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As I said in my post Sketchybook 1, I tend to find sketchbooks a bit uninviting, so I have taken to making my own.
Below is a short video of me making the book. When the video begins, I have already created the two covers from black illustration board and used a hole punch to create space for a binding. I wanted to have a binding that would allow me to flip the pages completely over, instead of lying flat like a book. So, I tried to make the binding with colorful string. However... I learn by doing-- I'm making it up as I go along! I had to disassemble the book and change the binding to hinged keyrings, because the string binding was simply not working. If at first you don't succeed... try, try again! Look out for a future blog entry about this travel sketchbook after I've filled it up. Who know what will happen?
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I am not particularly good at creating structure for myself.  An example of a "doodle" I have been making since middle school. Though I can be quite disciplined on a daily or weekly basis, creating an overall framework for my actions is something I’m quite blind to. When I became untethered from the structure of college, I started to drift. Back then I had no conception of the difference between a desire and a goal.
This a common problem for people with ADHD. I was in my early 30’s before I even realized I wasn’t setting goals. Eventually I compared my life to those of my peers and realized I was still living like a 20 year old- having fun, but building nothing. Then I decided to “get serious” about my art career.  "Analyze" Page 7 I have explored this in a blog entry What's Next? Reflections on a Career in Art. I also made an artist book that explores this a bit more called Analyze. You can see a slideshow of it HERE. When I got serious, I started by narrowing down my subject matter and style to something I felt might be salable and distinguishable. For subject matter, my love of old vintage snapshots was the perfect choice. To develop a consistent style, I created two image boards:
By doing this, I created a structure for my artmaking.
Through this, I was able to create structure for sharing my art with the world. The upside was that I was able to convert my desires into goals, and onto achievement! Like a real grown-up! The downside was that my particular manner of creating structure robbed me of artistic freedom and expansive expression. The work was less about me, and more about my chosen subject matter. After 16 years, I have proved to myself that I have the ability to stick to something and achieve my goals. But now I want to create art that is more personally meaningful. It’s been interesting to observe myself without the intense structure of an art business. It is as if I were back in my early 20’s drifting away from the structure college provided me. Only this time, I am more experienced and self-aware. I know I run the risk of simply drifting until I am frustrated by a lack of achievement. So, I’m looking at some options that could provide me with structure and guidance, probably in the form of a formal mentorship program for artists… but not quite yet. I feel like someone who is newly single after a long relationship. I don’t want to settle down again just yet. I want to “find myself” and play the field a bit longer.  Sketchybook I, page 26 Order out of Chaos I am also seeking new influences. I took an online art course by Lorraine Glessner called Mark Making as Practice. Lorraine believes that every artist has a personal vocabulary of marks that is as unique as a signature, and that mark making daily and without objective is the way to find and develop a personal style and expression.
Paradoxically, I have a condition called dyscalculia, which is a learning disability that results in difficulty understanding numbers and mathematics. Irony can be pretty ironic sometimes.  Analyze page 4c, checkbook accordion book My Sketchybook
Armed with watercolor pencils, water soluble pens, markers, and a glue stick, I set up a place on the terrace of our Mexican vacation spot and worked a bit every day. Some of the images are abstract, and some are references to my surroundings and experience. I wrote text in some pages, mostly not. Some are lovely and sweet, a couple are sad, many are funny. I have a collection of images you can see HERE.
