As my final piece exploring texture in my series paintings, I wanted to work with a softer texture. Considering I had worked on creating paintings that were representative of glossy textures and rough textures, I wanted to challenge myself to do something a little softer with this one. However, I wanted to keep up the pattern of choosing slightly less “loved” textures in the painting. Growing up, I had a picture book that was called “Animals Nobody Loves” by Seymour Simon and was a book filled with photos and facts about insects, arachnids, reptiles, and amphibians. As a kid, I loved all things creepy and unusual. This has carried into my young adulthood, and has taken the form of loving the horror genre, scaley animals, and squeamish is the last word anyone would use to describe me. Thinking of a softer texture that wasn’t related to human anatomy (or just something that wasn’t too bodily, such as hair) and a subject that wasn’t an animal, was difficult at first. I pined over what texture that could be, that could still fit my theme of unusual and less-comfy subjects. Then, on a dreary Monday morning, I noticed how much texture there was on a mossy tree trunk I was walking by. I immediately took my reference photo and knew I had determined what my final painting would be. What I really loved about choosing a moss-covered tree, was that it had both the tough texture of the tree bark, but also the softer, spongier texture of the moss.

I dove into this painting knowing I wanted to paint with many layers. I began with my darks and created rough ridges with black and brown paint to create a lifted wedge of where the bark of the tree lifted up as if it was being pulled off. I covered the canvas alternating between light and dark shades of browns and mauves, and then silvery/blue greys which was the most prominent color of the tree bark. Once I felt happy with the layers and thickness of the paint, I started my first layer of moss. The whole process of making progress on this painting was a push and pull, a tug of war, between building upon the bark layers, and the moss layers. I went over each many times to try to achieve the best overlapped look of bark covering bark, moss covering bark, and moss covering moss. I used my palate knife to apply most of the paint for the bark as well as the dark ridges and cracks in the bark. For the moss, I wanted to apply the green using a sponge to enhance the texture of the moss. I think this approach was more affective than the little bit of brush painting I tried for working on the moss.

Overall, this painting is not my favorite of the three, however, I am happy with how the texture of the tree and the moss turned out, which was my main objective. I decided to title the piece based off of the weather the day I took my reference photo, and as a refection of the type of environment I think of when I hear the word “moss”. Although moss might not be as strongly disliked or elicit as strong of a feeling of discomfort or disgust as intestines or the scales of a reptile might, I think it is still an unusual texture that leaves people with shivers down their back and grows in places that are foggy, thick, and deep.

Pogona Vitticeps is the scientific term for the bearded dragon, a lizard native to much of Australia, but also a common reptilian pet in the U.S. Lizards in general have been my favorite animal since I was a child, I remember begging my mother for a pet lizard while she’d drive me to kindergarten. When I turned 15, this childhood dream finally came true and I adopted my reptilian sidekick, Ryuu. Although many might not believe me when I say it, Ryuu is a very intelligent, adoring, and sassy lizard. Her personality is impossible for me to ignore, and she has been the inspiration for some of my artwork since I adopted her in 2016. I have tried to capture her unique texture that coats every inch of her body with my acrylic paints for years now. Bearded dragons are named after their unique scaling; they have rigid and bumpy typical lizard-like scales sure, but they also have uniquely scaled throats that puff out and darken as a form of communication. Referred to as their “beard”, they will expand this neck area to demonstrate territory, while hunting, to impress a mate, to ward off predators, and in Ryuu’s case at least, when she’s feeling silly-goofy towards her human mother and wants me to chase her in a game of get-away tag. Her back is the part of her body that probably has the most scale diversity; she has smaller triangular shaped scales, enlarged bumpier scales, flat diamond scales, patterns of darker scales following the outline of where her ribcage is, lighter scales breaking the distance between these near “striped” scales, and spiny protruding spikes alongside where her back meets her softer underbelly. When rubbed in the right direction, these spikes feel rubber, almost smooth. When she puffs herself out in defense and these are brushed the opposite direction, the are sharper. For this series, I really wanted to capture her tough, reptilian texture while focusing on these different scale types on her back.

