Mostly I’ve been making in-edible things. While melted beeswax smells amazing when I’m making encaustic work, it is by no means delicious.

These, however, are.

French Macaroons. Voila!

I’ll be honest, making french macaroons REALLY intimidates me. They are a tricky business. A good french macaroon has a smooth top and a crinkly bottom (otherwise known as a “foot.”) If over-baked, over-mixed, or with too much humidity, none of these lovely things happen. The french macaroon (or so I have read) is a good test of a baker’s skill, because following the recipe is not quite enough. You must respond to the ingredients, the environment, and know just how to execute the dessert on that given day.

I don’t actually know how to do any of that.

But I’ve been trying. And I’ve kept trying. Would you believe me if I told you this was attempt number nine? It is.

You know what changed? I bought a kitchen scale. (I’m not kidding. It was the scale that did it. My eight previous attempts were utter failures, and then I bought a kitchen scale and came out with perfectly smooth, footed macaroons.)

Aren’t they pretty?

And they are delicious to boot.

Apricot, white chocolate and ginger. Lovely.

My inspiration (and terrified step by step instruction) came from this lovely food blog. Please do look at it. It is fabulous.

I did a little happy dance when they were done.

They really are a marvel to eat. Light and crunchy and almond scented, with the tart fruit filling, mellowed by creamy white chocolate, with just a hint of sharp ginger. Heaven.

Ah, french macaroons. I think we’re friends after all.

With the door open, in January. Thanks goodness I live in North Carolina. I noticed yesterday two daffodils growing outside my door. In January.

None the less, working conditions are a little chilly, and intense. Now that I’m working with encaustic I am learning a completely new medium, one which requires patience, and a blow torch. Literally.

While I learn this beautiful, complex, unending new medium, I am also continuing to make small watercolors.

Skyler McGee, Watercolor on Paper, 5" x 5", 2011

These works are essential. They keep me learning about composition, color, and negative space. They are primarily instinctual which means that I can be creative in new ways while working on them. And they are highly meditative, a bit like walking a labyrinth.

Skyler McGee, Watercolor on Paper, 5" x 5", 2011

What I have noticed is that the more I work on these small works, the more I see them reflected in larger, more elaborate works of art. Somehow the small scale informs the large pieces. I am learning from them.

Skyler McGee, Watercolor on Paper, 5" x 5", 2011

It is a wonderful thing as an artist, to realize that the tiny, quick, seemingly easy works are an essential part of the whole of a creative life. They are key to moving forward in the bigger picture, and play a much larger role in it than I would have originally thought.

Skyler McGee, Watercolor on Paper, 5" x 5", 2011

Thanks goodness for small squares of paper, and a few spare minutes.

Be kind to animals. Listen to children. Learn from small things.

And now I am back in the studio. Which is my favorite place.

I’m working in a relatively new medium for me, encaustic. Encaustic is “painting” with hot wax. It’s amazing and very fun to work with. Also, it acts nothing like paint. Sometimes it seems to have a mind of its own.  As I have been pouring over my work the last few days, I realize that I have been trying to wrestle it into submission. I have been trying to gain control over the medium, which is important in learning. But to some extent, I think I have been fighting it, and trying to keep it clean, rather than allowing it to be a little wild.

Then this morning I saw these. This is the work of Janet Bothne.

Over The Wall 16” x 20” acrylic on canvas

I love it. It moves me.

Weighing The Beauty & Imperfection 28” x 60” acrylic on canvas

Her work is layered. And incised. And messy. And intentional.

It’s gritty.

And I love it.

Bouffant 60” x 40” acrylic on canvas - diptych

Say It With Paint 36” x 24” acrylic on canvas

So today when I go back into the studio. (After another cup of coffee)

I will let it be gritty.

My hope it that when you walk into whatever studio is yours~

whatever work is yours to do, whether it’s a career or family or friendships or yourself…

that you will let it be gritty.

And layered and messy and intentional.

And you’ll love it.

* All images credit of www.janetbothne.com

Just these ten small pieces took me over a year to make.  Let me explain: within each of these drawings are at least six or seven other drawings. All layered on top of each other. Each drawing covering something, while simultaneously allowing an element underneath to come through. Each one is like a visual conversation, layered with such complexity that at times it’s difficult to tell which came first. They represent hours of drawing with my nose two inches from the surface, tracing and re-tracing my steps.

"I Was Once a Sapling" Detail, Mixed Media and Resin on Wood, 12" x12", 2009

They are about change. About how we build our lives, layer by layer. About how each layer is vital, and permanent. Yet the image is malleable as we build new layers and integrate old ones. They are about time, and being finite. But they are also about beauty, and about becoming.

"The Clefts and Crevices" Detail, Mixed Media and Resin on Wood, 12" x 12", 2009

They have been cloistered in my apartment for nearly two years, making occasional appearances in open gallery nights. But this is the first time I have ever had the privilege of showing the whole body, with professional lighting and room to breathe. I’m excited.

