a full time program on top of my other work commitments.

Speaking of commitments, I am continuing my work with Lubec Arts Alive and we are getting ready to begin planning for this next summer's event. Some of our committee members (well, more than half!) are in other locations for the winter months so it will be a gentle re-entry into community planning mode until everyone is back in town and on board. Time to get the binder organized and go over last years event to see what goals should be set for future, and check in on the financials. I love community organizing - but absolutely hate fundraising. Luckily - our community has been very generous with supporting artistic endeavors - both financially and with volunteering. Thank you!!!!!

It's a quiet Sunday morning so far. Mom has been visiting us here downeast. We've enjoyed a relaxed schedule and time to talk. Meals have been a notch above the typical food prep in our kitchen, and that has been quite enjoyable. (see pic below). Today she heads back home to central Maine - where life moves at a different pace with lots of traffic, strip malls, hordes of people, and appointments. Winter in Lubec is a whole different experience. Hopefully she heads home feeling well-rested and rejuvenated. Me, I'll snuggle into that futon for a reading and sketch session then head down into my cave to see what kind of earthly mess I can get myself into.

Link to Cobscook Pottery on Facebook - become a fan!

link to: Bouli's Fan Page on Facebook

Many years off and on as a vegetarian I have succumbed to culinary pleasures recently that include four legged, winged, and finned beings. The guilt was particularly piqued two nights ago when talking to the little lobster before she met her unfortunate demise. While I felt a certain degree of guilt before, during, and after consuming the sweet crustacean, Bouli did not exhibit one iota of remorse. Turns out she quite enjoys lobster and makes no apologies for it.

And - for you poetry buffs out there..some links about my husband's writing.....

link to Bangor Daily article
http://bangordailynews.com/2012/01/03/living/lubec-poet-wins-national-competition/

link to chapbook:
http://themedullareview.com/Chris_Crittenden_Chap.html

Lastly, a link to an interview with Chris that was recorded and archived last summer by Jane Crown's Poetry Radio. Ecellent interview. takes about 15-20 minute before the conversation gets rolling with some excellent poetically philosophical banter...it's an hour long....but well worth the listen.
http://www.janecrown.com/show_download_page.html

Sliding in the Holidays

Interior support structure for "American Dream" sculpture.

My messy studio with a nest of tables for various projects that were in progress.

Chris at the International Gingerbread Competition....appearing very serious with his judge's clipboard.

It's a lazy Sunday morning for me. A strange feeling indeed. I have been working nonstop for the past few months whilst juggling teaching, pottery production, and MFA work. I now have a small (very small!) window of time for holiday prep and festivical (yes, I made that word up) enjoyment. MFA presentations occurred last weekend, Christmas break is upon us, and pottery production just ended for 2011 as of Friday evening. This morning I did not hurry to rise from bed and am taking refuge in a small toasty warm room, still garmented in PJ's, to write my long overdue blog posting.

The past few weeks were the big push to finish up three sculptural projects. I finally finished them last week only to realize that none of them are 100% done. Maybe it's like this most artists? Even when nearing the finish line, I think of things that I would have done differently, or an addendum that could enhance the meaning of the piece. Conceptually, these projects were forming long ago, months in advance. The hands are usually happy to take over and start forming what is only a vision in mind's eye. This was perhaps the most challenging MFA semester for me so far in that my visual kept changing throughout the project. I would feel certain at one point about a specific color or composition, only to find my hands defying the mind when picking up a brush or tool. I literally changed direction several times without consciously planning to do so. Parr for the course I suppose. But it is wild that in a course of a few minutes, despite a months'-long plan to do something a certain way, changes in a flash without preconceived notion. And, more amazingly, I felt at peace with the final result despite the lack of brooding of commitment to a decision.

So, I have three unfinished "finished" sculptures in my studio waiting for the next steps. For now though, a couple weeks of resting the mind so that I can focus on time with family and friends.

Chris and I have been enjoying holiday celebrations and traditions. We had a blast as judges for the International Gingerbread Competition. (sounds hoity toity, doesn't it?!) The annual newsletter has been typed and is making its way into cards long overdue in mailing. Friday night we watched with joy the students at school perform in "Midsummer Nights' Dream", and before I left school on Thursday afternoon, I set-up the art room for this coming Monday's Craft Day where kids will make candy cane reindeer and greeting cards. Today I continue with greeting cards (much later than usual!!!) and loading the kiln for the final pottery production of 2011. The house has been cleaned a bit deeper than usual, and soon traditional confections will be baked. A trip to the market is planned in the next couple days to purchase items for the German dish Rouladen, a most delicious recipe that I stole from childhood dinners with the Raymond family.

All is well at the Wheelock/Crittenden homestead. We are hoping for some snow but won't hold our breath. Enjoying the darkness but looking forward to Solstice with the returning light.

It is time for me to formally "wake-up", shower, open the shop, and get on with holiday prep.

I am signing off for the remainder of 2011 with a wish for everyone to enjoy a safe and joyous holiday season (Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, Christmas, New Year!!!!).

Blessings for Peace.
A short song to inspire people of all backgrounds to find common ground this holiday season.

Grass for Sarah

Grass for Sarah

Woven copper and wool, copper tubing, linen warp
by Shanna Wheelock, 2011

The last few weeks have rolled by quickly with a multitude of deadlines and long drives, thus my absence from blog world. Time is always shorter than the list of things to get done, it seems. I am breathing a bit easier now, though, since my MFA semester work has been passed-in. The long drive back from Kennebunk last weekend offered hours of reflection on accomplishments, gratitude, and goals.

While on the road I was able to visit family and spend a day in Portland enjoying art and some slow-paced browsing. If you are in that neck of the woods definitely check out the biennial show at the Portland Museum of Art. I thought it was one of the best that I had seen.

Over the next couple weeks or so I will post two new sculptures, but for now, will begin with a woven work that has had me on a journey of discovering information about one of my ancestors: my great-grandmother Sarah. The last blog entry that I wrote three weeks ago outlined some of my experiences during this quest.

The discovery that Sarah was a weaver who had a deep reverence for nature inspired the piece pictured above. From the tidbits of information that I found in the New York Times, she was working with grass on crash fiber. It was considered a new and interesting material choice for her. I decided, for my own piece, to focus on the word "grass" and to weave with a new material that I had not used before: copper wire. I am not certain what "crash" is, but from the definition that I found, it sounded similar to linen warp string.

Throughout the whole process, I felt my great-grandmother's presence. I imagined what colors she would have chosen, or how she would have ordered the 25 individual panels that were eventually pieced together. I wondered if copper ever had significance for her being a jeweler. She lived on a plantation with sheep. Did she use wool from those in her own weaving work? Did she help her husband Henry sheer the sheep? And did she then card and spin that wool? Were her hands as sore as mine after a day of weaving?

Each day I would finish a component of the work but each day I still did not know how the tapestry would end up in its final concoction. The mystery unfolded only after moving through numerous transformations. Eventually the panels formed long strips of green and copper that flowed from a frame of copper tubing.

"Grass for Sarah" became more than just woven panels spliced together. Emotions were intense and in talking about the process and why certain decisions were made, Chris said to me that they way I described the piece sounded like a "Transformation Tapestry."

I started making "Transformation Tapestries" in 2007 after my Nana died. The tapestry, made with her clothing, was a venue for grief resolution as well as a commemoration and celebration of her life. Since then, I have made others, not only to represent the deceased, but other life transitions as well.

I felt that "Grass for Sarah" was guided by Sarah's spirit, through my hands, as a Transformation Tapestry in honor of her daughter Amy, who drowned only a few months before Sarah herself died. I thought of how Sarah was an incredibly strong woman, having lost two children but still managing to raise two others and still continue to progress as an artist. She must have spent many of her days with a deep sadness, and at the time of Amy's death, I thought that perhaps she had not yet fully processed that loss when her own death occurred.

Finishing "Grass for Sarah" was one of those big exhale moments. The process had consumed my thoughts since the morning of April 1st, and the physical labor demanded over one hundred twenty hours, the bulk of which was input during April vacation. There were lots of cuts and scrapes and sore fingers and moments of "starting over". There are at least 11 panels that did not make it onto the final piece and the frame was built three times. But all was a necessary part of the process and nuggets of ideas have been sparked for future pieces.

The song by John Hiatt, "Through Your Hands" makes me think of my journey with "Grass for Sarah", and also of all the other incredible things that come from our hands - from a child's art, to penning a poem, playing a musical instrument, building a house, healing, loving, baking, planting.......

powerful to think how our hands are conduits for the creative thoughts and ideas that come from our souls....

Out of the Snow and Into the Studio

Got a wee bit of snow a few days ago...

Current sculpture in progress

This past week has kept me fairly focused in the studio. Yet another snow day allowed time to work on a new sculpture. This one, when finished, will reach over three feet tall and is quite hefty. Throwing and wedging the larger-than-usual clumps of clay left me fearing I had permanently damaged my stomach muscles, but a few days later all returned to normal, noting to myself that I better be a bit more careful next time!!!

Creating artwork is not always fun. Just like with any job, there are parts that you enjoy and there are parts that you despise. Not that I fully despise any part of working with clay, but there are definitely some things that are more "grunt work" than pleasurable. Wedging is always a source of discomfort. It is taxing on my shoulders and takes quite a bit of time to get all those unruly clumps and lumps back into a smooth, workable ball. With the current sculpture, I spent perhaps equal time researching and sketching as I did forming the structure. The part that I do love, though, is carving. This particular piece is carving-intensive so I was in all of my glory for a few hours while I toggled from tool to tool to get the look and feel of my vision. Now I wait (hope/pray) that it survives the kiln firing so that the next phase of the process may occur.

In between shoveling last week's storm, I spent hours holed-up in my "cave". Chris said to me that I must really have a passion for what I do when I am willing to spend several hours in a cold, damp, concreted space below the earth, and actually crave and enjoy it. I never thought of it like that before, but when you break it down, yeah, it is kinda strange.

Amazingly, I am comfortable in that space, engulfed in messy, dry clay dust and mounds. For someone who seeks the just-so feng shui feeling of a home space, it is kind of odd that I don't pay attention to the lack of "homeyness" in the basement. Maybe it has something to do with being in a space that is natural to clay; deep within the earthen underground. Or maybe I am just so enthralled by the project at hand that my peripheral vision ceases and I am completely zoned into the form that is before me.

I probably shouldn't try to hard to understand it all.

A bit of rain this morning sunk the snowy yard and has created a new ice rink. It's like last week's "Snowmageddon" never occurred. Chris narrowly averted the intense shoveling schedule, boasting of sunny skies and warm temps while taking his afternoon walk with his father in California. He somehow dodged all flight delays, once again, upon his return to Maine on Friday. Bello and I are glad to have him back home with us. Now, I'm just hoping for another massive snowstorm so that he may experience the endless shoveling as I did this past month. I wouldn't want him to feel left out of all the fun, afterall!

I have some things to tend to over the next two to three weeks and suspect that I will not have a chance to blog. If you don't see a post next time you check in, just keep checking back. All should return to the regular normally scheduled life routine by the end of the month.

Hope all you romantics out there have a memorable St. Valentine's Day! (or at least your fill of quality chocolate confections!!!!)

Seasons and Routines Changing

Apples will be harvested today for homemade apple sauce

A spike pot from the Machine Series sold this week and is off to its new home in San Fransisco. This was one of the earlier pieces that I created in the series. With some artworks it is hard to say good-bye, but I met the collector and feel confident that this piece is where it is meant to be.

The most recent glaze firing (Friday, pre-Tropical Storm Earl) produced gorgeous greens and blues.

This glass case from David Brooks Goldsmith's (Hallowell) found a new home in the Cobscook Pottery and Fiber shop in Lubec. I love David Agronick's work and treasure my ring that he designed. Hallowell is losing a landmark business, but I'm glad to hear that David Brooks will still be designing, but from his personal studio rather than the downtown business.

Close-up of the new display case in the shop, showing here a new collector's series spike pot and a couple of my sister's creations from her jewelry business The Indigo Iris.

One of Kristin's (The Indigo Iris) pieces for sale in my shop - a beautiful coral fossil, fresh water pearl, and nautilus necklace with matching earrings.

Hurricane Earl swept through as a tropical storm and seemed to bring with him the seasonal change a couple weeks early. Last week's mid 90's scorching temps had us fooled into thinking that summer would never end. Come Sunday, it was too brisk to leave the kitchen door open and the warmest of socks needed to be retrieved from the over-bulged bureau upstairs. With change of season, also comes change of routines.

During the summer I am focused on primarily pottery production to keep the shop stocked. A constant flow of guests are in and out or we are on the road to visit family and friends. I wake each morning naturally, sometimes at 3:00 a.m., or sometimes 7:00. There is always a long list of what needs to be done but there is an impromptu quality that I relish.

Just before the official start of fall, routines are once again solid. The alarm is set for 5:30 a.m. and I am off to school to teach art to most all the children in this community. After school, I return home to tend to the business, and also to work on my Heartwood classes. The summer morning walks are now late afternoon jaunts and evening supper is set to a consistent time, as well as prep for the next day: lunch packed, clothes selected, and items gathered that I might need for a lesson.

