Philanthropic art

Un Ballo in Maschera

(A Masked Ball)

The above piece will be auctioned off  at a benefit for the DuPage Children's Museum in April of this year.  A good friend and amazing artist, Laura Lein-Svencner, got me involved in this project. 

The DuPage Children's Museum created this venue, with the goal to raise money and awareness of the importance of engaging young minds in all aspects of education . They put a call out to artists to donate our time and talent for The  M.A.S.K. Project (Math, Art, Science for Kids).

Fifty masks were signed by celebrities including Barack Obama, Halle Berry and Tom Hanks. These masks were given to artists to transform. Part of the fun and challenge is to keep the celebrity signature visible while integrating it creatively into the overall design.

I was fortunate enough to receive a mask signed by world famous, Italian conductor, Ricarrdo Muti, music director and conductor of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Which led me down the creative path of Giuseppe Verdi's three act opera, Un Ballo in Maschera. Playing opera in my studio I was inspired to give my mask a masquerade feeling. Using a combination of rich colors, sheet music, glazes and lace I pay tribute to the talent of conductor Muti and the genius of Verdi. 

 To learn more about the M.A.S.K project:

http://www.aforceforearlylearning.org

I Love You

So, where do I go from here?

mixed media

12x12"

I have been doing a lot of writing, in my head. Composing wonderful internal conversations, that stagnate in my brain. Today I decided to give the conversation a page to rest upon.

Eternity is in love with the creations of time. William Blake

That uber intelligence that is all , loves us  because we have the ability to make their genius real. It's a sublime, symbiotic relationship. They are the muse, we are the vessel and together we create wonderful works of art, music, literature, architecture, gardens, delicious dishes, sublime wines, all the "things" that make our life in this dimension, wonderful and amazing. Without us, Eternity's genius would be swirling around the Universe,without form, just an idea, just a thought.

So this morning, my muse whispered me awake with the words, "I love you". Those three little words take up such a small space on the page, but oh my lord, they take up a universe of feeling. The expansiveness of the phrase, I love you. Can you feel it? How it makes you larger than your mere human frame and embraces you in a womb of wonder.

To answer Blake, I would say;

The creations of time are in love with Eternity. 

Since we  have a beginning and an end, Eternity allows us to live on, either through our works or through those we give birth to. So it's important to show up. To open up and only then, can Eternity  flow through us and make our genius real.

Uncovered

Uncovered #3
16" x 20"
Oil & Cold Wax

I wanted to crawl back into the womb.

My doctor asked me to sit and said, "The biopsy came back positive. I'm so sorry."

Tears, unwillingly, fell and licked my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away. And in a daze my husband and I began a new chapter in our relationship.

Through everything, what still chokes me up is remembering losing my hair. Once it started to go, I decided to have it shaved. As I sat on the outside deck of my friends home, surrounded by my husband, my mother and my friends, she took the electric clippers and began to shear. Spontaneously I began to cry, quietly. My mother said, "Oh Evelyn, don't cry."

"I can't help it." I whispered.

It took me a couple of weeks to really look at myself in the mirror. I gave myself passing glances and ignored what was looking back, but then I finally really looked and came to a place of acceptance. Which moved into a position of accepting with spirit. Instead of hiding my head under a cap or scarf I decided to go natural. I let the sun bronze me up and I wore my badge of survival with elegant honor. Strangers came up to me to tell me how beautiful I looked and wished me well. Many women said, "I wish I had the courage to just cut it all off."

I went through several emotional stages. One of the most difficult was coming to terms that my body was attacking me, and I felt a sense of betrayal. Silently this abnormal sleeper cell laid in wait, slowly gathering more like itself, to itself until it was finally large enough to be caught under the microscope of a mammogram.

Thank you, Lord of the Mammogram machine. How many times was I tempted to NOT get a mammogram that year. So there must have been a part of my body that was communicating with me, because I did get a mammogram in 2006 and today I am well into my 5th anniversary, as a survivor.

Art of 9; One, Group Show at McCord Gallery

Postcard designed by Michael Klaus Schmidt, promoting our first group show. Other award-wining artists in our group show are; Dianne Martia, Dennis Salaty, Vianne Korhorn, Tony Armendariz, Jerri Reimann, Cheryl Ann Spran, and Frank Tumino.

What makes this show interesting and unique is our way of communicating through diverse mediums, including pastel, oil, acrylic, watercolor, and pencil. What you'll see is 2D and 3D art work ranging from realism to assemblage, to the fine art of collage.

The exhibit is running through April 22 and we're hosting a free Artists' Reception March 23 from 6:30-8:30 pm.

Coming Home #5
Mixed Media

This is one of the seven pieces I'm exhibiting at the show. Hope to see you at the reception.

