Thursday, September 11, 2014

The Willow Witch with Grandpa aka Zeus

The Willow Witch and Grandpa
Oil
16 x 20
Judy Vars
$350.00

Rhonda also known as the Willow Witch is sitting pretty sipping absinthe with her familiar and faithful dog “Grandpa.”  The Willow Witch offers intuitive readings and will use her powers of perception and piercing eyes to council you and help guide you down a positive path.

From potent potions, herbs, incense, candles, crystals and oils, stop in and shop with Rhonda for all your witchy needs.

The Willow Witch also offers beautiful Tarot decks, jewelry, staffs, clothes, brooms, the original artwork of local artisans and other beautiful curiosities. For your prurient interests you will be more than satisfied - guaranteed.
62835 South Parks Hwy, Willow, Alaska
mile marker 85.5




8 x 10 Prints
$80.00



Cards
$5.00 Each

Monday, May 05, 2014

Costa Rican Girl With Fruit Basket




Costa Rican Girl With Fruit Basket
20 X 20
Encaustic Beeswax
by
Judy Vars and Gabriela Catarinella
600.00

This painting is a result of a happy happenstance.  We went to the Talentum Art Gallery to meet my bohemian friend Martha Sanchez.  Outside the gallery we noticed chairs placed on the wall in a colorful cavorting way, then we go inside this place is twaneese, twaneese, too nice, too nice. Talentum is located in the historic French district of San Jose, in an old mansion.  Peter and I looked at all the great art upstairs and downstaris and then sat down for some coffee and pie. Gilda (pronounced Hilda) runs the show and makes pies out of tropical fruit we've never tasted anything so deliciouso.  Sebastian the Chef/Artist is divine.  Martha  shows her art here and introduced me to a brilliant woman Gabrela Catarinella, besides being an artist, speaks multiple languages, she is a microbiologist, and the director of this beautiful gallery and bistro.

When she found out I was an encaustic artist she became very interested and asked me to teach her the process. She had already purchased some wax sheets and turpentine, I sent her after a heat gun and some natural bristle brushes. She bought us a gourmet lunch and after closing all of us went to the kitchen downstairs. I demonstrated encaustic painting and Gabriela took over together we painted wax all over her beautiful landscape. We had a blast!

Afterword Gabriela offered to pay me, ridiculous! I said, so she gave me her oil painting of a child and told me to put encaustic wax on top of it.  Well I was so humbled and grateful to be allowed to paint on another’s painting, I hope she approves.  We did not have all the equipment that we needed but it was just enough to get the idea and get her hooked on encaustic painting.  This slide show is for Gabriela.  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qOJ4cxlZQw


Thursday, January 30, 2014

Winter Morning Birch Trees





Winter Morning Birch Trees
Judy Vars
Original Oil and Cold Wax Painting
60 x 54
4,500.00



As a long time Alaskan, I've noticed that were all obsessed with the sun and with most in the winter there is not enough sunshine to keep my mood up and in the summer there is too much sun, it shines way, way, way  past sleeptime keeping me awake and hyper all night long. Today in January the days have started to get a little longer currently the hours of daylight are a full seven hours and 30 minutes.

This time of year the slanted angle of the sun and the far Northern latitude make for the most spectacular sunrises and sunsets that I have ever witnessed. Sometimes the light is pure lavender in the sky and on the mountains, sometimes the sky in powder blue, sometimes it’s lit up like a campfire, and sometimes it’s every shade of pink God makes. Since I’ve lived here I have seen sundogs, ice halos around the sun and the moon, phantom lights that I can’t explain and northern lights. One thing for sure it’s never ho-hum .

As an artist and nature lover, I have contemplated the sunlight and the atmosphere for decades, and as an artist I have the hubris to attempt to duplicate what I see in nature through my art.

Winter Sunrise and Birch Trees has been a labor of love. At the beginning I applied the Fibonacci sequence and the golden mean to make a pleasing composition (this left brained activity made my head hurt) This painting was developed in stages some areas have up to 10 layers of paint. To pump up the paint and give the birch trees added texture and dimension I used cold wax medium, the effect is one of hyper reality. The kind of experience we Alaskans wish the rest of the world could experience. 



Treat yourself to some serenity take this morning sunrise birch tree painting home today.




Friday, December 13, 2013

Winter Trees

Winter Trees
16 x 20
Encaustic Beeswax
Judy Vars
 
 
This was painted with encaustic beeswax, layers and layers of waxy paint create the luscious snow texture. This technique known as accretion makes this type of encaustic painting a little unstable, so it requires a little extra care, so don't throw it around and bang it up against other things or put it in direct sunlight or anywhere over 160 degrees!