 Sketchybook I, page 25 My Special Purpose! This book is a work in progress, and currently I am using it as a tool to process my letting go and rebuilding structure. At the moment, I feel excited, yet overwhelmed by the many ideas I have and directions I could go.  Sketchybook I, page 27 Shall I make art about math, or my dyscalculia? How about astronomy and astrology? Compasses and navigation? I’m also fascinated by the origins of writing. Or I could get more personal and do a book about being an aging female (lots to discuss there!) Of course, there is always mythology and stories from the ancient world. Interwoven is my continued fascination with archeology- but which archeology?  Sketchybook I, page 16 I have so many ideas! Ideas that are more than ideas, they are inspirations, notions, concepts, curiosities, paths, directions, lines of inquiry, journeys, compulsions. All I know is that it is these things, these “ideas” that make life rich and meaningful for us all.  Sketchybook I, page 26 As I write this, this artist book is a work in progress! I was recently on vacation Mexico. I tend to find sketchbooks drab and uninviting, so I decided to make a sketchbook of my own. I made a lovely hardback cover for it with a cloth binding. Then I collected a variety of paper and some left over painted collage papers. I tore or cut them down to size, then folded them in half to make pages. I used elastic bands to secure them temporarily into the cover. This way I can move the pages around if I want to. Armed with watercolor pencils, water soluble pens, markers, and a glue stick, I set up a place on the terrace of our Mexican vacation spot and worked a bit every day. Some of the images are abstract, and some are references to my surroundings and experience. I wrote text in some pages, mostly not. Some are lovely and sweet, a couple are sad, many are funny. Below is a slideshow of the book. You can watch from beginning to end, or you can pause it and look at the still images by hovering your cursor over it and clicking the "pause" button that appears in the upper left corner. When I got home, I still had space in my book for more work, so I made a “Chapter Two” page, and kept going. I have no intended narrative in mind, yet I still strive to create an arch of experience while making and viewing the book. Remember- there is more to come with this one!
So cool, I had to share it here.  I have always shot and edited the photographs of my art. It was a learning curve, for sure, but over the years, I think I got pretty good at it. Adventuring into the realm of book arts has posed an entirely new learning curve!
That, plus uneven lighting and askewed angles, laced with odd shadows. You see, the books don't lay flat, so I have to hold the pages down with pokey things and edit them out later, and my arms cast shadows all over everything. I knew something had to be done. The Wonder of YouTube
 Analyze, page 9c Below is a little video of my DIY photo lightbox. If you would like to see more of my artist book Analyze, you can see it HERE.
It's a big, beautiful machine, weighing in at probably 30 pounds!  I recently took a new creative direction by making artist books, where I utilize collage materials and text. Rather than merely depicting typewriters, I wanted to actually TYPE stuff and integrate it into my books. So, I wrestled my Woodstock back into my car and had it repaired at Type Space, Portland’s Vintage Typewriter Shop!
Below is a video of me tussling with my new contraption. In the video, I am writing a piece about having ADHD, which I will use in my new artist book, Analyze. Curiously, the act of typing echoed what it can be like to have ADHD. The process was long and laborious, and the result is a bit messy and garbled, yet totally unique and beautiful in its own way. Typing also made me reflect on this unique moment in our history. Now our keyboards require a light touch, and with tools like spell check and AI, we can rattle off whatever pops into our head, unthinkingly. Combined with the web and social media, this can lead to oversharing, thoughtlessness, and even trolling. It made me imagine a world past when we had to be so deliberate with our communication-where everyone had to take a breath and consider each word before committing it to the page. The idea of doing an artist’s book has been rambling around in my head for… come to think of it, decades! I have made a few running starts at creating them over the years, but decided to focus on the more “practical” path of creating wall art I could more easily exhibit and sell. I even imagined that one day, when I “retired,” I would start. Well, I guess that day has come.
I have used the creation of What Is Next as a tool to help me process a new phase I am entering in my art career. (You can read more about this in my blog entry What's Next: Reflections on a Career in Art.) It has no real narrative, but loosely explores themes relating to the transitory cycle I am in right now. I used stencils, collage materials, and sketches that I’d originally developed for larger pieces in my Archeology and Art series. I had a wonderful time making some fold-out pages- something I want to expand upon in future books. Below you can see a slideshow of each page, or you can click on the thumbnails below for a still shot. In 2007, I launched upon a project.
I wanted to make something of myself. I worked hard to create a cohesive body of work in a style I felt viewers would enjoy and want to own. I built a website and learned the basics of self-marketing. I answered calls to exhibit. Eventually, I got gallery representation. My career was on an upward trajectory—better galleries, better shows, more sales, and higher prices for my work. Until…
The upshot is that the first eight years of my career was ascendant, and the second eight years have been a retraction, to the extent that, for the large part, I’m back pretty much to where I started- or at least where I was in about 2011. Maybe if I had worked harder, things it would have gone differently. Perhaps if I had made better choices here and there, I would have had a different outcome. But truthfully, probably not- at least not substantially. The Bigger Picture I knew that being an artist was hard. I just didn’t know how hard. Perhaps I was naïve.
