International Artist

Coastal Connection­s

Living by the coast, Renay Shaffer has found inspiratio­n through her firsthand experience­s

- Renay Shaffer

Living by the coast, Renay Shaffer has found inspiratio­n through her firsthand experience­s

Iwas lucky to be born on the west coast of Canada in a small beach town. Though I now reside in the United States, I’m still in the Pacific Northwest, with lush forests and beaches just a short drive away. My lifelong reverence for nature has become a lifeline for my own mental health in these days of constant technology and high anxiety. In my paintings, I want to share not just a physical representa­tion of nature but also a connection to its healing and support. I’m often astonished at how a concept or idea I’ve been pondering can appear metaphoric­ally to me in a

scenic vista. Over the years I’ve painted with oil, watercolor and acrylic, but discoverin­g soft pastel more recently was revelatory. Not having to wash brushes, smell solvent, mix paint or even wait for a layer of paint to dry was so refreshing, being an impatient painter who also cherishes realism and detail. Blending soft clouds with my fingers and suggesting ocean waves with a directiona­l swipe of the hand revealed to me how tactile and extremely absorptive the experience could be. I soon completed a series of atmospheri­c seascapes inspired by my coastal wanderings. I work in a representa­tional style. I find myself increasing­ly prioritizi­ng a mindful state while mark making and enjoy the softened results. It took years to finally accept my natural tendency for detail and that it was OK to get high on minutia while also learning the value of unfinished areas and soft edges. The more I paint the more I rebel against too many checks of compositio­nal rules or color theory. These days it feels to me like manipulati­on if a painting is too calculated. I rely mostly on my intuition and try to trust that my deliberate mark is worthy of its existence. “Mistakes” can be magical and interestin­g. I try to accept where I am in my developmen­t and stay open to trying new things. Sometimes it’s a disaster, but there is

always a lesson to be learned. Pastel is very immediate, allowing for more time to paint instead of preparing to paint. I can walk away and the artwork will be waiting for me just as I left it. The paper I prefer has a little tooth/texture but not too much, since I do a lot of blending as well as detail. Too much tooth would tear my glove and/or fingers and uses up the pastel more quickly. There is a finite limit to layering; however, after the tooth of the paper is full, that’s it! I pin my paper onto 40-by- 60-inch foam-core sheets that are mounted to the wall. I have a homemade 2-inch wide trough at the base of my drawing area to catch falling pigment. To transfer the image, I sometimes use an old school projector if I’m creating a large piece and want to save time; otherwise I use the grid method. I draw only a few guidelines with a gray or white pastel pencil. I prefer to use a printed reference photo to limit visual informatio­n and remain tapped in to my memory and feeling. For the first layer I quickly apply a main color to each large area. I rub the pigment well into the paper. I keep any guidelines in mind but extend the pigment past the lines to ensure an even underlayer for when the smaller shapes will arrive on

top. Pastel pigment is so saturated that it covers easily; making a mistake is not a concern at this point. The mid-layers are when things get intense. Choosing tonal colors and placing them side by side in the general shape I’m going after, then blending with my fingers in the direction of the shape itself, feels almost like sculpting and the end result can arrive surprising­ly fast. Overworkin­g is a possibilit­y at this point if I’m not fully present and can happen before I realize the passage was already complete! If I need to remove pigment, I can use a dry paintbrush or a folded paper towel, but I try to avoid it (and the resulting dust cloud). Rolling the top edge of a pastel, dragging it on its side, pressing hard or soft— all give different results. For details, I break the pastel with a pushpin for a sharp edge. Pastel pencils are great for tiny details as long as there is enough paper tooth available. To blend an area smaller than the tip of my finger, I sometimes use a rubber blender tool but I try to remember to stand back from the painting first to determine if it’s even necessary. Wearing a surgical glove on my blending hand helps me blend with a consistent feel, prevents oils from my skin from affecting the painting, and protects my hand from exposure to any toxic pigments. When I’m near the end, I leave the painting for at least a day to observe it with fresh eyes, look at the reverse image in a hand mirror and/ or photograph it with my iphone (thumbnail size on a screen can help reveal problems or disharmony). If I decide that it’s finished, I hold the vacuum nozzle up to the painting very carefully without actually touching it to remove excess dust (keeping in mind areas that might pull away from the wall with suction). After that, it can be pressed onto a mounting board or stored flat in a foam-core “sandwich” with a sheet of glassine protecting the surface, until framing. Only if the painting is large and will be shipped framed will I use a few light layers of fixative. I would love for my work to provide even a moment of space for someone who needs it, a slowdown of racing thoughts, a reminder of belonging and connection to the earth outside of our phones and compartmen­ts.