 

Wednesday, December 04, 2013

The Cave Girl

Cave Girl
Oil
16 X 20
Judy Vars

My “Cave Girl” was reproduced after Alaska’s most renowned artists, Sydney Mortimer Laurence. I was interested in studying his tonalist methods and the overall atmosphere of this painting. Sydney Lawrence has always been somewhat of an enigma with many stories and myths surrounding him. Gold Fever lured him to Alaska in 1903 and in 1912 he resumed painting. 

 “Cave Woman” is a diversion from Sydney’s usual style which is very large landscapes and one of the few paintings which feature the human figure as the main focus. Sydney was a romantic painter in the style of the late 19th century romantic period artists, he is best known for his use of light and the massive scale of his paintings needed to capture Mt. McKinley and the Alaskan landscape. This and many more of his original paintings are displayed at the Alaska Heritage Museum, inside the Wells Fargo Bank, 301 West Northern Lights Blvd, Anchorage, Alaska. The museum manager, Tom D. Bennett was kind enough to allow me to take photographs of this painting; he informed me this was in the home of the President of the Alaska Railroad for years before becoming part of the Rasmuson’s permanent collection and is worth an estimated $150,000.00.
I have been unable to locate any other pictures of this work, however prints were made.

The original painting is large 40 x 60 (approximately) and contained is a grand gold baroque frame with electric candle sconces on each side; this I imagine created a mysterious flickering effect on the painting when turned on. I am on the hunt for a frame for this when I find it I plan to make candle sconces on each side, I will then take a video of this for your viewing pleasure. Or better yet come to Alaska and see it for yourself.

Monday, November 04, 2013

The Desert Metaphor or The Tree of Utah and My Desert Metaphor

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

         











Metaphor: The Tree of Utah, sometimes called the Tree of Life, is an 87-foot (27 m) sculpture that was created by the Swedish artist Karl Momen in the 1980s and dedicated in 1986. It is located in the desolate Great Salt Lake Desert of Utah on the north side of Interstate 80 about 25 miles east of Wendover. ]
Inscribed on the plaque are the words from Ode to Joy by Friedrich Schiller;
Be embraced, Millions!
This kiss for all the world!
Brothers!, above the starry canopy
A loving father must dwell.
Joy, beautiful spark of Gods!,
Daughter of Elysium,
Joy, beautiful spark of Gods!
 My Desert Metaphor
The desert has it's very own mystery and beauty especially at night. My home range is the flat lands of the Great Salt Lake.
In my childhood, I remember my family driving from Salt Lake City to my Grandma Schauers house in  Dublin, California.  Late - late into the night my mother and I go speeding down the straight lonely Interstate 80 our family's ostentatious pink and black Buick.
In the blue velvet sky is the meteor shower of the century occurring right then and there. 
Mom turns off the headlights and we drive for awhile through the blackness by luck and instincts.
Neither of us had never beheld a shower of falling meteors before and probably never witness this phenomenon again in my lifetime.   

What is that old saying? is it: When a star falls an angel loses it's wings? or when you wish upon a falling star your wish will come true?  A shooting star tonight will bring you good luck tomorrow? Mom and I discuss these metaphors, we talk of the wonders of God's universe sharing our heart of hearts.
For a moment in infinity speeding down the lonely desert highway, Mom and I are in complete accord.


The Desert Metaphor
Encaustic Painting
12x24
Judy Vars
$250.00

Friday, October 25, 2013

Trumpeter Swan

 
Swan
Judy Vars
Encaustic Beeswax
12x24
550.00 
 



 
This is a painting of the one of the trumpeter swans that stopped by my dock with their signets.  I got up close and personal with the whole flock they stop by every spring and summer for some bread and a photo opportunity. This one was posing for the camera and giving me cheesy smiles.
They do not make their nest on Beverly Lake because the loons drive them off, this is loon territory!

 In a few days they will be taking off to warmer southern climates. When they take off and fly it is a sight and sound to behold, it’s like a jumbo jet with their large bodies trying to gain enough air speed to fly, they flap and run across the water making a loud trumpeting sound until they are airborne. It’s totally awesome!

Winter is really breathing down our necks, yesterday it hailed which made the lake look like it was boiling there is a winter chill in the air. All too soon it will be frozen solid, the snow will be deep and I’ll be inside cozy by the fire.

