Our world is full of color, but painter Carol Beth Icard distills her palette into hues redolent of earth, fire, sky and sea. Using oils mixed with cold wax, Carol layers the buttery mixture onto clayboard to build a luminous surface. Whether on a 6x6-inch or 36x36-inch substrate, the created effect is earthily familiar yet dreamily expansive. I will refer you to her own words, to her images best viewed in person, of course, but in lieu of this, on her website and blog. 

Artists are able, I suppose because of the nature of our work, to get to the heart of matters. When I visit Carol in Landrum, I know this is a dialogue we have anticipated via 1-1/2 years of email. In her dining room, Carol is surrounded by the artwork of colleagues, like being wrapped - as she expresses the sensation - "in the arms of friends." We smile; I feel the same in my own home. We progress toward her studio with hot tea to warm the slight chill of a November day. As we pass a large, colorful, atmospheric painting in the hallway, I do not suppress my initial reaction to compare her work to that of a 19th-century artist, and pose the question, "Do you like Turner?". Carol smiles in the affirmative.

Carol and I learn that we both have been nontraditional students, those who return to college in maturity; that we appreciate each other's work; that artist residencies are pivotal points in our artistic development (Carol's in Italy, mine in Paducah, KY); and that we are clear and confident in our focus, in our process. "Trust" is another way to phrase this. This is not to say that artists who trust their own voice are cocky, indifferent or egotistic. Rather, the critical voice of insecurity has been acknowledged and not invited to linger. Carol exudes a clarity around this, alongside an easy smile. We discuss the evolution of art processes and choices of media; art auctioned at fundraisers; the Spartanburg, Greenville, and Tryon art scenes; open studios; galleries; exhibits; prints versus originals; books; and more. 

Two hours have flown; tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and we part by exchanging business cards. Carol's are Moo cards; traditional-sized two-sided business cards, one side printed with any number of images of Carol's work. She ensures that I leave with a card depicting a detail of a work I have been admiring in her studio (the central painting in the photo above). Carol also gifts me with her book, "The Color of Words: Paintings 2005-2006." But it is the line in italics on Carol's business card that leaves a final imprint: "The finest art in life is gratitude." Perhaps this is the artist's spin on Friederich Nietzsche's quote, “The essence of all beautiful art, all great art, is gratitude.” Both are sentiments worth remembering as I drive the return trip to Greer, thinking of tomorrow, Thanksgiving.

The art section of Books-A-Million in Paducah, KY, is in disarray, with animé books next to fiction books next to...well, you get the picture. With no particular title in mind, I notice what captures my attention. Here it is - "Lee Mullican: An Abundant Harvest of Sun." A detail image of Mullican's 1951 "Space" pulsates, practically radiates off the dust jacket into the bookstore aisle. Why have I never heard of this mid-21st-century painter? 
The book is, in fact, a catalogue accompanying the 2005 Los Angeles County Museum of Art exhibit, "Lee Mullican: An Abundant Harvest of Sun." The exhibit then travels to Grey Art Gallery, New York University, in 2006. A clue in the foreword as to why Lee Mullican is unknown to me, and perhaps many others: he elects to work in Los Angeles during the height of the New York art scene. While the Abstract Expressionists' on the East Coast paint a dissociation from nature, a cadre of West Coast artists acknowledge nature, and tap into Eastern and other non-Western cultures.

For a time, Mullican is an integral member of San Francisco's Dynaton art group that is involved with, in his words, "...the study of nature, and the study of pattern...We were dealing with art as a way of meditation." In the early 1950s - the Alan Watts era, the artist finds Zen influencing his paintings. Perhaps it is his interpretation of what I see as Japanese aesthetic that inexorably draws me to Mullican's work. Nonetheless, for now, I reshelve the book (only to order it later online). The images attract like a magnet.

Among Mullican's early influences is the markmaking of Paul Klee, admittedly a personal favorite of mine. A number of catalogue contributors cite Mullican's military time with topographical mapping as another influence on his later work. But it is the golden glow, the quietly kinetic line work that mesmerizes. And that line work in his oil paintings - a striation technique - arrives when Mullican is handed a printer's ink knife by Greenwood Press's Jack Stauffacher. How fortuitous.

