One of the many things that I have learned about paint in resin is that it looks very different depending on the background.  One absolutely MUST experiment with colored resin on various backgrounds.  

  I generally paint my panels and canvas with white gesso.  But sometimes I go with black.  The black does a very different thing than the white does.  So one must experiment.  Try a dab of the resin with paint mixed in it on hardboard and see what color is revealed.

  For example, transparent iron oxide looks orange not red when on a black gesso background.  See, Looking Down #1 and #2.

  So, give experimenting a shot before pouring a full piece.  You will be glad that you did.

  Details, details.  They say that God is in the details and I'm betting that is true.  It certainly is true for art; or at least, for creating art with resin as I do.   Inquiring minds want to know  - how do go about I creating with resin?  Folks keep asking me that question and others.   I keep repeating the same answers so I thought I'd write a bit about the lessons I've learned and the tips and techniques that seem to work best for me.

  You need to get prepared to work with resin because it is messy.  Icky.  Sticky.  Icky sticky.  So let's chat about preparing to Art.  (Parenthetically, I do love "art" as a verb.  To art or not to art; that is the question: whether tis nobler ....  Never mind.  You get it.)

1.  Wear gloves.  You have GOT to wear gloves.  (see picture)  Resin is the consistency (generally anyway) of molasses or maple sugar.  It is, to say the least, a bit thick.  Or maybe I'm laying it on a bit thick.  Whatever.  So wear latex or nitrile gloves.  I go through several pairs of gloves with every pour.  Go Costco!  They carry the least expensive gloves that I can find.  And gloves are the one thing that I truly love buying in ginormous quanitity.  (Salsa, not so much.)  If you get resin on your skin, don't worry.  At least, don't worry too much.  Wash the resin off.  Soap and a sponge with that rough sandpapery stuff on one side works pretty well.  You probably didn't need that top layer of epidermis anyway.  

2.  Wear a carbon filter mask.  Yes, this is not my idea of beauty either.  You'll notice that there is no picture of me in a carbon filter mask for I look as if I had just arrived from Planet of the Fly.  Think Jeff Goldblum.  The carbon filter mask is a double whammy of unattractiveness and uncomfortableness.  Oh well.  Such is the price of keeping your few remaining brain cells.   Resin just has to be toxic to breathe.  Maybe it would not be too horribly bad the first time or the second time you breathed it but on a long term basis, this stuff cannot be good for you.  I don't care what the manufacturer says about toxicity.  (Nothing, usually) However, nothing that smells this bad can be ok to breathe.  I do know people who say that they are "lazy" about wearing a carbon filter mask.  Don't be.  Period. Wear a mask.  Be smart.  Or maybe just remain smart.  

3.  Ventilate the room.  Open a window, at a minimum.  I'm in the process of having a restaurant grade exhaust fan installed.  Think through your particular circumstances and ventilate.

4.   Invest in plastic sheeting.  You can buy 3 or 4 ml plastic sheeting at any Ace or Home Depot type store.  Buy in quanitity 'cause you're gonna need it.  You will need it for your work table, your mixing table and your floor, as well as anything else that you do not want resin permanently adhered to.

5.  Buy a blow torch.   I can't say that I have ever recommended that anyone buy a blow torch before but you will need something to heat the surface in order to get rid of the bubbles that arise as a result of mixing the resin with hardener.  I use a creme brule blow torch, which you can buy at Bed, Bath and Beyond.  Some folks say that a hair dryer works.  That has not been my experience.  I prefer my mini-blow torch.  Ya just gotta love a good tool.  [Men, at last I get it.  A tool is cool.]  I blow torch the surface immediately after the pour and then again 15 minutes after the piece is done.  That usually (and I emphasize "usually" as in "not always") destroys the bubbles.  

  Ok, you are now ready to rock and roll.    On to lesson #2.

  Seth Godin, in his Seth's Blog, just wrote a piece about "Those People".  The blog talked about a teacher (or maybe alleged teacher) who wrote off kids whom she believed couldn't be leaders and couldn't do art.  Here's the link:  http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2013/02/those-people.html?utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter

  This blog really resonated with me for I think I'm one of those people.  Until middle school, I went to a two room country school with multiple grades per room.  We didn't have art classes, no doubt in large part because the teachers were busy trying to teach the basics to multiple grades of kids.  By the time I went to city schools, I was way, way behind from an art perspective.  My parents, being farmers, had had no art training and thus did not encourage us to create art.  Thus, I grew up believing that I sucked at art.  

  Fortunately, in my 40's I became friends with an artist who had taught art.  She believed that everyone could do art and that finding my artistic side was only a question of experimenting with various mediums until we found one that resonated with me.  My friend was in charge of the multi-generational art project for a national conference so each year she would come up with an idea for her conference art project and I would help her assemble the necessary items and create examples of what the conference attendees could do.  This annual event created the opportunity for me to experiment and to try to create without pressure.  We did things like create paper bowls and decorate them with paint, beads and feathers.  

  Eventually, I drove over to her house one day when she was creating paper collages.  She asked me to join her.  I was having a bad mid-divorce day so I refused, saying, "You know I suck at art."  She insisted.  So I sat down, pulled out a background paper and began.  Immediately I was lost in the Zone.  The Zone is that creative space where time and circumstances go away and you simply create.  When I next looked up, 3 hours had passed.    Because my friend was an artist, she had mats and frames on hand so we matted and framed this piece.  By the end of the afternoon, I had a lovely piece of art that was done, finished and ready to be hung.

  I was hooked.  

  I wasn't one of "those people" any more.   My friend had persisted until she had found my creative spark via a medium I would never have thought of on my own.  

  Since that day, I realized that so often we drum the creative spirit out of children and out of adults.  When folks come into my booth at art fairs and tell me that they are not creative, I always disagree.  I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they are creative.  They simply have not found their medium nor have they been encourage to try different mediums until one resonates with them.

  The bottom line is that we are all artistic.  We are all creative.  None of us are "those people."  We need teachers, mentors and friends who care enough about us to not categorize us, to not put us in the "those people" category.   I'm with Seth Godin in his sadness and disappointment with this (alleged) teacher.  

  Don't let anyone put you in the "those people" box.