 
Peace is with you dear readers.


Thursday, October 24, 2013

Monday, October 21, 2013

The Haunted Fairview Inn - Talkeetna, Alaska

 
The Smoking Room at the Fairview Inn
Talkeetna, Alaska
Original Oil
10x14
125.00
 
 
Talkeetna's Fairview Inn was built in 1923, President Harding stayed there with his mistress and then died shortly thereafter it is no secret it is a very haunted place!  Last weekend I went there with a couple of friends after a long day of meetings and fellowship with the women some of us decided to go to the Fairview Inn. We strolled in to the loud music and hang with the denizens of Talkeetna.  I asked the bartender for a cold near-beer and asked, is this place is haunted? she said; of course it is haunted!

I sarcastically joked, you should have the Ghost Hunters (a television show on the Travel Channel) come for a lock down and they can set up the night vision cameras, ghost recorder, and yell at them all night. She just laughed sardonically and kept busy with the other bar patrons.

Being the curious cat that I am, I wandered upstairs to explore the hotel part of the Fairview Inn.
At the end of a narrow hallway he door was open to a quaint sparsely furnished room, It felt weirdly like I had been there before or seen it in a dream a small old black and white television was on and oddly playing a 1930's Laurel and Hardy movie. When suddenly the room got much colder and goose bumps rose on my arms and my hair began to stand on end like static electricity. My friend followed me up the steep stairway was standing frozen in the hallway flapping her hands, screeching and flipping out! She said she had never felt her hair stand on end like that before. With my camera in hand I got one picture of the room before the batteries completely drained. We ran out into the bar hysterically laughing and freaking out at the same time. In a crazy high voice that sounded to me like I was in shock,I said, "there is a ghost upstairs!!" and the bartender said; "Oh that's just Frank!" Oh-My-God lady you might have warned us! But then where is the fun in that?

For more ghost stories read this book - Ghosts of Talkeetna by Sarah J. Birdsall http://www.angusrobertson.com.au/book/ghosts-of-talkeetna/41985064/

Sunday, October 13, 2013

TITLE:Ghosty Girl #2
MEDIUM: Encaustic Collage
ARTIST: Judy Vars
PRICE: 120.00
 
Once Upon a Time I was staying overnight at a retreat the Saint Mary's Art Center formally the old hospital in Virginia City, Nevada. Virginia City was a boom town with something going on 24 hours a day for its nearly 30,000 residents. There were visiting celebrities, Shakespeare plays, opium dens, newspapers, competing fire companies, fraternal organizations, at least five police precincts, a thriving red-light district, and the first Miner's Union in the U.S. The International Hotel was six stories high and boasted the West's first elevator, called a rising room, instant millionaires built ostentatious mansions. Today the town has less than 500 residents. I was a denizn of Virginia City for a time, it drew me there like a magnet. I can tell you from experience the town is haunted! I lived in town but the ladies at the artist retreat invited me to stay overnight. We had some fun getting ready for bed, putting our hair in curlers and telling stories about our family. Soon I fell asleep, then I was awakened by a sound like an old wood screen door banging. I fell back asleep and soon experienced the feeling of someone stroking my neck and running their fingers sensuously down the inside of my arm and palm and talking softly in my ear. I remember how good it felt and then I woke up saying: "Oh shit! this is real!". I rose from my bed to explore the haunted hospital, sometimes I wonder why and where I got the courage to explore the halls of this abandoned hospital alone but I did. The hair on the back my neck was standing up my fear was palpable (it tastes metallic). Out through the window at the end of the hallway was the old cemetery named Our Mother of Sorrows, the full moon was casting tombstone moon shadows on the ground. I took a ghost picture on the grass in front of the hospital which I have since lost. I am haunted still today by the town and the spirits in my dreams. The next morning I asked the ladies if they noticed anything unusual and they said noooooo??? So I kept my nocturnal adventures to myself.

 

Thursday, September 26, 2013

The Secret

The Secret
original oil
Judy Vars
16 x 20
650.00

 
Nighttime in my secret garden is not for the faint of heart, but for those brave souls who dare to walk down the moonlit path there are spirits to meet and greet.

One particular night in an old and forgotten cemetery, I took a midnight stroll around the graveyard reading the epitaphs of the long forgotten. When goose bumps raise the hairs on my neck and I can taste copper in my throat alerting me that I am not alone. In the mist I see a beautiful young angel backlit by the moon; a Raven is perched on her shoulder. My mind and body is paralyzed by fear. Then the raven spoke to me in his native tongue - a language that I somehow understood.
 
