April was an exciting month for the Sense of Place Workshop Series. After three fairly successful months housed in Rico Center, Thursday evening gatherings moved to Serenbe, beginning with an evening visiting StudioSwan Gallery, owned by Tom Swanston and Gail Foster. In the future, we will meet in The Studio, an inviting new wood-floored, white-walled room off of the courtyard in Selburne Hamlet.
I was excited at the opportunity to tour the gallery and studio spaces with Tom. I cannot recall any other times I have had the opportunity to tour the working studio of a renowned artist. I was thrilled that Tom had readily consented to share his work with our workshop group.
Ultimately there were nearly a dozen of us, gathered in something approaching an oval in StudioSwan gallery. Around us, the walls were covered with images on plywood of human beings with animal faces, engaging in everyday activities such as riding bicycles. The works were all part of an exhibition called "Astral Images", by emerging Atlanta artist, Meta Gary. Tom quietly welcomed us, explaining that Mina (who manages the gallery) couldn't join us, and that both he and his wife had been stricken with bad colds while they were in New Orleans the previous weekend, at an opening of Gail's work. I could empathize, as I broke into a few rounds of sneezes and felt my throat begin to get scratchy. I only wished I could have an exciting story such as a New Orleans trip as background for my emerging cold.
Tom talked to us for nearly an hour, there in the gallery. He told us about his background, from meeting his wife in art school and eventually opening a gallery of others' work in Atlanta, to his move out of the city and many years spent living in rural isolation along the Chattahoochee River at the western edge of the Hill Country. He told of being drawn into Steve Nygren's vision for Serenbe, until he was finally owning and operating the first (of what he hopes will be many) gallery there. His picture of gallery efforts included an honest assessment of financial realities -- including the enormous costs involved in opening (especially publicizing) a gallery exhibit, even in such a small space as the one room of StudioSwan. I appreciated how much an artist must also be (or have access to individuals who are) financially savvy, able to market their own work vigorously and relentlessly. As he described it, the key was to get an interested buyer to accept artwork "on loan", so that they could check out how it went with their living spaces. It sounded as if, at times, it could be more a matter of color and pattern agreement than simply liking a picture and wanting it to hang in the livingroom. Meanwhile, Tom patiently answered questions about art marketing, plans for the gallery, and former installations there. At last, he invited us to come upstairs and into his studio space.Climbing the steps, even through my head congestion I could make out the marvelous warm scent of beeswax, one of the three components of encaustic art (more to follow). Tom lead us first to his "ideas table", a simple surface covered with all manner of works in progress. He explained that he is fond of rugs, and had been involved in a number of projects designing them of late. Enthusiastically sharing with us dozens of sketches and drawings of carpet patterns, he radiated a sense of joy -- of fun -- in his art. I felt the surging delight of creativity for the delight it can offer -- the kind of creative ventures in which one explores new designs and new possibilities in a dialogue with various materials and themes. Along the way, there is no room for regret over mistakes. Tom explained to us that there aren't accidents to him, but that anything that might be considered an accident (such as a few unintended drops of paint) were simply incorporated into his work. I felt a growing sense of envy. How marvelous it must be to while away the hours on a weekday afternoon in such a sunny space (windows were everywhere), dreaming up new possibilities and "playing" with acryllic paints and encaustics. Maybe I would like to be an artist, when I grow up.
Then he led us into the other part of his studio, where he actually completes his projects. He introduced us to encaustic work, which is done on either thick plywood or else a special metal that also comprised some component of the space shuttle (docking bays?). The medium requires three ingredients: a pigment, beeswax, and resin. He showed us pieces of the resin, whcih closely (and not surprisingly) resembled amber. Or was it rock candy? One of the participants asked, and he responded right away that it tasted horrible. We didn't ask for details. The resulting encaustic pigments were kept in muffin tins until ready to melt on a stove for use in his artwork, such as the piece he has been working with, below.
The surface felt cool and satiny-smooth, inviting a touch or even a caress. The colors were rich, bold, vibrant. The amazing thing about encaustic is that it can grow and grow, by adding new colors and patterns over the old ones, until the first explorations are long buried under resin and beeswax. He showed us another board that he had used for practicing for quite a while. A variety of colors (particularly reds and blues) were simmering in old saucepans, with old brushes sitting atop them. Tom invited us to get started -- to pick a color and explore with it. One of the fascinating qualities of encaustic is that there is also an element of letting go, of letting a work become what it will become. The means of blending a new layer into the rest of the work requires either a blow torch or a hairdryer; as the blending takes place, some patterns become more blurry while others become more refined.
The evening wound down, as some participants had to leave and as I felt the sore throat settling in. Before we concluded, Tom also led us upstairs to the third floor, to view his wife's much tidier gallery space. Many of the walls were empty -- the result of the show in New Orleans. But one painting intended for the show still hung on the studio wall. It includes a single four-letter word, one that had actually been spoken by woman whose life the painting celebrated. Several of us expressed gratitude at the rejection, as we could enjoy it ourselves as a result. Indeed, I felt so thankful for the entire evening, for the opportunity to spend it with so creative, thoughtful, and kind a person as Tom. The future of art in the Hill County is in excellent hands.
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