And I have changed. I was approaching my 40th birthday when I started- now I’m 56! The man who was then simply my boyfriend is now my devoted husband. I’ve lost both of my parents. And I’ve gone through that infamous hormonal transformation that compels every woman to experience a fundamental shift in perspective. I’m unbelievably fortunate. I have love, support, fun activities, and close relationships with family and friends. In truth, I have an absolutely wonderful life- the question is: how do I want to spend it? I do know one thing: I want to keep creating.  A page from my journal. My work has gotten more personal as the years have gone by. More personal, and frankly, better. My direction may not be to everyone’s taste, but its complexity and depth has grown with experience. I am a better artist now than I was 16 years ago, and I intend to get better.
In the meantime, I’m deeply exploring what drives me to create—the "prime mover" behind my art. My hope is to eventually be fully aligned with that force.  Seahenge 36x24 on two panels ©Leslie Peterson Sapp "Seahenge" is a misnomer. But, when it was excavated in 1998, a clever journalist called it "The Stonehenge of the Sea," and the name stuck.
Seahenge, however, is a timber circle, created in about 2049 BCE.
Actually, there were many more timber circles than there are stone circles. Wood, however, decomposes.
Unless, of course, the wood exists in a low-oxygen environment. From the Salt-marsh to the Sea This monument was not, in fact, built on the beach. Back in 2049 BCE, sea levels were lower than now. Back then, the site of Seahenge was a salt marsh, teeming with wildlife- and sodden, low-oxygen soil. The tree trunks decomposed above the marsh, but endured in the marshy soil. Eventually, the sea inundated the marsh, and the remains of the timber monument hibernated beneath the sea floor.  Seahenge. photo: Andy Burnham Then, in 1998, two amateur archeologists on the southwestern coast of England found some bronze axe heads and espied some unusual bits of wood sticking up from the sand. Sea tides had scooped away the sand and exposed the stubs of tree trunks. They notified the local museum, and experts quickly realized the significance of their find.
Oak trees do not grow in salt marshes, and it is thought that the trees were transported quite a long distance. The fact that a timber circle was preserved at all was noteworthy. But what makes Seahenge so astonishing is the up-turned oak tree in its center. The Inverted Oak Tree  Seahenge trunk being excavated. Photo: Norfolk Museums Collection The oak tree trunk is a much larger tree than the rest; it measures 8 feet and weighs over a ton. As soon as the wood of the trunk and timbers were exposed to the air, they started to deteriorate rapidly. They were all removed and went through an elaborate preservation process, involving fresh water tanks, a special wax, and polyethylene glycol, which gradually strengthened the cell structure of the wood.
Sky Burial A sky burial is when human remains are left to decompose with the help of carrion birds. It's a practice most notable in Tibet and historically with some North American tribes. The remains are situated in some way to facilitate consumption by birds, and discourage consumption by larger animals, which would dismember and move the body around. The point is to have the remains excarnated, without being totally ravaged. Sometimes the body is elevated on a platform or tree. In the case of Seahenge, the remains were placed in the bowl-like shape of the tree root system, then the protective timber circle was constructed to keep larger animals away. The Tree of Life and Death But none of this answers the question: Why an inverted tree? Why not just a platform like what is in Holme II, another timber circle only 100 meters away? It could be that the tree root system simply created that bowl-like shape, suitable for cradling human remains. But I don’t think so. It seems to me it’s meant to imply the tree continues downward under the earth, into the underworld. My interpretation may be influenced by what I have learned about The Journey of the Sun, a Nordic Bronze Age theology, where it is believed the sun travels across the sky during the day, and then returns under the earth to rise again the next day. (To learn more about The Journey of the Sun, read my blog entries about The Sun’s Nocturnal Return, The Nebra Sky Disc, and Tree Burial I & II.) The Seahenge monument is from the Neolithic, and predates the Bronze Age by many centuries. But it still implies to me that there was a conception of an underworld, a place where the deceased go, mimicking the sun’s decent. This idea of cycles- day and night, life and death- is echoed in the inverted tree, symbolizing an upside-down world.  Seahenge Photo: Andy Burnham Having said all this, my art isn’t just about objects and places from the past; it’s also about the passage of time and how we regard these objects and places now. So, even though this monument was created in a salt marsh, and wasn’t some beach driftwood sculpture, it’s inundation by the sea effects my imagination. The moment I saw images of it, I couldn’t help but envision this inverted oak tree as living under the sea, upside down in a subterranean ocean. My Artistic Process I am not actually that great of a shopper. I know it seems strange to think of this activity as a skill, but believe me, it is. My husband excels at shopping. He seems to relish it, knows what he wants, and never wanders into a store half-cocked. I, on the other hand, often launch forth without researching, without calling, just wandering out assuming that whatever it is I want will just be there waiting for me. This time was such a moment. I have been really good and disciplined about CALLING the art store before going to make sure they have the panel size I want. But this time, for some reason, I didn't. I just went. Following the visual impression in my mind, I wanted a 36x24 panel. They didn't have it. But when I am in this state of mind, it is difficult for me to accept the brutal fact that I should have called and now I have to go to another art store... or change my plans.
