Summer in the Studio: Finding Buoyancy

There is a rhythm to summer in the studio unlike any other season. The days are long, especially for our pup Willo who needs walks frequently, allowing us both to get some movement and fresh air in. The Columbia River outside my window is active and full of ships. The August fishing season is here and at twilight, as the light shifts, the blue herons, seagulls, geese, and even the eagles begin their evening hunting routines. My work remains steady, moving along to the currents that surround and the cadence each season brings. Each day I return to it knowing that every layer, every mark, and every decision brings me ever closer to my upcoming exhibition, Finding Buoyancy.

Preparing for a solo exhibition is both exhilarating and demanding. It asks for discipline—solitude and the willingness to say no to distractions, trust the process, and keep showing up even when the outcome is not fully known. A September exhibition is a wonderful thing; that sweet spot before the holidays and cooling temperatures, but it has a way of stealing your summer. While everyone else is on vacation and partaking in the activities that make summer in Astoria so special, I’m deep in the studio, painting, drawing, researching, writing, plotting, planning, and somehow trying to keep all the other parts of life and business moving forward. Below are a few drawings, symbols and images used in my new work.

The work isn’t made in occasional bursts of inspiration, instead it is a constant choice and dedication. It is not dissimilar to an athlete training for a marathon. The artist Chuck Close once said “Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work.” A body of work is built through consistency—the quiet decision to show up every day, careful prioritizing, and reprioritizing. By the time the exhibition opens, what people see on the walls represents not just months of painting, but an entire season devoted to becoming ready. And that readiness extends beyond the studio. My meditation and writing practices, along with running and exercise, have become a solid part of the discipline of making the work—ways of clearing my head, managing stress, staying grounded, building energy reserves, and creating the mental and physical space I need to return to the studio focused. In many ways, I’m not only preparing the paintings for the exhibition; I’m preparing myself alongside them.

I creatively began as a dancer, and I think that early relationship to movement has never really left the way I go about making art both physically and mentally. There is a certain choreography to making a body of work. The art process begins first with setting the stage, then inviting in the cast of concepts, scales, colors, and elements, and finally choreographing them through imagination and experimentation. Once that foundation is there, the dance begins and the art starts to reveal itself. It may sound a little esoteric, but I really believe it to be true. There is a rhythm to knowing when to move something forward, when to pull something back, when to change direction, and when to simply let the work lead. At this point in preparing Finding Buoyancy, I am very much inside that dance.

This summer has also reminded me that making art is never just about what happens inside the studio. It’s also about the people who surround the work. So, even though I have to stay on schedule, I also understand the importance of striking a balance.

The recent Astoria Open Studios became one of those moments where everything seemed to come into focus. Sharing Pier 11 Studio with Gabe Fernandez, Anna Daedalus, and Kerry Davis created a space filled with creativity, conversation, and generosity. Over two hundred visitors wandered through our studios, asked thoughtful questions, shared stories, and reminded me that art doesn’t truly come alive until it is experienced by others. I really enjoyed sharing my newest work.

What moved me the most was seeing so many chapters of my own life walk through the door, many who had driven a distance to visit. Friends, former co-workers, classmates, mentors, fellow artists, neighbors, and collectors who have followed my work since my very first open studio in 1996. Plus, those discovering my work and processes for the first time. Looking around the room, I realized this journey has never been about arriving somewhere. It has always been about the people who have traveled alongside me.

Bidding a last farewell to my North Portland Studio “Wagnerica” in November, 2022.

When I relocated to Astoria, Oregon nearly four years ago, I was leaving behind thirty-eight years of a life — a whole rich world of friends and memories — in Portland. Stepping into a seemingly gigantic unknown chapter, I was uncertain I could rebuild my life back up again. But, slowly, this wonderful community welcomed me to find love and my people.

That realization couldn’t have come at a better time. Finding Buoyancy is, in many ways, about navigating uncertainty. It is about learning to stay afloat through change rather than resisting it. This summer has shown me that buoyancy isn’t something we discover alone. It’s sustained by community, encouragement, and the generosity of people who show up for one another.

Friendships formed, opportunities emerged, and Pier 11 Studio became more than a workspace—it became a gathering place.

The river continues to move outside my windows, the buoy ever present. In these final weeks, I will return to the work with renewed purpose, grateful for the path that brought me here and excited for what lies ahead.

My exhibition Finding Buoyancy opens September 12 at Imogen Gallery in Astoria, Oregon.

I hope that you can join me for the reception that day from 5:30 pm to 8:30 pm.

Thanks so much for reading this all the way to the end! I appreciate your interest in support.

Sending much love to you,

Elise

As I approach my 60th birthday this September, I find myself thinking about transitions differently. Sixty feels less like a milestone to arrive at and more like another point of navigation—a moment to take stock of where I’ve been, what has carried me here, and where I want to go next. Perhaps that is why Finding Buoyancy feels like exactly the body of work I should be making right now.

Now the studio has grown quiet again. The visitors have gone home, the deadlines are fast approaching, and the paintings are waiting for titles, signatures, frames and wires.

“Finding Buoyancy Study 1”, ink jet print, encaustic and oil on panel 13” x 9”