And his "Tactile Ecstatic" sculptures! From 1950-1960 Mullican crafts totemic, shamanistic wall sculptures singularly both delicate and strong. Constructed of painted wood, twigs, string, and feathers, the vertical pieces range in size from 18.5 x 6 x 2.5 inches to 56.75 x 19 x 2 inches. Whether it is Mullican's childhood in Chickasha, OK, or a later affinity with Native American art - as well as pre-Columbian, African, and other non-Western cultures, the references are clearly evident. There are 10 sculptures indexed in the catalogue; I could never imagine enough of them.

Lee Mullican, 1919-1998, and wife Luchita Hurtado (herself once a painter) raise yet another artist, Matt Mullican. I'll let you explore Matt's work on your own, as his sensibility is world's apart from his father's: hypnosis for son; transcendence for father. Filmmaker and son John Mullican creates a 2008 documentary, "Finding Lee Mullican"; do at least check out the trailer.

Have I piqued your interest? I know that Lee Mullican piques mine.

It is almost one year to the day that I first met artist Jocelyn Chateauvert in Charleston, SC. In 2013, I drove from the Upstate (Greenville) to participate in Artist U - a weekend intensive, part of the SC Arts Commission's Artists' Ventures Initiative. Jocelyn drove from Charleston to North Charleston; 28 other multidisciplinary artists arrived from the lowcountry and all points within the state. It was a pivotal, empowering career moment; best to read my November 2013 blog to learn more.

This weekend an arctic chill lingers on spanish moss and rain pocks beach sand; it's atypical. Jocelyn, a self-described "paper wrangler," and I share an immediate affinity due to a common medium, albeit translated uniquely. Jocelyn makes paper, then folds, twists, curls and manipulates the still-wet pulp into rich organic form. To add the descriptor "rich" seems redundant, yet it needs to be spoken because the artist does not replicate her source inspiration as much as imbues it with its own energy. Jocelyn reaffirms that she doesn't reference the source as an actual model. 

By now, if you haven't segued to Jocelyn's website, the question in the air is most likely - what does Jocelyn create? At the moment, flora such as super-sized lily pads, or morning glories suspended by their own paper vines and grouped to form an installation that debuted at Peter Paul Luce Gallery, Cornell College in Mount Vernon, Iowa (Jocelyn's native state). White morning glory blossoms that capture light and cast shadows and, what you cannot experience on the artist's website, that generate sound as they contact each other. A dry rustling of strong, three-dimensional paper.

We climb the staircase in Jocelyn's home to the studio in which she transforms her paper into two- and three-dimensional artwork. I am surprised the studio is not larger, given the scale of her morning glories but, as I also create elements for installations in a small studio, I understand. We pause on a landing, Jocelyn opens a window to reveal a 400-year old tree, and explains this was one of the major appeals in acquiring the house. Later, when we are in Jocelyn's wet studio, she opens a closet door to retrieve a beautiful handmade papermaking frame (mold and deckle), one that will, in her own words, be usable for 300 to 400 years. I am beginning to sense her respect for time, of honoring the legacy of a tree, and even of a tree now crafted into a wooden frame. It feels Japanese to me, an aesthetic and appreciation for the past as it moves into the future.

In the downstairs wing, accessed via an outdoor porch, is Jocelyn's wet studio with paper blender, tubs, mold and deckle (frame), and press. If we had time, we could make paper, Jocelyn exclaims. It is hard not to catch her enthusiasm and yet I feel my hesitancy, only because each new art medium opens a door to endless learning and experimentation. And I tend to focus on my own processes and types of paper (e.g., shoji), wanting to do more, go further, a bit tentative about becoming distracted.

Paper is a fascinating medium; ephemeral yet capable of outliving us, soft and pliable but also crisp and firm. Even in our digital age, we use and encounter paper daily. It is a staple taken for granted but, luckily for the world, is visited with new sensibilities by artists. Like Jocelyn. 