This may seem a bit crazy to some, but I enjoy the changes. I don't mind that summer wanes and that soon it will be dark by late afternoon instead of 9:30 at night. I look forward to nor'easters and hunkering down by the warm fire while I watch out the window at swirling snow and swaying trees. But until that time is here, I will take advantage of the warming sun and the delights of autumn in Lubec.

Yesterday Chris and I hiked at West Quoddy. We watched the waves comb and rift with ferocity, greeted a pup seal that peeked its head by the shore, who just as amusingly watched us for a few moments. The birds were out in mass: honking Canadian geese, cranes, plovers, eagles, and others we did not recognize. The walk was the perfect end to a busy day of writing and sculpting.

Today has a full agenda as well for both of us, but we will also take the time this afternoon to harvest some apples to cook and can homemade sauce. Our garden, planted a month late, did not produce as much as we had hoped, but being our first garden, it has been an educational experience that will help us plan for next summer's crop. Basil has grown in abundance and we have enjoyed many batches of fresh pesto. Tomatoes, swiss chard, peppers, sage, cilantro, dill, tarragon, and thyme seem quite happy here. Something chowed the broccoli and none of the squash made it, except for one sort-of pathetically small spaghetti squash. Green beans are growing faster than we can eat, so we decided to can some of them. We discovered that a HUGE pile of green beans does not amount to very much when canned. But it was our first canning experience and we needed to begin somewhere.

The past week was busy but settled. The week before I was out of town with a family emergency. That event put a lot of things into perspective for me, as to what is really important in our lives. Know what is precious in your life and never take those things for granted. We never know for certain what the universe has in store for us, so be sure to live each day thoughtfully and with meaning.

I was glad to return to Lubec after almost two weeks away, to see Chris and Bello, and to be in my studio, creating, and in Lubec, celebrating the beauty of this magical place.

Before I sign off, I want to mention a couple of things going on around here. A lot of folks who pass through my shop are sort of out-of-loop on all the events that are happening. I always suggest that they check in with the visitor center/tour stop located at the Historical Society building. Ruta and her gang offer a wealth if information. The Visit Lubec Maine website is also run by this business.

A great resource for all events cultural and artistic is Culture Pass. If you go to their website you can subscribe to the listserve. Every Sunday you will receive an email listing all the events from St. Andrews down through to Campobello Island. This are is rich with culture. If you are thinking of visiting I suggest you sign on.

Two Countries One Bay Art Studio Tour
Culture Pass sponsors the Two Countries One Bay Art Studio Tour. That is coming up in two weekends, September 18-19, 2010. It is an annual event where you can tour through artist studios in both Canada and Maine. It is an often rare glimpse into the working lives of artists and should not be missed. I have been on the tour for four years now and look forward to the weekend and meeting some many wonderful, curious people. It's a great time to visit the artists, since they usually have some yummy goodies and interesting demonstrations happening those two days. I usually have supplies for folks to weave on the outdoor Earth Loom. I have another plan in mind too and will see if that develops, time permitting.

Last winter I hosted figure drawing sessions with pregnant model Anne Grant of Eastport. Anne also modeled in Eastport at Heidi Reidell's studio. The drawings that were created by artists throughout Anne's pregnancy and post-birth with baby Cecelia are currently being exhibited in Eastport at Heidi Reidell's Gallery/Studio. Please read the press release below and head on over to check out the show!

The Art of Life
Reidellevison Ink's Eastport School of Arts/Catbird Seat Gallery
Eastport, Maine
Through Sept. 24, 2010
Open 10-5 Tuesday-Sunday

The Art of Life show of drawings, sketches and some finished works depicting an entire pregnancy cycle and mother and child will continue at Reidellevision Ink's Eastport School of Arts and Catbird Seat Gallery #3 Dana Street in the Masonic Block in Eastport until September 24th. Gallery hours are 10 a.m. to 5 p.m Tuesday through Sunday.

This exhibit , showing model Anne Shields Grant in all stages of her child's development, and with infant model Cecilia, ( who modeled at three and four months of age,) shows the work of Bonnie Beard,Jean Bookman, and Shanna Wheelock of Lubec, Barbara Kendall of Calais, Kristie of Deer Island, and Arthur Cadieux, Elizabeth Ostrander, Patricia Johnson, Susan Bailey, Joyce Weber, Alice Bragdon and Heidi Reidell of Eastport .

It is rare to have an opportunity to draw and sketch a single individual throughout these human changes. Throughout the winter, Anne alternated between Shanna Wheelock's North Lubec Road studio and Heidi Reidell's Boynton Street apartment, offering life drawing opportunities.

Come celebrate the arrival of the beautiful Cecilia, and gaze at the wonder that is new life in the making.