When done, I started to create bubble-like marks below. I did this by spraying or sprinkling rubbing alcohol on the acrylic paint, waiting a moment, then rubbing it off. The alcohol temporarily breaks down the acrylic so that it can be removed. The result is a speckling effect. I also dipped plastic lids of different sizes in rubbing alcohol, placed them on the panel to create little circles of alcohol, and then rubbing that off. The effect looks like a transparent bubble. 
After working on that top half for a while, I had to tackle the under-water tree.
But in this case, the tree is upside down.
But the main act of painting was not the tree itself, but the water around it. Again using rubbing alcohol, I misted the panel, then used a rag to scrub away paint slightly, creating a back-lit effect around the tree. Using this technique, I created a luminous, sparkling atmosphere. Cycles of Life and Death As is so often the case in this series of Archeology Art, my subject ultimately is about the Life/Death cycle. We humans commonly reassure ourselves by believing that we don’t really die. Our loved ones still exist somewhere, and that when we die, we will go there too. Some visions on the afterlife are pretty bleak, some are frightening, and some are comforting. But it’s almost universal to believe in something other than the notion that when we die, we are simply… gone. It sounds macabre, and often it is. But just as often it is life-affirming, not nihilistic. Especially when the exploration of life's cycles results in monuments, or simple paintings, of beauty and wonder. Seahenge 36x24 on two panels ©Leslie Peterson Sapp ** There has been real controversy related to the excavation and removal of Seahenge. Neo-pagan groups have stated that it desecrated the intentions of the ancestors. Partly because of this, Holme II- another timber circle built nearby at the same time as Seahenge- has been left in situ. It's deterioration, due to the elements and its exposure to oxygen, is being studied by archeologists.
The Sun's Nocturnal Return 30x30 Acrylic, charcoal, conte, archival pen on collage on panel.  The Sun's Nocturnal Return 30x30 ©Leslie Peterson Sapp
My Artistic Process
But, surprisingly...
But then I watched an online lecture about the petroglyphs and learned that the red paint is a modern treatment, and that if the petroglyphs are left clear, but photographed with raked light (such as dawn, sunset, or at night with a single light source,) the viewer can have a far richer experience.  Sotetorp 3561. Tanum parish. Bohuslän. After Almgren 1983. This image is from a site named Tanum Sotetorp in Sweden. It depicts a solar ship, with two horned creatures with axes and swords flanking a crew of anonymous, peg-like rowers. Hovering above the ship is a man or creature or god executing a back-bend or a flip. I learned doing Tree Burial I that a dancer doing a back-bend may have been symbolic of the sun on it's return journey, a reversal, a cycle. It seemed perfect for The Sun's Nocturnal Return. Using charcoal and white chalk, I was able to produce a more satisfying rendition of the solar boat.