Addison Show

Uncovered 2; what is hidden is revealed
(16x20)
oil & cold wax

Just dropped off my piece for the Addison Show; "The Art of Collage: Celebrating the Masters". One hundred years ago, Picasso glued a piece of chair caning onto a canvas and the fine art of collage was born. In celebration of collage as a fine art media, our group, The Midwest Collage Society, decided to pick noted artists who wove collage into their creative repertoire. I chose Man Ray, http://www.manraytrust.com/, an American born artist who was a significant contributor to both the Dada and Surrealistic movements.

"I paint what cannot be photographed, that which comes from the imagination
or dreams or from unconscious drive.
I photograph the things I do not wish
to paint, the things which already
have an existence." Man Ray

The piece above is the second in a new series. The inspiration coming from post chemo-radiation therapy, when my husband and I decided to take a series of photographs celebrating my body and my spirit's ability to survive. Like an infant coming from the womb, I felt newly alive. This series will embody that spirit.

So far I have (6) 16x20 panels, 2 are finished, the other 4 in various stages of completion. I also finished a 4x6 study and have prepped (4) 8x10 panels. The 16 x 20 panels are oil and cold wax, the smaller panels are in acrylic.

Happiness is

the love of my life

When I first laid eyes on him 26 years ago, I felt as if my heart had suddenly decided to sing.

And miracles of miracles, the symphony is still playing.

What is missing in this picture (because I cropped them out) are the lines of red and white wine classes sitting in front of us. We were celebrating the beginning of 2012 and Fred's daughter snapped this at about 12:05 am, January 1. I think she captured the spirit, fun and hope for a new year.

Solutitude

The City We Thought We Knew
8x14 inches

I have been living in my head.
Instead of going into my studio, I have been creating and painting in my mind.
Instead of writing in my journal or posting on my blog, I have been conversing silently with myself.
Am I resting for the next chapter in my creative life?
Or am I stalling?

I finished the piece above a few weeks ago. I like it. It stirs a conundrum of emotions. There's a sweetness, mingled with sorrow. A feeling of desolation and solitude. It doesn't depress or sadden me, but there is something a bit sad about the lone horse, traveling silently past the empty horizon. But when I look at it, I feel a sense of peace. I like the quiet.

My favorite time of day is the quiet time, before the noise of living is heard, speeding past my windows, in a hurry to get somewhere. Every driver, every passenger, have their own stories to live. So before most wake, I wake and I listen to the silence. And I feel a sense of peace.

That sweet time is when I reflect on my blessings and send my gratitude out to the universe. I sense the presence of my husband and two dogs and relax into the safety of their love.

This year my resolution revolves around grace. Being more open, less critical, more loving. less judging. Living up and out, instead of in and down. Which means I need to get out of my head and into my studio. Take my hands off of the keyboard and get them into some paint!

Please Pass the Potatoes

Please Pass The Potatoes

Giving with a Purpose

Someone asked me today if I was ready for the holidays, "Yes, I am."

She looked at me with envy, "Lucky you."

I mentioned, instead of buying gifts for our kids and friends, we made donations, in their names, to their local food pantries.

"What a great idea. Giving with a purpose. I just hope your kids understand and appreciate the sentiment behind what you're doing."

I shook my head"Oh yes, they won't be surprised, they know their parents."

All the envelopes were sent earlier this week and I hope, in our small way, we can create a little warmth for those who don't have as much as we have.

The Salvation Army really says it best: Sharing Is Caring

Together when can help

Last year I had the idea of making donations on behalf of my family and friends, instead of giving gifts for Christmas. Like a lot of good ideas, it simply remained an idea.

This year, I am going to make it happen. I am calling the project; Please Pass the Potatoes.

After watching CBS Sunday Morning's segment on the "New Poor" http://www.cbsnews.com/sections/sunday/main3445.shtml?tag=hdr;snav
and learning how many people are struggling to feed themselves and their families, I decided to do something. Instead of giving gifts that will end up in a drawer, a corner, or some other forgotten place, I will make a donation, in their name, to a food pantry in their area.

Here are some statistics that motivated me to action:

• 1 in 6 adults have trouble putting food on their table, in America.

• 1 in4 children go to bed, hungry, in America.

• 14.7 million people are now on food stamps, in America.

People in this country should not, not be able to feed themselves and their children. I know it's a world wide problem, but I live here and I want to help, here.

I imagine if everyone I know were to embrace this idea and join Please Pass the Potatoes what an impact we could have. Now imagine if everyone you know were to embrace this cause? And if everyone they know were to embrace this cause? We could help put food on the table of those who aren't as lucky as we are.

I'm passing this idea along because I want to inspire you to join me by starting your own Please Pass the Potatoes movement. A grass roots effort to to help feed hungry people in our own communities, maybe even in our own neighborhoods.