To execute painting this unique texture, I used a stippling effect with my paintbrush, and kept a dryer brush when I did incorporate actual strokes. I also heavily worked in layers; areas of her back that are more dense in both color and texture I included heavier globs of paint, leaving them to dry upwards with a slightly risen texture. I also relied on a stippling technique to accent the highlights and shadows on her back. These areas included not just the “stripe” like pattern rippling down her entire back, but also the wrinkled folds of her reptilian skin that follow her ribs. About four to five layers of stippling make up this reptilian back, while only about three layers make up the sliver of front and back legs I included in the painting. Her legs are less heavily textured and have only smaller, similar sized scales which is why I kept the layering to a minimum in these areas. Lastly, I used a tiny brush with globs of white paint to replicate the rubber-y texture of the spines along her side. These spines come in a variety of sizes, and when she is relaxed, extend in every-which direction. After finishing the white base of each of them, I went back in with the same paint brush and either added or elaborated to the spines in deep greys, or yellow-greys were she had medium tones.

Overall, I am happy with how this painting turned out, not only was it a painting I have wanted to create for awhile now, but it was very fun to work on and play with a very different texture. Incorporating the texture of Ryuu as my second series painting actually does have a connection to my first series painting which features a portion of the human intestinal track that complicated my quality of life while I was in high school. Ryuu came into my life around the time I was diagnosed and kept me company while I was sick. She would sit on my shoulder or cling to my calf while I drew or painted through the pain I was experiencing. To me, these paintings both share the memories of my early high school experience and relate to both positive and negative aspects of this time in my life. I was grateful to be able to paint the pet that I looked forward to returning home to from doctors appointments and tests.

As the first texture painting in my series examining different texture techniques, I wanted to paint something very visceral and capture the sheen and glossiness of healthy, living organs. This was a challenge for me since I am not used to painting with such a smooth texture technique. I usually work with messier, tangible, and rougher textures with my paint. I chose to paint organs because it is a subject I have had interest in painting for many years now. I incorporate a lot of human anatomy and themes relating to the human body in my artwork, I wanted to really push myself to finally attempt this project as a part of this series. It was important to me to depict living organs that are still covered in that healthy viscosity and vibrancy that reflects health, life, and perseverance. I chose to paint the small intestines and include an emphasis on the mesentery; the fatty tissue that protects the intestines. This was intellectually and emotionally a tasking project to take on. Painting organs is unlike anything else I have painted before, and I had to push my mind as well as my artists’ hand beyond my comfort zone to enhance the shadows and highlights as much as necessary in order to depict the glossy cover of mucus and fluid that coats organs. Additionally, I fluctuated between using a wet-on-wet brush technique and a dry-on-dry technique to properly blend the colors and achieve the smooth surface of the intestine. I usually stick to a more dry-on-dry technique in the past, so this was a new experience for me. I went back over the vibrancy of the colors composing the intestine many times, there were so many underlayers and shades of purples, reds, pinks, blues, and even some greens that I wanted to do my best to incorporate throughout the whole painting to really demonstrate the life that the organs are meant to represent. This painting was emotionally testing to paint because as an teenager I struggled a lot with my physical health and underwent several procedures that affected my digestive health. The mesentery tissue is symbolic to me and of my struggle to fight for my health, as well as find and maintain a balance that supported my body’s abilities. It was a therapeutic, yet an emotionally heavy process to sit with this project and work on painting these organs that took away such a large chunk of my quality of life at a young age. I feel very happy with the results of this painting, especially as I reflect on it as a topic and texture I have been eager to tackle in my artwork since I was 15.