Admittedly I am impressed with Jocelyn's artistic journey: SC Arts Commission’s 2005 Craft Fellow; Smithsonian 2010 Artist Research Fellowship; exhibit and artist talk at 2013 Artfields; paper construction demo at Museo della Carte, Fabriano, Italy, during IAPMA 2014 conference; a recently installed commission "The Space in Between," suspended in the SC State Museum's planetarium; and more. What interests me now is the continuation of Jocelyn's journey: paper that has not been made or manipulated; ideas and nascent forms that have not yet materialized. I won't wait another entire year before rediscovering this artist!

What exactly does this mean: connecting at art auctions? Simply stated: I introduce and reintroduce myself to, and converse with, artists during two art auctions. This interaction Is the best part of each evening. The worst is the discomfort of watching art bids below market value, while artist donors observe. But this is an entirely separate posting, for another time.


At a fundraiser for Greenville Hospital System's Cancer Research Institute, hosted by Frame Warehouse in Greer, SC, I settle into a conversation with photographer Janet Barnes, while appreciatively munching on a slice of her pistachio-coconut cake. Tom Rickis, painter and president of the Artists' Guild of Spartanburg (of which I am a member), is also present and always ready to share Guild news. He is encouraged by the increased level of in-kind donations for the second annual Artists Going Live event, which is a "fundraiser for the arts."

The Artists' Guild of Spartanburg is holding the event at the Chapman Cultural Center in Spartanburg, SC. During my October artist residency in Paducah, KY, I describe Spartanburg as a sister city to Greenville and, although I like to think this is an apt term for the urban centers' relationship, it may be more hope than reality. My experience to date reveals two separate circles of artists with very little overlap, although I'd love for it to be otherwise. Please correct me if this perception is false.

Connecting at art auctions, at the Guild's Artists Going Live: paper artist Carol Funke, pen-and-paper artist John Hill, bead artist Melissa Earley, and painter Deborah Jane Wall. All Guild members demonstrating "live."

Carol Funke is on my list of people to meet, because I seek out artists who work in paper. Carol is a paper maker who reassembles her components into relief-style wall pieces. I am instinctively drawn to her textural white "Circles" - one in a series based on the circle, triangle, and square - and delight when the artist invites me to touch. Only now, back home, do I realize that I missed her handmade paper workshop earlier today at OLLI (Osher Lifelong Learning Institute/Furman University). But I am glad to finally connect the artist with the work.

John Hill arrives tonight with a partially-begun pen drawing that finds its completion well before Artists Going Live is nearing a close. I've missed his live performance but have been drawn (hmmm...pun here?) to his work previously. Upon initial sighting, I conclude - falsely - that his relatively small drawings are computer generated. They are precise, inventive, and a heck of a lot more interesting than zentangles. These technical pen creations are akin to doodles that both wander and congregate, in the manner of dreams. Can I check out your sketchbook one day, John?


Melissa Earley is stitching large black and white beads, creating another in her series of Enlightened philosophers' portraits. The artist shares that she majored in philosophy, likes the pixelation effect generated by the scale of these beads, and the fact that the portraits only reveal themselves at a distance. You'll see on her website how Melissa moves from drawing to painting to beading. And that she also creates portraits with colorful minuscule glass beads - 285 per square inch (!) - using a traditional Native American stitch.

Deborah Jane Wall answers my question before it forms completely: "The black specks are charcoal." The black specks are indeed a dynamic, dimensional aspect of Deborah Jane's painting - an energetic plane of blues, greys, and white. (Sorry, I couldn't locate your Facebook page.) I ask that she talk about the work she has created within the past hour; the artist confides that she was nervous (who wouldn't be, performing extemporaneously?), not knowing what would emerge tonight. I sense that Deborah Jane rode the surfboard of her anxiety confidently over the waves of uncertainty. She is smiling. 

Yes, the best part of art auctions: connecting with artists.