Solo Reception

Dani, me, Erich, Cheri

Ready and waiting

Jodi, Madeleine, Joyce

Full House

It's not often we are given the gift of recognizing how blessed we truly are. I glimpsed that Friday night. It was the opening reception for my show; Mind-Field, Creative Explorations, at LaGrange Art Gallery. It was 6 pm and we were ready. My husband, son, daughter, daughter-in-law, the wine, the cheese, the fruit, the cupcakes, all waiting for the first visitors to arrive. Then it was 6:17 and I was beginning to wonder, "where is everyone?" And secretly worrying no one would come.

Then the door opened and it didn't stop opening for quite some time. Two of the first to arrive were Joyce and Jodi, who flew from Boston to help me celebrate my first solo reception. Soon the gallery was packed, and it was a real party, a celebration of artists and art collectors, looking, talking, observing. I was caught up in it all. It was sheer wonderful.

The next day, while walking Max and Mollie, I went into the quiet and thought about what it meant for all those people to take their time and come to the gallery to see me and the world I create on canvas. And I realized, it was love. The love of giving, the love of celebration, the love of being. And this was joy.

Haiku Insomnia

Insomnia,
you leave me
tired
behind my eyes.





Since I went through chemotherapy, 4 years, 7 months ago, Insomnia has been an unwelcome monthly guest in my bed. She normally arrives between 1:14 - 2:47 am.

While she visits, she talks incessantly and quietly, in my head. As much as I toss, turn, or thrash, she remains comfortably nestled between the passages of my mind, filling me with poetry, conversation, nightmare visions, beauty, questions, answers, everything but sleep.

Eventually she convinces me sleep is simply a verb, and I accept by putting my feet on the ground and getting out of bed, wondering if she will stay another day or two, or disappear until next month.

Mirror, mirror on the wall

It was Sunday. We were having dinner with friends. The television was on and a football game was playing when I heard the announcer say, "...Michael Vick..." I was appalled and verbally announced my feelings. My friend said, "He paid his debt. He went to prison!"

I believe in forgiveness. I also believe there are some crimes so terrible, once committed; you give up your rights to certain privileges.

In the world of sports, if you are a professional athlete and caught betting, you have given up your right to be in the Hall of Fame. If you are caught taking steroids, you are stripped of your titles. So how is it, in that same world, you can be part of a dog fighting ring, torturing and killing them, and once you've "paid your debt", you are welcomed back into the star status arena of football, and hired to play on a professional team?

Is winning all that matters? What message does that send to the young people that worship the game and thereby, worship the players?

In my opinion, when Michael Vick became part of and profited from a blood lust sport, he gave up his right to be what he is today, a very highly paid professional athlete.

Those that hired him and those that watch and cheer him and those that make money from him, should look into the eyes of any dog and ask, is this right? Is this who we are?

Patience

Waiting for a treat

I was not born with the patience gene. So along came our cavaliers. And now I have learned the art of patience. Not because they test my patience. But because of how patient they can be.

For example, when Max and Mollie want to play ball, Max will bring the ball, set it at my feet and wait, and wait, and wait. Every time I look at him, he looks back with yearning, seeming to implore me to pick up the ball and throw it! While Mollie sits with a stuffed toy in her mouth, patiently waiting with her brother, for the games to begin. You can guess the rest, eventually, I give in and the two of them fly around the house, Max chasing the ball, Mollie chasing Max.

It's the least I can do to reward their patience.

Titles

We are the same

My huband made the comment , "I don't know why artists are compelled to title their work."

Often times, when I am working on a piece, a title will present itself. As if the piece is naming itself. It's a method of communicating the message behind the work. Part of the dream vocabulary I rely on and attempt to weave into my work.

Viewer interpretation then takes over. "We are the same", pictured above, on the surface, is two Ibex facing each other. If you apply the title to humans, it suddenly takes on a more complex meaning. A maze of political, religious and physical issues begin to surface. Questions arise. Introspection allows us to view each other more openly, forgiving differences and embracing those innate qualities that makes us who we are.

That's how life should be.

9/11

I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing, 10 years ago, today. My husband and I were working out, with NBC's Today Show keeping us entertained. When I saw the first plane hit, I thought, as most people, the pilot had lost his/her way. Then I saw the second plane hit and I froze. I realized with a sickening jolt, that both acts were delilberate and we were under attack.

I picked up the phone, dialed our best friends and said, "turn on your tv, we are under attack". Then I watched in stunned silence as the events escalated to the horror that is now woven into the tapestry of our history.

That was when I became addicted to morning news. I could no longer trust that something wicked would not come this way during the night. Now every morning, I turn on the news to see what had happened while I slept. Blessedly, wickedness had been kept away, even today. Regrettably, we can no longer trust that to be true, always.