When I started contemplating what ideas I wanted to incorporate into my painting series, one element was clear to me immediately. I want to continue my work with texture, but expand upon it to challenge the ways I have worked with texture in the past. One inspiration for this is the work of Mark Bradford. Similar to the type of texture I have incorporated in my part works, Bradford incorporated thick, layered paint into his pieces too. I enjoy this application of texture because it’s simple to work with my palate knife to achieve this sort of texture. It also allows for me to be able to create an almost marbled effect with my paint if I choose not to fully mix my colors, I think this adds depth to my texture and work as a whole. However, as much as I enjoy working with texture in this 3D, layered way similar to Bradford, I want to challenge myself to tackle different textures, such as rough, smooth, glassy, sheen, soft, piney, fuzzy, reflective, and more.

So, for this project proposal, I want to create a series of three paintings that capture a different form of texture. As far as choosing what textures I want to use, I referenced the artists map list of key elements I incorporate in my work. Two of the concepts that stood out to me as textures I wanted to focus on related to themes of human anatomy and nature that I commonly include in my art.

The first texture related to human anatomy. I wanted to paint something visceral, and capture the slimy sheen that distinguish living organs from dead ones. Although it may seem morbid and dark, I see this as a positive representation of life. Only healthy living organs have the vibrant shades of pale pink, lush reds, brilliant purples, and lively yellows. An organ that reflects light off it’s protective sheen is also an indication of a healthy organ. For this project, I want to work on mastering the wet, shiny texture of organs by using a glossy finish, smooth and globby paint strokes, and using highlights to emphasize these textures. I plan to zoom in quite close to a portion of intestine-looking organ to focus the attention on the various forms of texture of the organ, the fatty mesentery tissue, and sheen coating it all.

The second texture I thought of was the rough, scaley texture of my pet lizards back. My bearded dragon is a source of inspiration for my work and represents my love for nature, particularly elements of nature that are less-widely adored. Her back is composed of bumpy scales, rubbery feeling spikes that harder when she gets defensive, and smooth patches of scales. For this painting, I plan to incorporate more of my layered application of paint to achieve that rougher edged-form. I also play to have the painting be a close-up of her back scales, so it won’t be displaying her lizard body as a whole. I hope that by doing this, it will emphasize the element of texture over subject.

I am yet to make up my mind on my third and final element of texture, but I am leaning towards wanting to represent a more fuzzy, soft, or tufty texture in this painting. One thing I am considering while brainstorming what the final piece will be are the other over-arching themes present in my series. All of these elements are relevant to my identity as an individual artist. I want to paint healthy intestines because of my experience battling chronic illness and represent the hope I hold onto that I am in remission and have healthy internal organs. I want to paint my lizard who I love dearly and whom I adopted when I was diagnosed with my auto immune disease and my life changed forever. For my last painting, I want it to be representative of another important aspect of my life and identity as an artist. Ever since being diagnosed, Frida Kahlo has been my favorite artist and largest inspiration as an artist. Although none of my paintings for this series will be a self-portrait of myself, they will represent elements of myself and things that have surrounded me during my journey being diagnosed with chronic illness, and growing to adapt to my new lifestyle. I hope that the color palate will reflect not just the texture, but the liveliness of each important symbolic texture.

For this piece, I knew that I wanted to expand upon some of the themes that I used for my thematic self portrait, which are also themes that I reflected on being a significant part of my work in general- in both my visual art and my writing. I wanted to continue playing with texture and elaborate on the theme of change and transformation that was central to my self portrait. Immediately, the concept of “shed skin” came to mind. I wanted to portray the idea of collected “shed skin” or pieces of my past self peeling away to reveal something unknown, new and exciting. I used cardboard scrapes and glued them using a glossy adhesive to a cradle board. In order to make the concept of the skin translate as peeling and shed, I overlapped the cardboard pieces and worked on peeling them back from the board once they were glued on.

I wanted to represent that transformation and significant change can be painful and overwhelming, sometimes even resistant. In order to represent this in my painting, over and under the flesh-colored cardboard scrapes, I painted in a thick, deep blood red color. Then, I took safety pins and stuck them through some of the overlapping pieces of cardboard and layered on clumps of drying blood-colored paint as well as globs of hot glue that I painted over to look bloody. This represents the hesitancy to open up to change and transformation, trying to keep things together and the way they were; resistant to giving into what is being rid of.