"Sea Slow Change" Mixed Media and Resin on Wood, 12" x 12", 2009

 These images are not the full compositions. They are simple detail shots of some of the more complex moments. And unfortunately, what is difficult to capture in film is that the primary medium is resin, which is a very shiny substance that reflects like glass. So if you can, imagine each layer with glass between, and then the surface so shiny you could see your reflection in it. And if you can’t imagine it and you live in North Carolina, well, I’d love to see you at the opening tonight.

"Offering" Detail, Mixed Media and Resin on Wood, 12" x 12", 2009

The show will run from January 6–28, 2012 at

Artspace

201 E. Davie St. Raleigh, NC 27601

Opening reception, January 6th, 6–10 pm.

If you have not been to Artspace before, it’s incredible. There are several galleries and dozens of studios with new work up, plus live music and refreshments. I am honored to show there, so come say hi!

I hope you enjoy the work as much as I enjoyed making it. Here is my artist statement which is my attempt to condense a thousand hours into a few paragraphs. Writing about art is a bit like making art about life….there are only so many layers before you have to chalk some of it up to mystery.

Artist Statement, January 2012

Skyler McGee

[im]permenance

These small works are narratives of time, location and substance. They tell an ambiguous story of how we build our lives, layer by layer.

Each piece is comprised of drawings sealed by a thick layer of varnish called resin. On top of that drawing is another drawing, sealed again with resin. Once sealed, the drawings are unchangeable. This building of images comprises works that are often six or seven layers thick. The artistic process mirrors the process of building a life, one layer at a time. As time passes we are able to observe our histories, both individual and corporate, but not alter them. With only the current layer to build upon, we become people of presence—integrating, making unity, binding disparate parts together, creating beauty.

It is this dynamic that the work not only catalogs, but celebrates. It embraces the tenuous nature of creating purpose when human kind is fraught with the unknowable. Through capturing the complexity of how we layer our lives, it affirms the inherent value of the process. The layering of the pieces is an homage to the complex layering of human existence, of change, and the condition of being finite. [im]permenance stands at the apex of what is and what could be, hearkening to both, the beauty found in the strata of human choice.

Yule Log with Chocolate Sponge Cake, Chestnut Mousse and Fondant Mushrooms

Happy Holidays to you and yours.

With love.

It’s cold outside. So clothing is layered. But so are people. And so is art.

I decided to do a grand experiment and attempt to capture the layers that go into a painting. Not all visual art is like this. But in my opinion, really good paintings often have other really good paintings underneath them. And it’s a matter of painting through the layers to build one really good work of art.

This is one of my recent works, entitled “Sitting Bench” that I have shown you before.

"Sitting Bench", Acrylic on Canvas, 18" x 18", 2011

But here are the bones. The skeleton of the work that makes it hold up, keeps it strong.

It’s a short catalog of my process, showing not all, but key shifts in the composition.

I hope it gives you insight, and inspiration for the long and often clumsy task of creating. And patience for the days that process feels risky and like it’s not working.  These photos prove that you have to move through the awkward stages in order to get to the good stuff–which is true about a lot of things.

"Sitting Bench", In Process, Acrylic on Canvas, 18" x 18", 2011

"Sitting Bench", In Process, Acrylic on Canvas, 18" x 18", 2011

"Sitting Bench", In Process, Acrylic on Canvas, 18" x 18", 2011

"Sitting Bench", In Process, Acrylic on Canvas, 18" x 18", 2011

"Sitting Bench", In Process, Acrylic on Canvas, 18" x 18", 2011

Which brings us to the finished piece.

"Sitting Bench", Acrylic on Canvas, 18" x 18", 2011

Make your work. Whatever your work is.

And trust that all the unseen hours that go into it, matter.  Good paintings– good lives, have bones.

It looks like this…..

Pumpkin Pie

And this…..

Skyler McGee, Watercolor on Paper, 5" x 5", 2011

And this…..

My brother and sister in law's gorgeous Thanksgiving table

And this…..

Skyler McGee, Watercolor on Paper, 5" x 5", 2011

And this…..

Citrus Chiffon Cake with Orange Curd and Cranberry Mousse

I am So. Very. Thankful.

It’s not too cold—sweater and boots weather. My favorite.

So tonight, let’s make roasted cauliflower and sage risotto with toasted almonds.

 Yes. Let’s.

Soak it up. At least I have been.

"Sitting Bench", Acrylic on Canvas, 18" x 18", 2011

I want to make bold, new, brave work.

But I am realizing something about painting.

Painting, like writing, can ruminate in one’s mind for a long time. But the real discovery comes in the making. You learn as much about what you want to make by listening to the work itself. I have heard writers say that when a character really comes to life they will do things that surprise even the author.

"Apprentice", Acrylic on Canvas, 18" x 18", 2011

The same is true with art.

I find myself conversing with the work lately. Listening close.

I love these works. They are also not exactly the new work I’m dreaming of.

But I am realizing that to get to the new paintings, the only way is to paint my way there.

So here’s to the process; for you and for me……to whatever it is you’re listening close to and painting your way toward.

A lot is going on in this quiet apartment of mine, surrounded by trees. There is much to tell you about art. Art, and also sewing and reading and cooking and thinking.

But first, I need to tell you this:

If you ever want to celebrate. And the thing you want to celebrate is Fall…..

Then it is a (very) good idea to do so with

Salted

Pumpkin

Cheesecake.