Studio Notes

New Abstract Work

When my adult children visit for Sunday dinner, they always make a stop in my studio, browsing through my artwork and requesting pieces to take back to their apartments. They usually gravitate toward my abstract pieces.

It made me think about my own art taste in my early twenties, in my first apartment away from my parents, circa 1998. I remember hunting for posters and artwork at Ikea.

I was drawn to simple, easy-to-digest pieces. I hadn’t learned to trust my eye, I just wanted my space to look like a magazine or something I’d seen on MTV Cribs.

Growing up in an immigrant household where art and decor weren’t priorities made me hungry for quick fixes.

Now, of course, most of us in our twenties are just starting out and can’t afford original art. But I do wonder: if I had invested in affordable pieces from local artists in 1998, what artwork would still be with me nearly 30 years later?

I think about all the Ikea and HomeGoods art I bought, pieces that eventually ended up in thrift stores or the dump.

I see my daughters repeating a few of those same decor choices, and I know some of their pieces will also end up at thrift stores one day. But that’s part of the journey of curating your own eye. I mean, I was still buying HomeGoods art well into my thirties. It’s really only in the last decade that I’ve become more intentional about the art I collect.

With my daughters in mind, and their gaggle of twenty-something friends who’ve bought my work or cheer me on whenever I share a work in progress, I started thinking: what if I created a series of original abstract pieces that would allow new collectors, as well as older ones interested in original art, to have affordable artwork with a real chance of staying with them as they do life?

I know it’s a little presumptuous to imagine my work staying with someone for decades. It could just as easily end up in a thrift store. But I feel a tug to think about affordability and access in some of my pieces.

I’m not suggesting that artists undervalue their work, artists deserve fair pricing, always. I just want to make room in my practice for some art that feels within reach, knowing that “affordable” means different things to different people. In my mind, “affordable” in this context looks like original art somewhere under $65.

So, I explored a series of textured abstract pieces in both oil and acrylic. It’s titled, “Finding Ground.” It is for anyone who enjoys modern, decorative abstracts.

I was drawn to a color palette inspired by fashion, interior design, film, art, books and travel. While in Copenhagen this past summer, I discovered an affinity for deep rich burgundy and blue colors so they are threaded in these pieces.

I wanted this series to be simple, with a cohesive color palette that I knew my daughters would give a thumbs up.

I’m quite pleased with how they turned out. They bring a small boost of beauty into a room. They remind me of buying fresh flowers and putting them in a vintage vase, just to add a little color in a space.

These pieces aren’t meant to take up much room. They’re just 6x6 inches and 8x8 inches, and they’re available in handmade frames so they can be hung easily or displayed on a table or windowsill.

They don’t feel overly precious either. I like them just resting on my cluttered coffee table alongside my art books, feeling more like collected objects than something that needs to be fussed over.

These are now available on my website. More will be added over time and my commitment to make them “affordable” will continue.

Art Work in Progress

I can’t believe 6,000 substackers liked this painting I finished of my mom. Your comments warmed my heart.

I’ve been working on a self-portrait of me in my mom’s kitchen in Ghana, drinking a coconut she had just cracked open for me on a hot day. It’s meant to pair with the piece above of my mom collecting corn outside while I sit comfortably in her kitchen enjoying the fruits of her labor.

But honestly, I’m not thrilled with how this painting is going. I’m not excited about it at all, and at this point I’m mostly trying to finish it.

I’m itching to start a new figure painting. I am considering this one of someone I know who is a chef.

Recent Art Exhibitions I Went to See

While the government was shut down and the Smithsonian museums were closed, I went to see Lindsay Adams’ abstract work at the Fray Gallery located inside the Johns Hopkins University Bloomberg Center in DC. I was prepared to just take in some of her abstract work for the sake of just abstract work.

But I was pleasantly surprised to see that her work was tied to her exploration of the Harlem Renaissance and inspired by Langston Hughes (poet) and Aaron Douglas (painter), both artists of the 1930s.

Here I was, creating my own abstract work and putting the final touches on my last essay on the Harlem Renaissance, and the universe pointed me straight to Lindsay’s work. It’s funny how the universe works sometimes, aligning things right when you’re already immersed in them.

Adams has also been commissioned to create a piece for the new Obama Presidential Center titled Weary Blues, based on the Langston Hughes poem written in 1925.

As soon as the government reopened, I popped into the National Gallery of Art in DC to see the Photograph and the Black Arts Movement (1955-1985) exhibit. It’s worth seeing, even though it felt like there could have been more included in the curation. I did appreciate that they included one photograph by Ghanaian photographer James Barnor.

Sketching More

Last studio update is that I was able to sketch consistently throughout October. I wanted to sketch more often, so I followed James Clear’s advice from Atomic Habits and used habit stacking which is attaching a new habit to something I already do regularly.

I paired sketching with my morning walk with our dog. I tuck a small sketchbook and a few Neocolors or a tiny case of gouache in my jacket pocket, then sit on the same bench each morning for a few minutes to capture the turning fall leaves before heading home. I usually spend no more than ten minutes, but those brief moments give me a sense of calm. I always walk back home feeling more grounded.

Yesterday, when I sketched, I noticed that most of the trees I’ve been drawing since early October have already shed their leaves. I sketched mostly bare trees, and it made me grateful that I really sat with the fall leaves via my sketchbook.

I’m looking forward to what winter mornings will offer.