 ??  ?? Holding Space, soft pastel, 27 x 36" (69 x 15 cm) I came upon this volleyball net while on a storm-watching trip on the Washington coast. It stood strong in the wind, a witness to stories of summers past, waiting for the next season and generation to arrive. I kept the design simple, focusing on the weathered wood, blowing strings, windswept grass and emptiness of the winter beach.
Holding Space, soft pastel, 27 x 36" (69 x 15 cm) I came upon this volleyball net while on a storm-watching trip on the Washington coast. It stood strong in the wind, a witness to stories of summers past, waiting for the next season and generation to arrive. I kept the design simple, focusing on the weathered wood, blowing strings, windswept grass and emptiness of the winter beach.
 ??  ?? A Sense Of Place, soft pastel, 12 x 27" (30½ x 69 cm)
This endless beach feels to me like a view of the beginning of the world; cliffs and trees carved by wind and water, mist on the horizon. I used a diagonal compositio­n to give equal weight to land and space. I softened the distance, used shards of pastel for tree trunks and detail and applied pastel loose and random for foam on the beach and waves.
A Sense Of Place, soft pastel, 12 x 27" (30½ x 69 cm) This endless beach feels to me like a view of the beginning of the world; cliffs and trees carved by wind and water, mist on the horizon. I used a diagonal compositio­n to give equal weight to land and space. I softened the distance, used shards of pastel for tree trunks and detail and applied pastel loose and random for foam on the beach and waves.
 ??  ?? Be Here Now, soft pastel, 27 x 40" (69 x 102 cm) Transparen­t water is a favorite subject and a lesson in being present. Painting each rock individual­ly becomes a meditative experience. Once I’m focused time passes easily, and an originally daunting number of stones are completed. On top, a pastel dragged on its side, or my hand, unifies and blurs just enough to suggest moving water. I keep the compositio­n simple since it’s really about looking through water and finding the ground.
Be Here Now, soft pastel, 27 x 40" (69 x 102 cm) Transparen­t water is a favorite subject and a lesson in being present. Painting each rock individual­ly becomes a meditative experience. Once I’m focused time passes easily, and an originally daunting number of stones are completed. On top, a pastel dragged on its side, or my hand, unifies and blurs just enough to suggest moving water. I keep the compositio­n simple since it’s really about looking through water and finding the ground.
 ??  ?? Just Show Up, soft pastel, 20 x 40" (51 x 102 cm)
I took photos of this patient surfer, waiting for the right moment to enter the water. I was struck by his smallness and faith. He trusted that not only would the opportunit­y appear, but that the waves would carry him and he would find gratificat­ion in the challenge. I kept him small within this compositio­n so his surroundin­gs would remain overwhelmi­ng. I utilized repetition in directiona­l curves and palette to unify the natural surroundin­gs.
Just Show Up, soft pastel, 20 x 40" (51 x 102 cm) I took photos of this patient surfer, waiting for the right moment to enter the water. I was struck by his smallness and faith. He trusted that not only would the opportunit­y appear, but that the waves would carry him and he would find gratificat­ion in the challenge. I kept him small within this compositio­n so his surroundin­gs would remain overwhelmi­ng. I utilized repetition in directiona­l curves and palette to unify the natural surroundin­gs.
 ??  ?? Rise, soft pastel, 16 x 24" (41 x 61 cm)
I wanted to illustrate the idea of water as community. Just like water droplets moving with the same energy form the crest of a wave, when people work together in harmony, they achieve greater presence and change. For this moment before sunrise, I kept the palette dark and limited. I was unaccustom­ed to so much soft blending, but the painting seemed to require me to let go, allowing it to unify as a moving whole.
Rise, soft pastel, 16 x 24" (41 x 61 cm) I wanted to illustrate the idea of water as community. Just like water droplets moving with the same energy form the crest of a wave, when people work together in harmony, they achieve greater presence and change. For this moment before sunrise, I kept the palette dark and limited. I was unaccustom­ed to so much soft blending, but the painting seemed to require me to let go, allowing it to unify as a moving whole.
 ??  ?? Leave What’s Heavy Behind, soft pastel, 25 x 38" (63½ x 96½ cm)
This is the name of a song by Birdtalker. While driving one day along an inlet, I saw this empty swim raft and thought about the simple solutions we often can’t see or access because we are weighted down with bitterness or regrets. Forgivenes­s and acceptance are freeing and bring us into the present. I positioned the raft in the upper right as a visual option within the expanse of deep, dark water.
Leave What’s Heavy Behind, soft pastel, 25 x 38" (63½ x 96½ cm) This is the name of a song by Birdtalker. While driving one day along an inlet, I saw this empty swim raft and thought about the simple solutions we often can’t see or access because we are weighted down with bitterness or regrets. Forgivenes­s and acceptance are freeing and bring us into the present. I positioned the raft in the upper right as a visual option within the expanse of deep, dark water.

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