I'm still deeply affected by those events. The paradox of live and nature, today is an incredibly beautiful day. Sunny, blue sky, wispy clouds and the temperature, a perfect 72 degrees. Nature's tribute to commemorate the 10th anniversary.

I sold one of my pieces today! "We are the same". The buyer now owns six of my pieces. She is becoming my partron. She also happens to be a dear friend, way before I got back into making art.

I'm off to the studio. I'm working on six 16x20" panels. Oil and cold wax. These pieces intrique me. I was looking through photographs my husband had taken of me. My hair had just started to grow back after chemotherapy. It was wild. It grew back a platinum grey and very curly. After having bone straight hair all my life, and suddenly at the youthful age of 54, I finally had the curly hair I envied on other people, I didn't dare hate it, after all, I was coming off of being bald!, so I had to be grateful. Let's just say, I have new sympathy for all you curly tops.

Back to the panels. The central themes are three black & white photographs. I printed them out on 8x11.5 paper and then wrote around the pictures. After collaging them down, I am now in the process of painting them. I'm taking my time. I want to do right by these images. I think they could take my work in a new direction. Actually, they already are.

Today

My website is up, so I won't be using this blog as a gallery for my work. Please visit http://www.eveozer.com/ to see my work.

Now I can use this blog to journal about my art and my thoughts and share inspirational writings. I deleted all the art posts and was surprised the last time I wrote anything was in 2009! Max as art, well, Max has a little sister, Mollie. So today I am introducing them together. They are a pair. Can't help but smile when I look at them. wouldn't you agree?

-Only this moment is life. -Thich Nhat Hanh

My dogs seem to comprehend this better than me. They truly live in the moment. They have taught me to shed my worries and petty grievances, simply by their presence. Their needs are so simple; love, food and a comfortable lap to sleep on. "And yes, take me out so I can "read the neighborhood newspapers" printed in the grass and do my business."

Max as Art

I am almost finished with my Exquisite Corpse pieces, good thing, too, as I have to drop them off to the Bloomingdale District Park Museum on Saturday.

For those who don't know what the Exquisite Corpse display is, it started as a parlor game where artists would fold a piece of paper into thirds, the first artist would draw the head, fold it over and hand it to the second artist to draw a torso, the second artist would fold it over and hand it to the last artist to draw the legs. Then they would unfold the paper to discover the "exquisite corpse".

Our Midwest Collage Society decided to use this theme for our upcoming show. Initially I was just going to do a head, but then I got into the "spirit" and ended up with 3 heads, 2 torsos and 2 sets of legs. Over all I am really pleased with my "creations". I will be posting pictures soon.

In the meantime, I offer you the latest picture of our dog, Max. My husband took this picture with his new iphone. Doesn't he look like a piece of art?

Poem

As I was taking my dog, Max, for a walk this morning, I thought that Mother Nature didn't get the message that it's supposed to be Spring! I could have used a pair of mittens. I saw fathers, (yes, dads) standing on the streets, waiting for the school bus to pick up their precious offspring, arms crossed with sweat shirts on and the kids were hopping up and down, trying to keep warm. So, in keeping with the weather, I wanted to share this poem, which I wrote for my mother in March, 2006, for her birthday:

Breathing the starched crisp morning air,

a bird's song sings me up into the face of the aurora blue sky,

and I see the beginning of another season is here.

Minature buds shyly show themselves

safely captured on the limbsof winter's strip tease bare trees,

calling out the end of this bitter birth cycle.

Rejoice,

they seem to say,

soon the sun will warm us into life, again.

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The piece above I call OZ, and when you look closely in the upper right window, you can see my dog, Max. Just like Toto, wanting to find a way home.

What is art?

Had dinner with a good friend last night and the subject of art took up much of our conversation. He has represented some well known Chicago artists and one thing he said , " true art tries to create a new visual language". I thought that was very profound. I went to bed thinking about it, and woke up with it.

I keep a journal and try to write in it every day. This morning I wrote:
- As a form of my inner dialogue, I want my art to be stimulating. Really, i have no clear vision as to where my art is taking me, but i am loving the journey. Free to be free, that's the hardest thing - something is in me and i'm trying to help it come out. I feel it's there - i feel its presence- it's not the Ego, the Ego stops and judges the creative process - it makes the hand stutter-once the Ego is silenced, then i believe, true creativity emerges, that's where i want to be-silence the Ego and let my creative energy take over-that's the struggle. The Ego removes the playful fun-it calculates, therefore, it stifles spontaneity. I want my art to cast a spell on the viewer-captured-entraced-enthralled. Being in a community of artists, I see many of us struggle with making art & a lot of that struggle seems to be around our inability to simply enjoy and relish in the ability to create. We worry too much that our art is not "good enough" which I believe is the Ego, getting in the way and limiting our access to that nebula of creativity we all possess.