Stilll Printing

Block print by Phillip Hoyle

For quite a few years I've been printing some artwork. i began by making Christmas cards with simple relief prints of words and designs. Then the designs got more complicated with several punk rock angels. Last season I made a print of pine branches and needles in Craftsman style. The other day I finished my most complicated piece yet, one with aspen trees in winter in Chiaroscuro style.

The piece required two block cuts--one for brown, the other for black. I can't say I'm completely satisfied. About half way through the designing and cutting I realized I'd made a very intricate design, too ambitious for a first try! But I stayed with it. And I did learn a lot in the process. I hope to learn even more from the ideas that came from this project.

Long live art and the making of art!

Denver, 2015

Storytellers and Story Telling

On the vernal equinox Utes performed the Bear dance.
Bears came out of hibernation and Utes moved to their
spring camps where they danced.
The bear climbing up a tree is still used in that dance.
Surely the bear stories are told during that time.
The story was told in another art on a cliff in Shavano
Valley where petroglyphs capture the traditional lore.
One Ute shaman interprets the image above as the
bear coming from its lair.
Acrylic washes on paper by Phillp Hoyle

There were stories in my childhood told me by my parents. Mom told many of family, neighbors, marriages, births, and the places she lived. To these Dad added bible stories and some his dad’s colorful stories and sayings. Grandma Pink told of tales family and neighbors, Grandpa, of neighbors, snakes, and the farm—its history and its requirements.

I also heard stories from preachers. These stories served a different kind of function from my parents’ stories. Wilford F. Lown, Charles Cook, and some others used their stories to illustrate their meanings hoping thereby to actually communicate the values they held important to all members of our congregation. Jack McInnis years later told stories in his sermons as the content itself. Those I liked even more because they weren’t moralizing.

I heard stories from professors, most notably from James VanBuren who made the world of literature come alive like no other storyteller I had ever met. He dramatized texts in his reading of poetry or the Bible and brought life in so doing. Eventually I came to realize that telling stories was a skill! Of course, given who I am, I started reading about storytelling and finally also understood the use of "storyteller" as applied in criticism to writers of novels. (I’m a slow if thorough learner.) I practiced my approach mostly on children knowing that in such sessions what I said was also being heard by adults. I memorized stories, recalled old stories and retold them, and quite often made up new ones on the spot. Eventually I realized that all my answers to questions were turning into stories! Watch out if you ever engage me in conversation.

Five years ago this month I began attending a storytelling group. Now I lead that group, a gathering of elder storytellers who tell their own stories. The program is SAGE Telling Your Story at The GLBT Center of Colorado. AND you can read many of the stories told there by checking out our blog at sageoftherockies.blogspot.com

Denver, 2015

Writers Group

A shaman ran by     Mixed media on paper by Phillip Hoyle

The writers group I attend often seems like a gathering of shamans
for each one seems to have a private connection with an unseen world
from which arise the fascinating stories and poems. We all know also
that sometimes the price for writing them seems very costly.

For fourteen years I’ve been going to the same writers group. At this point I am the oldest surviving member both in my age and in my membership in the group. A friend kept at me to join; I put him off until I was out of school. The final session of massage school the class sat in a circle. Our teacher asked us each to say what we were planning to do with our massage therapy education. When it was my time I announced, “I don’t know if I’ll make a therapist, but I sure do have a book to write about my experiences of trying to become one. And you’re all implicated.” We laughed together. A couple of weeks later I began to attend the writers group and began reading them my start on the book.

I finished that manuscript and began working on some memoirs and eventually some short stories. The group must have been made of steel for they kept coming every two weeks to read and to hear one another. For awhile we met twice a month. Then we changed to once a month, the schedule we now adhere to all these years later. At each meeting we eat together and then read something we’ve written. Each person present can read at each meeting. Longer pieces are read over two sessions so we all have a chance to share something. We hear poems, memoirs, journal entries, short stories, and blogs. For me, the sessions are a highlight of my month. I want to hear Freddy’s poems of sparkling images and always with no wasted words, Sue’s frank poems that celebrate common life, courage, and constancy. I look forward to memoirs from Jan and Tim, journal entries from Claire, blog entries from Frank. I look forward to reading one of my latest memoirs or stories.

We listen attentively. Often we want poems reread so we can really hear the images that want to pass by too quickly. We comment on our favorite expressions, sentences, or sentiments. Sometimes we laugh or cry or simply are amazed. For the past year every session has been remarkable with everyone writing very well.

There have been other fine writers over the years. Some had changes in schedules, residence, or interest. We miss them but enjoy the occasions when we meet socially or they stop by to visit. I’m so pleased to be a part of this group that has contributed so much to my ear, ability, and freedom of expression, that has become such an essential part of my artistic development.

Denver 2015

Yes

A couple of years ago my artist friend Sue with whom I swap Artist Trading Cards produced a number of cards with the word 'Oh' on them. I was intrigued wondering just what she meant by them. Of course, as with all her work, the cards presented viewers with surprise. She is so inventive. I wondered if she also experienced some kind of surprise and wonder in the designing of the cards given that she is so experimental. Probably both of these values were a part of her process.

I got to thinking then about a word I might employ for a similar project. I realized that in my Morning Pages, the three handwritten pages I write almost every morning, I had started using the word yes. It occurs at the end of page three, a kind of affirmation that crescendos in the size of the letters I write: Yes Yes Yes! It likely is my screaming positively because I often don’t really believe the other affirmations I write out of habit before this enthusiastic ending. Finally, at least a year after thinking about using 'yes', I have made a set of cards, ten of them. Nine go this coming Saturday to a swap at Core New Art Space. One I pinned to the wall of my studio next to one of Sue’s 'oh' cards. Mine are mixed media pieces combining monoprint and collage. AND they were great fun to make. 

One of my Yes ATCs next to one of Sue's Oh ATC's
in my studio.

Denver, 2015

It's a Frame Up

"Petroglyph on Turquoise" by Phillip Hoyle
Acrylic washes on paper

When I was in high school I went shopping at Mrs. Steadman's antique shop. Much of what she offered was not antique but many items were. In her disorderly yet intriguing store I found myself drawn to frames, so I bought some, cleaned them up, and started searching for prints to put in them. Mom abided my taste and let me hang them in my room and eventually in the living room and other places in the house. Since I now produce my own artwork painting and printing them on paper, I have the need for frames and still experience joy as I clean up old and new frames, wash glass, cut mats, and place my art in frames.

These days I'm specializing in very small frames, mostly purchased at a second-hand store, in which I display the very small prints I have been making. I contrast this work with very large frames, ones that can display pieces 30x22". I've painted quite a few such pieces over the years, most of which have waited patiently in folders and boxes for what I am now doing! Just this past week I hung one such piece in my display at Colorado Mountain Art Gallery. I'm pleased with the effect it has on my whole show there. (Sorry I didn't get a picture; I forgot to take my camera.)

Enjoy the photo of the artwork (above) though. Imagine it in a black frame with a narrow white mat. AND if you get a chance, stop by the gallery where I have it and lots of other-sized pieces of artwork on display--large, medium, and small. 

Denver, 2015