The Raven said to me:
 
Wise men understand that what the physical eye sees is not necessarily the truth.
I am the harbinger of messages from the cosmos. Nestled in my wings black as midnight I bring messages that are beyond space and time. Listen with the heart so that you might hear the message waiting for you.
 
So I listen:
 
The Raven expounds of life, love, harmony, sacredness, balance, and the great mystery, he went on for what seemed like hours, as I listen and vow to myself to remember every word. Soon the spell is lifted and I am released from my paralysis.  As the Raven finishes up its diatribe I find my voice and say:  “Mister Raven, if it is not asking too much, please carry my love to the others.”

After awhile my mind catches up with this otherworldly scene and I realize it is just a granite angel and a common raven.
Besides,  I rationalize, who would believe my story anyway.
 




Thursday, August 01, 2013

The Magic Hours In My Neck of the Woods by Judy Vars

The Midnight Sun


What is your favorite time of the day?

Do you love sunrise surprises? Do you enjoy the noon hours white light?

Or the early evening hours with glorious sunsets?

June 21st holds the honor of being the longest day of the year. In my neck of the woods (Wasilla, Alaska), that day provides us with twenty hours of daylight. This extravagant length of hours seems to slow time and confuses our understanding of morning, noon, and night.

My tradition is to stay up all night on the Summer Solstice. I’ve heard it said Alaska is an insomniac’s paradise. Suffering from a bit of insomnia myself, I can attest to the difficulty of trying to put oneself to bed when the sun still shines. On the solstice, I don’t even try.
My personal favorite time of the day this time of the year has always been the window of magic hours from 10:30 p.m. to midnight.

The sun goes down slowly, during this period displaying a long and glorious sunset. After sunset the light stays in a suspended state somewhere between day and night.  Old Sol hovers just behind the horizon, casting a filtered light of lavender as a Prussian blue sky and crimson shadows imbue the scene with an otherworldly glow. I often sit quietly in my secret garden next to my lake carefully observing the various elements in my surroundings. As an artist I mentally translate the colors I see into pigments.  Inspired to attempt to capture the essence of what I am experiencing. At these moments I think of something Vincent Van Gough wrote to his brother, Theo: "One of the most beautiful things by the painters of this century has been the painting of darkness that is still color.”  I feel like one of those artists as I sit and contemplate how to capture the essence of the midnight sun onto canvas – how to paint the darkness that still has color.
For now, I am content to enjoy the midnight sun, as soon enough it will be night most of the day.  But the long winter’s night is magical, as well.  Oh the sights you can see:  the Milky Way, the aurora, nighttime so clear and clean you can see planets and galaxies with the naked eye! Sunrises, sunsets and stars “oh my.”  At the Winter Solstice (shortest day of the year) it is my tradition to stay in my new flannel pajamas all day long no matter what. Tradition is a cozy thing.

My passion is art, but whatever your passion is, Alaska’s brings her best to each one, graciously providing heavenly peeks into the world around us that cannot be found anywhere else.



Monday, June 17, 2013

Yes it takes alot of soul to have the balls or ballettes to say "I am an artist"

I love our discussions with our resident art critic Gregg Gusse and am flattered that he makes out conversations into articles. Please read the following comments and critiques are always appreciated, but not always implemented.

Art School: Copycat
by Gregory Gusse

At a recent discussion in my home the question came up as to whether an artist deserved the award she received. The issue was the work was an exact replication even in spirit to what her master had taught her.
I, of course, asked was it a craft competition or an art competition and said, if an art competition then no, never, not at all. Replication, is a craft it does not meet the definition, even the most banal definition found in dictionaries of art.
Here are four from the Free Dictionary:
1. One, such as a painter, sculptor, or writer, who is able by virtue of imagination and talent or skill to create works of aesthetic value, especially in the fine arts.
2. A person whose work shows exceptional creative ability or skill: You are an artist in the kitchen.
3. One, such as an actor or singer, who works in the performing arts.
4. One who is adept at an activity, especially one involving trickery or deceit: a con artist.
It is #4 that Degas was on to...
1. virtue of imagination, 2.exceptional creative ability 3. performing art 4 and all the others like the woman in question CON ARTIST.
Why would I say such a thing when even Picasso said “art is theft”. T.S Eliot said in better words than I will ever wield what I am getting at; “Immature poets imitate, mature poets steal, bad poets deface what they take and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different. The good poet welds his theft into a whole feeling which is unique, utterly different from that from which it was torn.”
We all learn from route copying. I suspect every poet I know remembers learning to write his letters, with big blocks of dotted outlines we heavily crayoned over that resembled so facsimile of A or B or even C. And when that was mastered, in first grade would come cursive and pencils and then ten or twenty or even fifty years might go by and those learned letters just might have become words and an original assemblage of other peoples ideas might, just might become a poem.
I was listening to some TED talk thirteen year old genius college professor who had been imprisoned by autism when he was young. He said he was saved when he decided to stop learning and start thinking and creating. It was even more compelling because I had suggested the same thing to a young artist. To become an artist she would have to quit copying the brush work and colors of others, stop learning, and steal their thoughts and meanings and merge them with her own and create. I hope she does!
You may be in school painting for the Master with the Masters signature. You may forever make perfect copies and perhaps you should be given awards for such renderings. Grand Champion Copycat for instance. Learning and learning in pursuit of perfect learning. But an artist educates themselves, frees themselves. Slaves learn but seldom see freedom, free folks think for themselves.
Creativity, meaning, imagination, separate the mundane from the artist. These qualities define art not craftiness, as helpful as technical precision may be to the artist. Individualism is another trait. Cezanne, Picasso, Gauguin, van Gogh, Monet, Manet stole from each other like crazy but each stood out as their own soul.
It takes soul to be an artist.
 

Friday, May 17, 2013

An interesting article by my friend Gregg Gusse where he writes about our recent conversation and pulls my covers.

Art School: Rambling
by Gregory Gusse

I was lunching with Judy Vars at the Red Beet when the topic came up about...artists. The issue
was the “it is all about me” attitude of most (actually all successful) artists. She didn’t want to
be like that, she wanted to be sweet and compassionate - but “me, me, me” is required. She
started to realize that when reading her latest Rasmuson rejection letter.

The buddha nature so desired by thinking beings is contrary to artistic expression. Simply put
they are opposite pursuits. Where our little buddha internalizes emotion our little artist demands
emotion be externalized. Where our tiny buddha seeks to be compassionate our leather-winged
artist demands attention and love - inside outside!

For normal people, not budding bodhisattvas or Rembrandts, we try to find balance between
those extremes, or if we are Taoist we try to find harmony with the yin and yang of it all. Artists,
though, are by their very essence extremists. If they are any good, or even bad, but passionate.

I am not saying that abandoning inner peace for the turmoil of art is bad, not at all. Though I
am frequently torn in which direction to go; I see value to both. Apparently I can get pretty nasty
when facing this dilemma, so I can be empathetic to the questioning artist.

There is the necessity to blow one’s own horn, remember the poet, Ali, “float like a butterfly,
sting like a bee”. “I am the greatest”, he reminded us. Or as van Gogh put it, “What am I in the
eyes of most people — a nonentity, an eccentric, or an unpleasant person — somebody who
has no position in society and will never have; in short, the lowest of the low. All right, then —
even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an
eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart. That is my ambition, based less on resentment than
on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion. Though I
am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me. I
see paintings or drawings in the poorest cottages, in the dirtiest corners. And my mind is driven
towards these things with an irresistible momentum.”  Yes the dirtiest corners! Apparently he
had a very different vision of himself than he figured most people had of him. In both cases it
was “all about me!”

Another reason artists need to be “all about me” are the damned critics. Since well in excess
of 90% of the work of the very best artist is schlock and the worst artists will tell you over 95%
of their work is the greatest stuff (a word in contention concerning art) the world has ever seen,
there is an obvious disconnect - a  cognitive dissonance  they say these days.

Critics, of course, are needed to keep the pants on the emperor but more so they provide that much
needed attention. As the artist Brendan Behan said “There is no such thing as bad publicity except your
own obituary” So buck up my little friends. And as a critic myself I am reminded,  “Nobody ever
lost a dollar by underestimating the taste of the American public.” ― P.T. Barnum

After several years of writing this column I  feel more like Vincent everyday. I’m pretty sure I
write great and meaningful things, like he said “a blazing hearth in one's soul and yet no one
ever came to sit by it. Passersby see only a wisp of smoke from the chimney and continue on
their way.” But it really isn’t a way to make friends - sooner or later you piss everyone off.

It isn’t easy being an artist, since an artist has no choice in the matter. Jung pointed out that it is
much more than a simple compulsion, this “me,me,me” stuff. An artist simply has to make art. I
am not so sure our buddhist HAS to meditate. The buddhist seems to have a universe of choice,
the artist none. For the rest of us the truly sad state is so many folks compelled to make art are
really crumby. The rule says an artist must make art. There is no quality clause.

So next time, my enlightened friends, you see an artist rambling on at a million miles a minute
about his or her wonderful art or some whacked concept or even how they have to sling burgers
instead of make art...be compassionate..

Friday, May 10, 2013

Betty - Mother's Day and Sweet Words

 
 
Betty Mae Wash
(photo taken in 1951)
1931-1998
 
M Is for the Many things she gave me,
O Means only that she’s growing Old.
T Is for the Tears she shed to save me,
H Is for her Heart of purest gold.
E Is for her Eyes with love light shining,
R Means Right and Right she’ll always be.
Put them all together, They spell MOTHER.
A word that means the world to me.
 


Friday, April 19, 2013

Raven Skull Vanitas

 

 
Raven Skull Vanitas
Original Oil
18X24
Judy Vars
550.00
 
In Skokomish tribal legend, snow-white raven stole the sun, moon, stars, water and fire back from
gray eagle at the request of the people. He hung the sun, moon and stars back up in the sky. He dropped the water, forming streams and lakes. He made fire available to the people, growing black from its smoke as he flew.

The black Raven is usually associated with the trickester and the creator, in North American native culture, able to pass between our world and the spirit world.

The raven either black or white brings the secrets of magic between our world and the spirit world.
Whether black or white the Raven is a powerful symbol and one I paint over and over.
.
Raven magic is powerful medicine that can give you the courage to enter the darkness of the void, which is the home of all that is not yet in form. The void is called the Great mystery. Great Mystery existed before all other things came into being.
Great Spirit lives inside the void and emerged from the Great Mystery.
Raven is the messenger of the void.

My Raven skull vanitas painting is so beautiful with pink arctic rose flowers and periwinkle forget- me-nots representing the spirit. The theme of spirit and duality reoccurs  frequently in my art. I find very satisfying the Yin and Yang philosophy; that in opposites lay the paradox that we are related to each other, in creation we need both sides. The Ravens are mythological birds which carry messages to the spirit world. Nothing is ever black and white. Yes these are this things I contemplate while creating my art.

Tuesday, April 02, 2013

Anthony a Modern Fayum Portrait

Anthony
Painted by Judy Vars
Encaustic on Panel
11x14
269.00

Happy he who drew you, and happy this wax that let itself be vanquished by your beauty. If only I could be transformed into a maggot or a crawling worm, that I might devour that wood!
 The Greek Anthology, XII, 90


Fayum Portraits http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fayum_mummy_portraits

One thing all these portraits have in common is their direct and hypnotic eyes looking as if suspended in the eternal now.
These faces from the past have fascinated humans for hundreds and thousands of years, each portrait gazes back upon us giving us a glimpse of their personalities; one who frowns with the brutal look of a soldier, a young girl with a mischievous smile and playful eyes, a middle aged woman who wears rare jewels and a melancholy smile. .

Meet Anthony an urbanite from both coasts Los Angeles and New York, a 21st century man captured in a modern day Fayum portrait using the same palette, tools and techniques from antiquity. The artists in the time of Alexander the great (332 BC) were the rock stars of the day respected and renowned for their talent.

Working with human subjects using encaustic beeswax is a painstaking process and is very challenging; however the art it produces is well worth the effort.  Encaustic painting entails: melting the beeswax, mixing it with dammar resin and pigments, layering the paint while still hot and liquid (it cools almost immediately), then fusing each layer with heat. Encaustic painting was described in writings by Pliny the Elder, 23 AD, the early artists used the same type of tools we use today with one notable exception, no electricity.  To flesh out the portraits I use heated sculpting tools to manipulate the wax and carving tools to scrape back layers and reveal what lies beneath. Encaustic wax is fleshy, malleable and perfect for icon painting because of its depth and luminosity.

"My medium encaustic painting is a part of the fabric of ancient man (having been with us before Marc Antony and Cleopatra had their infamous love affair), yet it is still viable and vibrant for story telling today."


Sunday, March 24, 2013

Geneva's Home in Weston, Idaho

Geneva's Home
Oil Painting
14x18x1
Judy Vars
328.00
 
Today is my mother Betty's birthday and I painted her childhood home for her birthday gift. This is the farm house in which she was raised. It was built in the late 1800s by my great grandparents; the house came from a kit in the Sears and Roebuck Catalogue.  My happiest memories as a child were there, reading fairy tales cradled in a tree, snooping through almost 100 years of stuff, teasing the stupid sheep, running and playing all day and at night seeing the Milky Way in all it's glory.

On a sentimental journey my sister Patty and I drove up to Weston, Idaho  we visited our dearly departed realitves at Weston's tiny cemetary and to see our Grandmothers abandoned house.
We were disappointed to see that the house had been torn down and the land and trees had been cleared for alfalfa.
The neighbor kids came over to see what we were doing there, we told them we were the granddaughters of the woman who used to live on this land. They were curious to know all about her. Geneva was her name she was a school teacher and a very eccentric woman, she loved to give birthday cards to everyone, and all-day-suckers to children to teach them to say; please and thank you. The kids and showed us that the house had been carefully disassembled and stored in a shed. They intend to reconstruct it again someday. Isn't that a wonderful plan?

My Mom, she passed in 1998 of Lou Gehrig’s disease. My mother was a very high strung person, she swore like a sailor and she could be very creative with her cuss words, you were foolish to get on her bad side. She was also the funniest, most generous, compassionate and genuinely kind person that I have ever known. Like a lot of gruff people they must maintain their hard shell outter shell to protect their gooey goodness inside.

Mom, you left us too soon, I always imagined you would always be around we would be old ladies together, mom and daughter shopping, lunching and watching The Days of our Lives together.

On days like this I miss you more.

Time and love has finally healed my heart, you were a the best mother that I could have had.
I hope that I was a good daughter to you also.

I love you and miss you more than I can say! 
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOTHER
Your Eldest Daughter
Judy

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Wax artist Judy Vars: Master on her lake or Sometimes it is all about me


Posted: Thursday, February 14, 2013 7:15 pm
PALMER — Often I write about art and artists. It is what I do. And though I like doing it, this piece is especially pleasing to me because I am writing about Judy Vars. Judy is the “real deal,” an artist’s artist. I have said before that “passionate” is the best word to describe this artist and her art.I should mention as disclosure that I own several of her works. I am terribly biased. And, in spite of being an artist (we all know how they can be!), Judy is a wonderful human being, kind, compassionate and thoughtful. She is a joy to work with.

 

 
 
Despite its ancient heritage, encaustic is very much part of modern art. Fritz Faiss (a student of Kandinsky) redeveloped the Punic wax techniques described in ancient Greek texts. None other than Jasper Johns and Diego Rivera were encaustic painters. Judy’s work is definitely symbolically modern, though it often pays homage to ancient iconography as well as ancient technique. This comingling, a sort of mental assemblage, is one reason her work is so compelling.
And it smells really good.
Because encaustics are wax, they can be rather topographical and sculpted. This translucent three-dimensionalism and wonderful odor of honey separates this medium from all others. Even though the complexity of the composition can equal any other painting media, the sensual complexity of encaustic far out shines any other. I love to smell and touch Judy’s work.
This sensual media is very apt for Judy. She exudes a jaunty sensuality and translucent depth as well. It would seem a symbiotic relationship exists between her and her work. That is not unusual for artists, but it seems more perfect here, more accessible and real. It could be the mortar and pestle where she grinds her pigments or maybe the cauldrons of hot beeswax perfuming her air with the essence of honey that fill her dreams with fanciful notion and her art with elixir.
Her work can be found from Talkeetna to Anchorage and even in Hollywood! Some of her more exotic pieces are found in exotic places like Wytchwood Herbal Shoppe in Willow while Arctic Rose on West 5th Avenue has many of her more conventional works. At Madd Matters in Palmer, she has had a number of successful shows and seminars over the years. She is also a perennial favorite at Art on Fire, the Alaska Museum of Transportation and Industry’s event celebrating hot arts in Wasilla.
Even album covers, like she did for the local band Theory of Hate.
In some ways Judy lives the idyllic life of the artist. She and her husband Peter (also an artist) have a cabin on a lake in the quiet Meadow Lakes area. True, she has all the worries and concerns of a modern woman, but her life as an artist seems protected and serene — spacious honey filled studio, and water and Alaska wonder out her windows. It is no surprise her whacky notions become sophisticated art. Between her heart and brain and her environment, things seem to flourish.
For the past seven years she has published her cabin fever in her Alaska blog, cabinfeverinalaska.blogspot.com. Interestingly, Judy writes as well as she paints. Her blog is an exploration of her work and both the trials that succeeded and those that weren’t as successful. Though it is impossible to fathom Judy’s mind, her clear and precise writing is interesting and refreshing.
I can’t say what will appreciate monetarily in the art world anymore. Things are rather strange. But if you should be so blessed as to own one of Judy’s pieces you and your heirs, for timeless generations, will enjoy the wonderful art. You will have invited Judy into your home and made her one of your family.
I’ve three of her works to describe. The ones pictured here.
The first “Alaska’s Venus Rising from the Sea” is a beautiful and somewhat comical composition. Venus is an amalgam of Botticelli hair, Venus de Milo torso, and the limbs and face of a neighbor girl. This is combined with a menagerie of Alaska sea mammals, a flock of terns and a cathedral of ice seeming to rise from rather than fall into the sea. Though there is no direct intent, perhaps a subconscious or channeled act, much of the Inuit and Inupiat myth of Sedna seems to saturate this painting.
The work is not an encaustic. It is an oil with a cold wax finish. The finish gives the work a soft, silky feel to the touch and a depth not available to varnishes. The work is a pleasant size of 36 inches by 42 inches, just right for the depiction.
The other is an incredible portrait of Martha Sanchez. Martha is a Costa Rican Buddhist. Judy has portrayed her in encaustic wax as Frida Kahlo in all her natural and spiritual symbolism. “Martha as Frida” is especially suited to encaustic wax. The color vibrancy and the three- dimensional qualities are simply outstanding. You have to touch her.
In this piece Judy has taken the representational aspects of portraiture and made it a real emotional work of art. She has done what every fine artist hopes to achieve, an exacting composition, a harmonious but not boring palette, a symbolic but accessible theme, an homage to past masters, and an exhibit of technical but artistic proficiency. “Martha as Frida” is 16-inch-by-20-inch encaustic beeswax on panel.
And then there is the striking death angel the centerpiece of her album cover for Theory of Hate. This is a 20-inch-by-20-inch encaustic beeswax on panel.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