I also went to town elaborating on the water-sky marks that look like splashes, bubbles, or heavenly bodies. I did this by spraying or sprinkling rubbing alcohol on the acrylic paint, waiting a moment, then rubbing it off. The alcohol temporarily breaks down the acrylic so that it can be removed. The result is the speckling effect. I love doing this. It's so fun. Adding Text Next, I engaged with the text. Using some typewriter-style stencils, I wrote text across the sky and under the sea. It is a bit off-kilter, and uneven in its color, as if your typewriter became possessed and tried to send you messages from beyond.  The Journey of the Sun Across the Sky  The Sun's Nocturnal Return Across the top and the bottom on the piece, I inserted text, as if a storyteller was accompanying the visual language of my art.  The Sun's Nocturnal Return Next, I added the same text using gold "interference" paint. Interference paint has a pearlescent, iridescent effect that changes depending on the angle you view it, and is very difficult to photograph. I also enclosed the back-bending figure in an iridescent orb, reminiscent of the sun. I bandied back and forth with how pronounced or obscured all the lettering would be. A lot of painting, then wiping off.  The Hjortspring Boat - Deposited in a Bog as a Votive Offering In addition to the sky-sea text, I included text in reference to the Hjortspring Boat. in contrast to the crazy, possessed typewriter font in the sea-sky, this text is very clear, calm, and of this world. Utimately, I have created a tiny, animate world, where the stars leap across the cosmos, the sun is ferried by a boat full of oarsmen, and we on the earthly plane try with our orderly plans to make sense of it all. The Sun's Nocturnal Return 30x30 ©Leslie Peterson Sapp Tree Burial II is a veritable layer cake of symbols and artistic impulses. Follow along to untangle this gritty, glorious web.  Tree Burial II ©Leslie Peterson Sapp Tree Burial II is a continuation of images and concepts I developed for Tree Burial I and The Nebra Sky Disc. It is a free-wheeling jazz riff on elements I gleaned during research for these pieces, elements including, but not limited to:
You can learn more about the two pieces that inspired all this crazy scientist research by reading the blog entries I have written for them. Click on their titles just below. The Nebra Sky Disc Tree Burial I Cosmological Seacraft
In my research I learned about something called The Journey of the Sun.
With the assistance of various cosmological creatures, the Sun traverses the arch of the sky, and at night, completes its return journey beneath the land and sea to reemerge the following day. This cycle of light and dark, day and night, symbolizes the cyclical nature of life and death.
This led me to learn more about ancient boat construction, and the various experimental archeology projects that seek to reconstruct found boat remains.  Reconstruction plan of the Hjortspring Boat Sun Spirals
Anni Brøgger is a professional dancer who did her own form of experimental archeology. She performed a dance wearing a copy of Egtved Girl's costume. During the dance, the sun glinted and danced through the spirals on the shiny bronze belt plate. In a time with no lights and very little reflective metal, it must have seemed like magic. My Artistic Process Confession: I tend to overthink things.
Not so, with this piece. Tree Burial II started its life as a 48x40 drawing on a roll of watercolor paper. After working on it a bit, I changed course and purchased an even larger, 60x40 wood panel, which became Tree Burial I. I put the original drawing aside. But then I was seized by the desire to... tear it up!
Visual Impressions People sometimes ask where I get my ideas. Well, I often get visual impressions in my mind, which serve as a launching point.
Geometric Tendencies I find myself attracted to square and double-square formats. In this case, I used a 48x24 panel, which I stained with burnt umber to bring out the wood grain, referring to the wood of the tree and tree coffin.
I love the fishes twirling and consuming each other, with the calm presence of the Madonna in the center. It brings to mind the Ouroboros, another symbol of the life/death cycle. Solar Boat Petroglyphs Spurned on by my fascination with The Journey of the Sun, I sought out Nordic solar boat images that would suit. Most surviving examples are from Scandinavian Petroglyphs.
Following a Trail
An addendum to this entry is that Tree Burial I begat yet another piece about boats, stars, and sun-cycles entitled The Sun's Nocturnal Return. You can see and read about it HERE.  Tree Burial II 48x24 Acrylic, collage, charcoal, conte, archival ink, acrylic heavy gel on panel Appendix: Want to make an infinity symbol? For a MAC, press Option 5 on the keyboard. For everybody else, hold the ALT key and type 236 on the number keypad on the right of your keyboard. ∞
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