A former student of the Fine Arts Center, the South Carolina Governor's School for the Arts, and the University of South Carolina (BFA), Allison received a strong underpinning to her explorations in sculpture. As with many artists, I met Allison's work prior to meeting the artist, and am impressed with both. Within the organic forms Allison crafts, I sense a barely-contained expandable energy, elegantly raw. The artist used both a live model, and self-generated photos of same, in creating "Hatshepsut" (pictured). During this year's Open Studios at Taylors Mill, Allison (pictured) shared in a passionate voice her love of all things "art." I am pleased that she is sharing her voice via her art and her blog: 
http://www.allisonannebrown.com/blog

I am grateful to textile artist Terry Jarrard Dimond for inviting me to join this blog hop. She in turn received her invitation from Judy Kirpich; the blog hop was initiated by Kathy Loomis. http://studio24-7.blogspot.com, http://unmultitasking.blogspot.com, http://artwithaneedle.blogspot.com.

A blog hop is a vehicle for increasing exposure to artists' blogs and ultimately to the artists themselves. It is a collaborative effort that allows us to introduce ourselves to each other and to the world, and then to highlight another artist. My choice for the "passing of the baton" is the blog of sculptor Allison Anne Brown, a young up-and-coming artist based in Greenville, SC. I've created a separate posting for Allison's photos and a bit more info.

Now to the four questions: What am I working on? How does my work differ from others of its genre? Why do I do what I do? How does my process work?

1.  What am I working on?
Following the month of October as Artist-in-Residence with the Paducah Arts Alliance, Paducah, KY, I am now working on an installation for Greenville, SC. Technically, I am a mixed-media artist who works primarily in paper. I've also been described as a fiber artist. My current choice of paper is shoji: I precoat it before inkjet-printing, then have components, e.g., gingko leaves, die-cut. These are assembled into suspended free-rotating "cocoons." I also use additional media - textiles, metal and wood armatures - any material that achieves the effect I am seeking. That effect is translucency, layering, ephemeral. Each suspension is at a human scale, not overwhelming. As each installation is site-specific, the basic components are reconfigured in relation to the venue, and to the mood of the geo/social location. To explain a bit: Paducah's rivertown pace differs from Greenville's metropolitan pace. The installation in Kentucky reflects the mood of "quiet yet energetic," while the installation in Greenville will offer more "quiet" to counterbalance its urban energy.

2.  How does my work differ from others of its genre?
When people hear that I work in paper, a number of assumptions surface: drawing, folding (origami), and handmade paper. When I am identified as a fiber artist, the assumptions include: textiles, thread, sewing. My work does incorporate a number of these mediums and techniques, but also freely utilizes others. While I continue to create on-the-wall pieces, five years ago I began removing my artwork from the frame. With installations, the work is off the wall and suspends from the ceiling. 

3.  Why do I do what I do?
This is a really good question, because a number of my friends (artists included) do not understand why I create installations. They are labor intensive; they go up, they come down. To date, no one has purchased an installation or part of an installation. I respond: for the experience of the gallery-goer. In October, I created a 9-foot walk-in suspension and discovered its interior peacefulness. Here's a pic with abstract artist Rosemary Claus-Gray inside.Responses by others range from "fun" to "serenity" and, at its premiere in Paducah, KY, gallery-goers were taking cellphone-videos from inside the walk-in as it slowly rotated. The installation as a whole is intended as an oasis from our daily sensory bombardment; an "exhale" moment. 

4.  How does my process work?The work begins as a concept, without preliminary drawings, utilizing a particular set of materials. It proceeds as a "dialogue" between artist and artwork until it appears to  resolve, hopefully before it is overworked. I want the energy involved in the process to remain palpable in the final product. During my residency, I experimented with not only the die-cut gingko leaves but also with their carrier sheets. The play of positive and negative, a layer of machine-lace, an embroidery hoop armature - all resulted in one of the most ephemeral "cocoons" I have created to date. And the most difficult to photograph for this same quality.

Exactly one week following my return home from a month-long artist residency in Paducah, Kentucky, I am reacquainting myself with the artists who reside in Greenville, South Carolina. And meeting new ones. During most First Fridays I have the option of visiting two dozen artists: painters, photographers, sculptors, printmakers, ceramists (also called ceramicists), jewelers, glass, metal, wood, textile and encaustic artists. 

November 7, however, is an unusual night because a number of the artists who regularly participate in First Friday are also active in this year's Open Studios. The events' rules, entry, and fees vary from each other; with the West End of Greenville,Taylors Mill, and Augusta Road as three of the liveliest arts districts. Within each of these you can traverse as a pedestrian, but you need to drive between the areas.

