update

So much has happened since my last post. I had a show with a long-time friend, Trina Badarak at the Coos Art Museum in Coos Bay, Oregon, April 25 – July 6, 2025.

I had completed thirteen pieces in 3 years, I needed break from sculpture – to catch up on daily life and responsibilities; for travelling, reading, and family time. In August, I was notified that Typepad, the site that had hosted my webpage/blog would be shutting down on September 30. I had honed my site, step by step, for nineteen years, having to rebuild it from scratch in WordPress was traumatic and a huge learning curve. It is a work in progress. Writing is fundamental to my sculpture process resulting in piece statements for each sculpture. I still haven’t figured out how to have statements show up next to the images when the thumbnails are clicked on.

Late in the summer I started thinking about what comes next and applied for a 2027 show at Umpqua Valley Arts. I planned to spend the fall tackling my new websites issues when my patience allowed and reclaiming our neglected yard when it didn’t. Getting back into scultpure was at the top of my New Year’s resolutions list. I was a bit startled to instead be offered a UVA show for January, 2026. Needless to say, improving this website and reclaiming the yard were postponed.

There was only time to finish one new piece (A Room of My Own) and to continue working on my first carving in 15 years ( AHA!). I had started carving it for the 2024 UCC show, but set is a side when it was clear there would not be enough time to finish it. I did show it in the CAM show, knowing I would be revisiting it after the show. I have been working on it for 2.5 years. Maybe, just maybe, it is finally done. The UVA show will open January 9th, 4:30 – 7pm, at Umpqua Valley Arts, Roseburg, Oregon. It will close on March 13th.

AHA! Painted wood, 2025, 24"x24"x36" At the start of first grade, my son read (memorized) one book at a time. Every Monday he would come home with a new book and by Friday he had it mastered. After several nights of reading a book emphasizing prepositions, I pulled a book from his bookshelf, a Berenstain Bears book, Inside, Outside, Upside Down. Not having pre-read it at school, Darin struggled through the first pages before suddenly glancing over to the school book and then looking up in wonder. In short order he mastered Inside, Outside, Upside Down, every word, on every page, on the front cover, the back cover, and even the spine. He waited up to read the book to his father, he slept with it, and the next morning he raced to the bus with it. At school he skipped the playground and went directly to his classroom to scrawl his name haphazardly on the board under the Come Read with Me sign. He positioned his brightly labeled chair directly below, and did not budge until his startled teacher pulled up a chair and invited him to read. I don’t remember learning to read, but I remember learning to tie my shoe. I love those moments, the thrill of having a switch flip and a sudden, brilliant knowing illuminating what was before incomprehensible. I am addicted to those moments, continually searching for my own, vicariously reveling in nudging others towards their own aha moments. Some deliver a fleeting moment of satisfaction and accomplishment; others are a portal into a new world of possibilities and ongoing revelations.
A Room of My Own Painted bronze and wood,, 2026. 30"x22"x30". Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own was a mandatory read when I was in college, if you were female. Woolf was adamant that “a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” It is also true for making sculpture. Drawing can be done at a kitchen table, but sculpting requires a space of its own and money if it involves bronze casting. My undergrad sculpture professor held one-on-one meetings with his graduating seniors to develop post-graduation plans. He was frank that making sculpture for a living was rare. He said I should focus on finding work that paid enough to afford the studio, tools, and supplies needed to make sculpture, with a schedule that did not conflict with my most productive art time. I left with a list of hand tools I would need in the short term and the shop tools needed when I had a place to put them. The time, place, and money to make sculpture rarely came together during my parenting and working years. But I worked when I could and slowly accumulated the needed tools. In 2013, my sister gifted me a tour of Georgia O'Keeffe's Abiquiu home and studio. Her studio was in her home - the spaces flowing seamlessly into each other, and into the surrounding patios and gardens. It was in awe-inspiring. After retiring in 2017, my husband and I systematically tackled long-delayed house and garden projects. The last project used leftover materials to expand my basement workroom into the adjoining former garage. I now have messy and clean workspaces, a display area for finished work, and a small covered work porch. The old driveway is a patio, flanked by terraced, still-evolving flower beds. It is not Abiquiu, but it is mine. Finally, I have the room and the resources to make sculpture. But more importantly, I have unfettered time to chase ideas around, mulling them over until they evolve into form. A Room of My OVirginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own was a mandatory read when I was in college, if you were female. Woolf was adamant that “a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” It is also true for making sculpture. Drawing can be done at a kitchen table, but sculpting requires a space of its own and money if it involves bronze casting. My undergrad sculpture professor held one-on-one meetings with his graduating seniors to develop post-graduation plans. He was frank that making sculpture for a living was rare. He said I should focus on finding work that paid enough to afford the studio, tools, and supplies needed to make sculpture, with a schedule that did not conflict with my most productive art time. I left with a list of hand tools I would need in the short term and the shop tools needed when I had a place to put them. The time, place, and money to make sculpture rarely came together during my parenting and working years. But I worked when I could and slowly accumulated the needed tools. In 2013, my sister gifted me a tour of Georgia O'Keeffe's Abiquiu home and studio. Her studio was in her home - the spaces flowing seamlessly into each other, and into the surrounding patios and gardens. It was in awe-inspiring. After retiring in 2017, my husband and I systematically tackled long-delayed house and garden projects. The last project used leftover materials to expand my basement workroom into the adjoining former garage. I now have messy and clean workspaces, a display area for finished work, and a small covered work porch. The old driveway is a patio, flanked by terraced, still-evolving flower beds. It is not Abiquiu, but it is mine. Finally, I have the room and the resources to make sculpture. But more importantly, I have unfettered time to chase ideas around, mulling them over until they evolve into form.

Leave a Reply

Discover more from Janet Geib Pretti

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading