Reviewing Pinspiration: Stenciled Newspaper Canvas
Hey you guys! What’s up? I have been craving some artsy-craftsy fun lately, and it occurred to me that I actually do have one project to share with you. Early in April, my friend Erica drove out to the farm for some creative camaraderie We scoured our Pinterest boards, surveyed what art supplies were readily available in the upstairs Apartment, and got to work. Play. Whatever. Here is what we did!
Erica was preparing gifts for a couple if special women in her life. I wanted to pump up the volume in the artwork for my downstairs blue bathroom. We settled on canvases. I already had one ginormous canvas, and by ginormous I mean this beast is about four feet wide and three feet tall, painted in several broad, bold colorful stripes. Some time ago I had started hand painting random song lyrics to it and was ready to do more. For Erica’s project we found inspiration on Pinterest. And we learned a few valuable lessons worth sharing.
My project is so random it barely warrants discussion, but I have enjoyed cramming song lyrics into the colorful bands. It hangs where you cannot miss it, so I always leave the powder room singing one fun thing or another. How many do you recognize? Are you singing anything yet? Bonus points to you if you know any of the artists.
Erica’s project is what I want to talk about. The idea is more than stenciling letters on canvas. The idea is first covering the canvas with newspaper then stenciling letters on and painting a solid color. All in an upstairs Apartment that is very likely haunted.
It was slightly less easy than we expected.
1. Okay. First, I suggest you dive right in by adhering newspaper smoothly and fastidiously to the canvas. Do this before you even spend time deciding on your words or paint colors. Getting the newspaper flat and dry will take a bit of time, and you can think about the other fun stuff while your first stage dries. We used mod-podge; I am pretty sure plain white glue would also work.
This stage is important, because if it bubbles up too much then you are destined to cry and use swear words and kick empty boxes across the room when your letters have weird edges later. A blistered newspaper base makes the letters extra weird later. One more tip here: Do take care to not display sad things on your canvas, just in case the paint later seems transparent. Example? Erica and I accidentally drew sheets from a section of obituaries. Sad. Terrible mojo for a birthday gift for her sweet sister. Erica caught it in plenty of time, by the way, just a head’s up for you.
Okay.
2. Once you are satisfied that your layer of torn and cleverly oriented newspaper is dry, it’s time to lay down your message. We used a set of reusable vinyl letter stencils I’ve had for a while. They are plain block shapes and not expensive. But I want to say that while they are technically reusable, they do gradually lose a bit of stick over time This is another good reason to make sure you papered canvas is really truly bone dry before you lay down stickers; they are more likely to stick to a flat, dry surface than a damp, bumpy one. In fact, as it dries, you might scrape a flat edge against the paper layer. I think it would help.
Erica and I discovered that the longer the quote, the higher the chance you’ll have to reuse some letters. We know this because we are smart like scientists. It made for a funny rotation of arms and hands, a comical sticker-paint-sticker-again process. Not a big problem, but something to consider if you’re going to the craft store anyway and can afford to buy two sets of letters.
Okay.
So your canvas has been papered with cool looking black and white newspaper and it is dry like a desert and flat like farmland.
You have placed your vinyl letters in such a smart and witty way that you almost want to leave it just like that. You love your quote You love it so much. Time to paint.
3. Now just choose a gorgeous solid color and paint it. But don’t go all crazy on it! Paint it evenly, gingerly, with extra attention paid to the edges and corners of those fussy little vinyl letter stickers. They have a maddening way of peeling up invisibly and allowing paint to seep into exactly where it does not belong. It may not seem like a big deal at first; but as your finished product is unveiled you will chagrin so many blurry edges that cannot be fixed.
So paint. Paint slowly. Use a straight-edged foam brush if you have one. Paint with Zen and peace in your heart. Paint while breathing in through your nose and out through your gently pursed lips. Engage your core and focus. Breathe. Paint. Breathe some more.
Depending on the color you choose and your personal taste, you might want to allow time for a second coat. The canvas we painted with turquoise turned out really rich with just one coat because that paint had a base included and is meant for furniture. This red is simply red craft paint, I guess acrylic. It showed a bit more newspaper through its veil of color, which you may or may not groove. Your call.
Taking your time with each step of your project will pay off.
4. What should happen is that once every speck of your solid paint color is about 97% dry, you then gently peel away every letter sticker. What remains visible is the newspaper, with crisp colorful edges. Perhaps you can see here that we had so many blurry edges we decided to give them some muscle by hand-tracing the letters with a black Sharpie. Not Erica’s first choice, not exactly her artistic vision, but she’s a trooper.
Sometimes with new projects, as with life, you just have to find ways to make it work. And as far as I know the gifts were delivered with love and joy! That counts for much more than perfect edges.
For us, from top to bottom, I bet we spent a couple of hours doing two such canvases plus my lyrics board. But that was rushed, and I know for sure each step could have dried longer before we moved on. So I really suggest allowing yourself lots of time for one canvas. Maybe even complete one stage each day until it’s done. Be relaxed about this and enjoy the process. It’s not difficult; it’s just fussy.
Our evening may or may not have ended with Erica seeing one of our farm ghosts. She kinda left in a hurry, quite pale even with her gorgeous Creole complexion, and rumor has it she prayed the whole way home.
Have you tried a project like this? Do you have tips or maybe a photo to share? Please feel free to comment away and post it to this blog’s Facebook page.
Go forth and create!
“Every child is an artist.
The problem is how to remain an artist
once we grow up.”
~Pablo Picasso
xoxoxoxo
The Herb Garden of Discontent
It happens to me almost every time I dig and plant a new garden. Surely I’m not the only one, right? The temporary anticlimax.
You get inspired for a very particular new garden. You find its location, define its purpose, and prepare the soil. Perhaps, as has been the case with this new herb bed here at the farm, you do most of that in the off season; so for months you also stare longingly at the blank site, daydreaming of its eventual fullness and productivity. Piling on dried manures and whispering words of affirmation to the infant garden, you begin to see it in its most mature state, its maximum and most perfect condition. All far in advance, every time you pass by. Where there is only dirt in reality, your hopeful eyes perceive bushels of glossy basil, armfuls of zinnias, several mountains of rosemary, and sprays of every colorful herb you’ll ever need to make your own sleepy time tea. Your nose inhales, also in advance, every sweet and savory fragrance known to man since before time.
You plan to sell your wares at the area farmer’s market because, obviously, you will be growing far more than you need. Because it’s already the most lovely and magical garden ever in all the world.
You may scribble down blueprints and sketch curvy borders and make lists on your i-Phone of what to buy the very minute it’s safe to plant. You find yourself helpless with seed catalogs, whether they belong to you or not, highlighting, circling, and boldly asterisk-ing key items every chance you get. As if the writing of a wish is also its coming to fruition. Because you did read The Secret, after all.
On the weekend you can finally plant, you eagerly run through one last soil clearing, savoring the crunch of your spade as it slices through stubborn volunteer crabgrass. You shake weedy roots free of dirt and celebrate every fat earthworm that wriggles through the black gold left there.
So much potential. You just can’t stop singing the praises of slow food, organic methods, and the glory of working outdoors. Your legs are so strong and motivated you think you can dig a hundred gardens.
Then the day arrives.
The soil is cleaned and warm. The plants have been purchased. The weather is ideal. Your new garden plan is about to come together. Like you’re the horticulture A-Team or something. (And who am I to say you’re not?)
You dig, scrape, level, arrange, plant, rearrange, water, scrape again, and survey your little outdoor art project over and over.
Your geese come to inspect your progress and play in the sprinkler. Your cat rolls in the fresh dirt. You lower back gets a skinny, crescent shaped sunburn from that weird leaned-over gardener’s stance you’ve held for two days straight. And when you finally stand up to stretch and see it for the first time with new eyes… To dust off and drink in the beauty of what your imagination, knowledge, and physical labor have joined forces to create…
Everything looks tiny.
Almost so tiny it kind of irritates you.
The chamomile plant has withered a bit too much.
Some unnamed farm citizen, but clearly someone who has feathers and a beak and only two legs, has nibbled all but a third of the chocolate-mint leaves. Did you plant those rosemary starts too close together? Wait, where is the basil? I forgot basil? Should I have staggered those annuals, or is color blocking indeed the way to go? Can I even see all of this from the kitchen sink?
Is it just the glaring angle of the late afternoon sun? Because something about this looks out of scale. You are pretty sure those plants were all at least three times as big in the dining room yesterday. This is definitely not right.
You begin to question yourself in every possible way. Why do you even bother gardening? Just buy your food like a normal person and go watch t.v.
You hope your Momma or Grandpa don’t drop in for a farm visit, because this would be embarrassing. You certainly don’t put any of this on Instagram. Nope, that would not inspire a single person to try her own gardening adventure. It would be like trying to lure people to Christianity with meanness and judgement. Not cool.
Then Tiny T walks over and has a talk with you.
He wraps his tiny, muscled arm around your slumped shoulders and says exactly what you need to hear.
“Yo. This is just day one, man. Your garden plans are good, this soil is golden like my chains, and our summer is going to be amazing. Just give it some time and chill, baby. I pity the fool who thinks gardening is a sprint and not a marathon.”
“Thanks, Tiny T. Seriously, you always know just what to say.”