My first stop is a renovated gas station, with a floral designer and fine artist sharing the former auto bays. Sunny Mullarkey McGowan is painter and printmaker, whose enthusiasm and energy seem boundless. I'll put in a plug for her Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for a printing press.

Next stop, across Pendleton Street and a half block away on Aiken Street, is Art & Light Studios with Teresa Roche at the helm. Studios in the West End (also referred to as the Arts District or Village of West Greenville) are housed in renovated two-story frame residential structures, flatiron buildings, and former commercial storefronts, including a bank.

Neighbors sit on front porches, dogs bark, and on Sunday I understand that the church just opposite Art & Light fills the air with exuberant hymns. Tonight, the moon is full, the temperatures are dropping, and First Friday is bustling. With anticipation, I reserve my energy for the weekend's art outings that comprise Open Studios. See you tomorrow.

If there are any complaints about Open Studios, it will not be the weather. Full moon on Friday night followed by sunshine on Saturday. It does require stamina, though, to participate in Open Studios: hosting, meeting and greeting, explaining and demonstrating, fielding queries, marketing, and more. Not to mention potentially standing for a total of 17 hours over three days. Then there are the pre- and post- activities: cleaning and organizing the studio. But it is juicy and the energy flows both ways, all ways, in the best-case scenario. I can speak on this topic, as I was an Open Studios artist in 2013.

Now, to narrow my choice of studios from among the 129 participating artists! I content myself with 18 studio visits, complete with artist conversations, and poke my head into countless others.

It's 10:30am and relatively quiet in the Taylors Mill studio of Bryan Hiott, which allows an informative conversation on how he arrived at recreating 19th-century photographic processes like tintypes and ambrotypes. It was a "time travel" experience to which I cannot do justice, but I can tell you that his portraits are timeless and his creative mind fertile.

The parking lot at Taylors Mill is temporarily inhabited by statewide vendors in the "Savvy Restyle Market," perhaps a symbiotic relationship drawing consumers for both the market and Open Studios.

I once heard the behemoth Taylors Mill described as "that place that looks like Chernobyl." It is not pretty but it is transforming into a creative hub well worth seeking. On the younger side of the talent pool is sculptor Allison Anne Brown whose work displays a maturity beyond her years. I'm featuring Allison in a blog hop later this week. How many visual artists do you know who blog? Allison does and it's an interesting read.

There are two more artists on my list for Taylors Mill, including Shane Bryant, founder of The William Felton School of Crafts. It takes a moment until Shane and I realize that we were co-workers years ago at Kinko's. I remember his art dreams; it is a treat to see them in fruition. Clay is everywhere, invitingly everywhere.

Before leaving Taylors Mill which houses a hopping coffeehouse, entrepreneurial ventures, and increasingly more artists, I return to the studio of Bob Ripley. I say "return" because at last year's Open Studios, Bob invited me to learn about shoji paper - a material he uses in crafting custom shoji screens. It is now a medium in my ouevre of papers, and I want to thank Bob. Due to dealing with building code issues in a number of the studios, Bob is sharing his space with neighboring potter and Open Studio artist Mike Vatalaro. 

Artists I know are generous and collaborative, and usually multitalented. Yes, this is Bob Ripley playing a guitar he built, alongside John Brookshire on bass and Jeff Gadd on keyboard. As I exit through his hand-carved studio door, out of the corner of my eye I catch Bob playing the saxophone. Can it get much better than this?

My next posting is about Open Studios, Saturday afternoon. And then there will be a posting on Open Studios, Sunday. Come join me!

Open Studios on Saturday afternoon is even more enjoyable with artist Kathryn Schnabel. And encountering artistic friends along the way, like Michael Zeimer, a former co-worker at Kinko's. And now Kathryn and Michael are acquainted. It sounds cliché, but "it's all good."