A Vanitas Painting or the Transicence of Earthly Pleasures



Dolphin Skull, Tropical Flowers, Fruit and a Broken Mayan Artifact
12 x 9
Judy Vars
Oil Painting on Paper
Created December 21st 2012
Recently I learned of a fascinating genre of painting still life known as Vanitas.  I have created this type of art before,  I just did not know it had its own genre until now.  This type of painting flourished in the Netherlands around 1612-1656. These paintings contain an elaborate pictorial message, which contains moral undertones, such as relinquish earthly pleasures and pursue a meaningful spiritual life. Usually contained in a vanitas painting are skulls, books, clocks, shells, birds and other symbloism. The meaning is obviously the impermanence of life, flowers and fruit all in a state of dying or decay.
My vanitas painting was created at Dolphin Quest retreat in Costa Rica where I had access to real ancient Mayan Artifacts - monkey skulls, dolphin skulls, turtle skulls, and even Cayman skulls. I was fortunate enough to borrow these objects to create a still life or “VANITAS”.  The dolphin skull reminds us of our precious wildlife, reminding us to care for and protect these magnificent creatures. The tropical flowers  have a short but beautiful life bringing us so much joy. The ancient artifacts from the Mayan civilization remind us of our mortality and ruin.  My vanitas painting contains all these elements.. 

In the jungle rain forest there is a staggering abundance of life and nature. While living in the jungle it was apparent that everything is in a constant state of birth, death and decay, and all this going on at a amazingly fast rate. I learned not be too attached to things.  My computer filled with thousands of tiny ants which seemed to enjoy the electrical buzz.  Bugs seem to like me more than other people. WHY!!!!  Because I am so sweet, the tiny vampires want to devour my flesh even before I’m dead.  It became apparent that life keeps going on and we travel through this world, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, and we are all in a process of letting go,  which is part of our existence.  
Vanitas paintings have gone out of style, I think because most people do not like to be reminded of our mortality.  As an artist I believe it is my obligation to ask you to look and understand that life is transient and never stops life-ing.  So nurture your spiritual life, pass through this life and try not to harm other beings, and honor this awesome world which we live in. 

Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity. Ecclesiastes 1:2
 Mirrors
- Skulls
- Bones
- Flickering Candles
- Soap Bubbles
- Smoke
- pipes
- Certain flowers
- Certain fruit
- Certain vegetables
- Some plants
- Red wine
- Bread
- Tattered Books
- Maps
- Jewelry
- Broken Pots and Crockery
- Shells
- Certain insects & animals
- Time pieces
- The Hour Glass
- Sun Dials
- Musical Instruments
- Weapons
- Cards, dice, and other games of chance
- & more