Then all is right with the world and you go off to make more coffee and design the next new garden.
The end.
Introducing Tiny Mr. T
Well hello again.
One T is several inches tall and wears a small replica race bib with my runner number on it. He sits on my desk in the Apartment and guards my messes there. The smaller one, hereafter known as Tiny T, is Polly Pocket size and has been joining me on all kinds of adventures, farm related and otherwise, ever since that Sunday.
Tiny T supports the slow food movement for sure.
So now you have met Tiny T, and I am wondering if you love him as much as I do.
For many passionate reasons I just can’t get enough Mr. T. And no, it’s not embarrassing at all. Frankly I don’t understand why more people DON’T love him.
- Mr. T. wears as many dang necklaces as he wants. Sorta like me, but even more.
- He has the coolest hairstyle and beard, way cool, not that I would dare copy such coolness. James Harden has it goin’ on, but he was not the first.
- Mr. T used to carry around the biggest, bulkiest boombox just to strut through life bathed in the aura of good music. Who else is that cool? Nobody. Now we all settle for earbuds. At least some of us do still strut through life.
- Mr. T always seems to wearing a great threadbare denim jacket. Surely I don’t have to explain this.
- Mr. T is strong and capable and fearsome; but he admits his weakness, which is a debilitating fear of flying (at least in the role of B.A. in The A Team). I admire anyone who doesn’t try to conceal his flaws.
- Finally? He never tolerates sleeves. The original t-shirt surgeon.
Spring Garden Update
Spring is really, truly here you guys. It is here to stay, at least for a while. We may only have a couple of weeks before Oklahoma Summer 2013 descends on us in all of her hot and humid glory, so I have a lot of green and dirty living to do. Lots to prepare and enjoy before facing that particular seasonal brutality.
The gardens are filling in their own blanks quite nicely. They require thinning and grooming every day, especially in the radish and carrot beds, but no watering! Our rainfall in Oklahoma has been mercifully consistent.
The potatoes are finally multiplying. The spinach, rainbow chard, and myriad lettuces are drop dead gorgeous. And even more delicious than the are pretty. The sweet pea and English pea vines are as tall and fluffy as anything you’ve ever seen in your life. Honestly? This year the actual leaves on the pea vine are ginormous! Like, Jurassic big. Way too big really. I am afraid of how big the peas will be. Bowling ball size? Probably.
Back Seeded Simpson and Romaine lettuce sprouts, photo taken a couple of weeks ago. Imagine they are a million times fuller now. Because they are. |
Last night I discovered my first butter colored cauliflower you guys! She is pale yellow, dense, and perfect. Tucked primly inside the massive green plant she calls home, dreaming calmly of low-carb recipes. Her neighbor, the brussel sprout, is putting on evidence of edibility too. Broccoli, two kinds of cabbage, blackberries, tomatoes, peppers, squash, eggplant, you name it. So far, except for corn and basil, we have a little bit of everything growing somewhere around here. Even chocolate mint which smells like angels in heaven are making York peppermint patties for breakfast while watching Casablanca.
This broccoli bolted on a hot day. But if you pinch off the center blooms and keep yellow leaves cleaned off, the plant will set food peripherally and the results are DELISH. |
Colorful green and red (purple) cabbages are tightening up finally, and the spinach fills in beautifully. |
Another sign of spring, Chink-hi the buffalo has begun his annual shed extravaganza So cute. I need to snap some photos for you, because the way his body releases its winter coat, the patterns in which he gradually achieves his warm weather version of nudity, is so hilarious. Right now his skinny little rump and the wide spaces around his giant liquid eyes are the only bare spots. And they reveal how crazy thick his coat has been all these months! Like an inch of matted, woolly fur all over his strong body. No joke.
I have had our house windows open for days. Very little wind here except during the nighttime thunderstorms, just cool crisp breezes. And temperatures are looking better and better every day. This is a rare kind of meteorological bliss for us here in Indian Territory.
I am done substitute teaching for the school year.
The laundry is caught up.
The kitchen is stocked.
And I have that “the world is my oyster” kinda feeling. Can you guess that today and for as many days after as I can manage it, Handsome will find me half-buried in the gardens? Dirt manicures, rolled up jeans, and careless ponytails. These are the days. These are the weeks.
Thornless blackberry vines crawling up our forest-pole arbor. They have set dozens, maybe hundreds of buds already. |
This is the life.
What’s growing in your garden? Please connect with this blog on Facebook and share photos! So fun to see what people love in different parts of this beautiful world. Happy Spring-slash-Summer you guys.
“Won’t you come into my garden?
I want my roses to see you.”
~Richard Sheridan
18th century Irish playwright & poet
xoxoxoxo
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