Kathryn and I focus on the West End (also known as the Arts District or Village of West Greenville) discovering and rediscovering. In "the flatiron" - those ingeniously designed pieces of architecture that defy the box and embrace the triangle - are a series of studios that flow into one another through sets of doorways, yet remain separate. Joseph Bradley's painting studio anchors the building's apex, followed by Patricia Kilburg's encaustic studio, Janina Tukarski Ellis's painting studio, and finally the painting studio of husband/wife duo Signe & Genna Grushovenko. Of particular delight is watching the wide-eyed children, perhaps budding artists already.

Strolling down the street, stopping along the way in a vanity gallery, another space more rental-venue than gallery, and then a sit-down restaurant that began as a food truck, alongside a blues café, Kathryn and I make our way to the next destination: the new studio of painters Dabney Mahanes and Denise Waldrep. Dabney shares a highlight of her day: a visit by a former resident of this house-turned-studio. In fact, the space Denise now occupies was once his bedroom as a 10-year old.

Onward to Artbomb! Fourteen years ago, Artbomb was the only art venue in the neighborhood but appropriately named as its artists intended to spark a movement. Today is testimony to the explosive impact.

One last stop: tucked in the neighborhood behind the Greenville County Art Museum is 10 Central Studios. A visit to jeweler and mosaic artist Laura Kennedy Aiken in her business-office-turned-studio highlights the stark contrast, in terms of light (no windows in the studios at 10 Central) and scale (low ceilings and small) to Artbomb. Nonetheless, creativity is not bound by the inches or feet of a wall or ceiling.

Last year I participated in Open Studios, but I missed the touring. It's a sentiment I hear the OS artists expressing today. Hmmm, how to be in two places at once? This will require lots of creative problem solving!

While the Open Studios' "12x12" exhibition awaits like a visual smorgasbord at the Metropolitan Arts Council gallery, my visit needs to be another day. It's time for tea and coffee, and digesting the experience.

It is the Metropolitan Arts Council, along with various sponsors, that makes Open Studios possible for the juried-in artists - 129 this year, and that entices thousands of visitors to embark on the tour - now in its 13th year. To say that Open Studios is a massive endeavor is a bit of an understatement. Although Greenville's is among the many models of annual self-guided studio tours taking place in towns and cities, from Hawaii to the mainland, it is impressive and successful.

I am still wrapping my mind around the unique experience that comprised my October artist residency in Paducah, Kentucky. Due to a civic-funded Artist Relocation Project in 2001, targeted to upgrade the Lowertown neighborhood, the arts community is now congregated within an eight-block area. The artists live, work, and exhibit in their home/studio/gallery spaces. In Greenville, in areas such as the West End, the arts thrive but minus the "residential living" element. For a number of artists, studio is integrated into the home or tangential to it.

Ah, I have another glorious Sunday for visiting Greenville and Travelers Rest. Let the day begin in the residential studio of Garland Mattox, tucked into her Parkins Mill/Cleveland Street neighborhood. The size of Garland's studio belies the size of her large-scale oil paintings - a scale she prefers. For many artists, it is an effort to constrain the natural impulse to "go big" when creating a 12x12-inch showcase piece for the Open Studios exhibition at the MAC. I will count Garland and myself among these.

A short distance away is a former teacher of sculptor Allison Anne Brown, when Allison attended the South Carolina Governors School for the Arts. The home studio and garden of ceramic sculptor Alice Ballard reflect her respect for the natural botanical form. And who do I encounter assisting Alice with Open Studios? Michael Ziemer! 

On the way to Travelers Rest, I am joined by my spouse, Joseph. A curvy-road drive through TR's countryside brings us to the metal-clad studio of a family of artists (recommended by Michael): Jim Campbell, Sharon Campbell, and Jamie Campbell. With Jamie's Dark Corner Glasswork pieces firing at 1,000 degrees and higher, and with Sharon's kilns firing her ceramics, the Campbell studios should be toasty this winter. Jim's paintings provide a visual backdrop for the 3-D work of wife Sharon and son Jamie, but Jim has crafted a 3-D piece of his own - a stringed instrument akin to a slide guitar but tuned to produce a Hawaiian sound. Once again, the multi-talented nature of artists surfaces. 

I feel the need to return to my own studio, but I so want to share this with you that I'm sitting here writing instead. And sitting is not my usual stance in the studio! Welcome to "Glimpses of Greenville."