Official Website of Anita K. Boyle
Can You Hear Me?
19” by 23” • $850 (framed)
This is the first in a series of encaustic assemblages based on the fantastic beauty of crop circles. Maybe aliens from outer space made them, or maybe silent rural artists made them, it doesn't matter. But their beauty does, and so this series is an attempt to document that wonder, and to keep them in our conversations. This assemblage is based on a crop circle named "The Spider" that appeared near Barbury Castle, Wiltshire, England on July 7, 1994.
At first, I found an image (in a book) with the wrong title: “The Bee.” Lately, the bee is often reported as threatened; as dying off in amazing numbers; or being in some sort of danger. So I thought the bee a worthy subject. After this assemblage was finished, I discovered that the internet used "The Spider" as the title for the crop circle that inspired this artwork. Spiders are a different story altogether. They will likely live happily every after, with or without a crop circle tribute. But spiders have caught my interest much like the crop circles have. However, with spiders, it's the beauty of the patterns on their backs. Find a magnifying glass and you’ll soon see what I mean. When I'm finished with the series, there should be at least four, including a jellyfish, a bee, and an abstract geometrical design.
This assemblage uses ink, oil paint, toner, gold leaf, a strawberry leaf, wasp nest and parts from a broken telephone receiver. And I've written a poem to go with this assemblage.
When the Sea Turns Green
14” by 18” • Sold
Three-in-one! There are two smaller encaustic assemblages in this medium-size assemblage. "When the Sea Turns Green" contains some of the detritus from the Pacific Ocean along with other found objects. The broken sand dollar is affixed to paper made with conservation board under a small crumpled masa paper painting. Twine from the beach hangs from the shell. There are also washers, orthodontic wax, Stellar's Jay feather, more twine, sand, assorted washers, ink and handmade papers on plywood.
18” by 24” • $950 (framed)
The assemblage "Translation" attempts to use the visual textures of nature and technology in a layout that is legible, however incomprehensible. Together, the art is intended to find an order and to share similarities between these two disparate structures in a conversational tone. Penciled insects and schematic elements offer the human hand in the picture.
This assemblage combines smudged handmade paper, capacitors, wasp nest, screws, ladybugs, snail shells, blue wire, blue pencil, graphite, mushroom spore prints, dragonfly nymph carapaces, rubber washer, gaskets, a level, plastic spacer, pond scum, circuit board, and seeds. Some of the paper uses cattails or dandelion seeds; some uses pond algae or conservation board.
An Excavation of Language
20” by 18.5” • $875 (framed)
This medium-large assemblage is textured with acrylic modeling paste on a plywood base. Printing ink and acrylic paint were applied. Wasp nest papers and interiors were adhered with acrylic medium, as well as leaf skeletons and shiny bullet casings.
While I worked with this assemblage, I noticed how the corroded letterpress type was so similar in color to the wasp nests that they began to mimic each other. The curved movement and earthy colors place the imagery of the piece underground, as if language could be dug up and rediscovered. The artwork begins to tell its own story.
18” by 24” • Sold
A shell game, as you know, is a game played by a person who is probably going to show you an illusion, a game where you can never guess the real answer: the pea under the cup always disappears. This shell game is played with egg shells, snail shells, sunflower shells, bullet shells, and a snake skin. There is the clear pattern of black and white, and a monotype print that is like a diagram of the elusive play at hand. Of course, it's not a game at all. Is it?
Icarus, Past the Verge
12” by 15” • Sold
The story of Icarus ended rather badly. The birds must have sung for him on his way down. He must have heard their song. Not mocking him, but urging him up like they do their own young. However, his wonderful wings were breaking, melting apart, and he was already too close to the sun, too high for a safe landing, too knowledgeable about the thickness air has under wings, its mass, and the height he had gained.
This assemblage began with cobwebs laden with soot from an accidental fire. The webs were placed on thin plywood. There are two encaustic transfers of a sparrow I inked, a rusty feeler gauge I used when tuning up my '47 Chevrolet Fleetmaster 4-door sedan (named Otis), a broken pair of dirty plastic wings found years after my kids left them in the dirt, a broken corner of a ruined old mirror sewn to the substrate, dry and colored vegetation, and three bullet casings. There is also a piece of handmade paper adhered with encaustic, and cyan toner and ink.
Song of the Bone Crickets
11.5” by 11” • $625 ( hinged frame)
Elephant garlic flower pods were used in this assemblage. One sprouts a flower of moth wings and a small layer of wasp nest. The other has pollen rising from it. Printer's ink scrapings become the ground, and hand-drawn dots lead deeper into the earth. The breast bones of song birds sing like crickets beneath this gathering on the landscape, which is on handmade paper with dandelion seeds, adhered to a small board, which is fastened to inked plywood.
The plywood for this artwork is 11.5 by 11 inches, and is under glass. This assemblage is from a series of smaller assemblages, for which I made copper-foiled glass frames with brass hinges. The frame stays closed when the artwork is hung on the wall, but can be lifted to care for the artwork.
12” by 11” • $425 (framed)
One day, the studio's heater began to malfunction after being "fixed" by a service person. Soot grew very thick on the interior of the heater and pipes, probably a quarter inch. Rather disconcerting. Not one to waste interesting things, I rubbed papers on the interior glass to make frottage backgrounds to begin a small series of assemblages. I also added oil to a collection of soot to make paint that I applied to other assemblages.
This assemblage includes waxed capacitors, a puff ball mushroom, bits of handmade paper, a ring from an old plant hanger, a dragonfly carapace, feathers and assorted electrical parts and such. I also smudged part of the paper, and sifted the puff ball spore into a circle. Each circle is symbolic of a cycle, representing things that happen in one's life. A fire, a depression, the way things change for worse and back to better. We learn from these things.
10” by 6.5” • $425, framed
This assemblage plays with the idea of fashion, what it might be, and what it might not be... symbolically, and maybe a little sarcastically, through color, texture and meaning. There is pastel green and blue watercolor on linen paper, as well as thick black ink. A little oil paint. I've included a fancy belt buckle, which has been reversed and then reversed again using pollen. Gauze and tiny bird bones, a neat row of little color-coordinated capacitors— and a larger one in matching deadpan brown. Wasp nest paper encloses one corner. String and a white plastic button appear. Let's suggest this is an idea of beauty and style. It hangs on the wall of the studio in an ornate gilt frame.
41” by 27” • Sold
This poem is written by the trees on three sheets of handmade paper containing catkins and pollen. Each sheet is a stanza titled by a leaf, an eyedropper filled with pollen, and a group of small female cones. Pollen spreads like the Milky Way on the black background. If you're able to translate the trees' language, you'll find this is a beautiful and encouraging poem.
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