Coming off of some of the safety pins are pieces of twine. To me, the inclusion of the twine is representational of two different ideas: one, further enhancing the resistance to change, attempting to sew shut the opening that is growing in size underneath the shed skin. But it also represents the growth that lies underneath: where the twine overlaps with the opening, it is painted green to be symbolic of growth and new beginnings, almost like a vine. When the twine overlaps with the “flesh” however, it is bloodied like the rest of the shed pieces of skin.

Lastly, I wanted to even further exaggerate the visual of the shed skin being lifted and peeled back. I decided to cover my fingers in the red paint I was using to represent blood, and pick at the cardboard peeling it back further myself. Some pieces of cardboard where only partly glued down initially in order to represent the shed skin. I wanted take it a step further and spread that peeling across the entire board instead of having it concentrated along the opening of the two sides of “skin”.

The opening between the skin, or the “gash” is abstract. I wanted it to still contain a level of mystery and surprise as the future is always full of that. I don’t know what all lies ahead of me, and instead of imagining the future as all good or all bad, I wanted to represent a balance of both positive and negative. This is why I chose to have the base of the opening be a black and white scale of swirling patterns. In order to incorporate more texture into this “gash”, I used a hot glue gun to add some extra swirly texture that I then painted over and used as the framework for the swirling paint pattern. From the edges closest to the “skin”, I added a little bit of the deep red to the black and white paint, but the further the swirl gets from the skin, the less red there is and green instead takes over; swirling into the smallest curves and centers of the pattern. This is, yet again, to demonstrate the positivity that can result from enduring difficulties. Yes, there will be some pain and you will mourn the parts of yourself that you have lost, but the possibilities of new growth are alluring.

Reflecting upon the different reoccurring elements and themes I include time and time again in my artwork, I developed the idea for this painting based off the many emotions surrounding change, transformation, and growth. I reference a lot of darker themes into work that inspires positive perspectives, which is why I decided to include moths into this piece. I incorporate moths into my work often, nocturne papillons, the butterflies of the night. Often, moths are associated with darker more gothic themes- yet they undergo the same beautiful transformation that butterflies do. I feel connected to moths as they relate to the night, and the night sky.

I am also facing a time of uncertainty in my life right now: college graduation lies just a few short months ahead of me, and the life I have grown quite comfortable in on my college campus the last four years will no longer be my normal routine. When faced with uncertain change, I often struggle to accept it. That is why I incorporated the cocoons suspended around me; they are somewhat ominous and looming. And although they bring uncertain change, no matter how uncertain, the change will happen, and be beautiful. I wanted to express in this piece that there are two forms of acceptance when facing change: you can morph and grow with it, adapt to it- or you can get stuck in it. Hence the title of my piece, Silk Has Two Forms. Larvae and caterpillars spin their chrysalis out of a silk they produce, but so do spiders when spinning their webs. Spiders represent fear and negativity to me, which is why the webs extend towards me, encroaching on my space and the cocoons. The webs are a threat, but the presence of the hatched moths on my shoulder and face are the evidence that the courage to change is stronger than the tenacious webs.

I deliberately incorporated a lot of green into this piece to further represent the theme of transformation and growth. To me, the color green not only communicates a metamorphosis, but it also represents creativity. It takes a creative mind to accept difficult change, sometimes I find it necessary to change my perspective to tell a story in order to adapt more easily. Another element I include in many of my pieces is texture. I think texture is an emphasis, the way writing can be emphasized with bold and italics, capital letters and underlines. That’s what texture is in my work, it draws the eye towards areas that both are heavy in texture, but also the places that are not. I wanted my hair to be textured so my skin would looks smooth and glow-y in comparison. Likewise, I wanted the cocoons to pop off the canvas against a smooth background.

Overall, I am content with the way this piece turned out, I felt challenged by the work while finding the process therapeutic and reflective.