An Artist's View

The following post was prepared at the request of the JordanCon Blog before this year's Art Show. It will be shared at some point to the JordanCon family via the blog, but I thought maybe it should be shared more generally as well, particularly after several recent discussions on art, folk art, and inspirations.

Art and music, color and sound, have been a huge part in my life since childhood. I have a bit of synesthesia, where one sense triggers a response in another. For me, colors and patterns trigger music and vice versa. A print of Van Gogh's Starry Night hung in my childhood bedroom, and I used to stare at it, transfixed by the sounds that the colors and brush strokes created in my head. It wasn't until years later, singing in a choir, that I realized, to me, Starry Night looks the way Mozart's Ave Verum sounds. Patterns and repetition, colors and sound all work through me when I create. I have found inspiration in the patterns around me, both in nature and in human creations. For as long as I can remember, I've had a physical need to find a way to express the designs that filter through my brain, and have done so using a multitude of mediums over the years.

The means of creative expression I may be most known for comes from the folk art of pysanky, the intricately decorated eggs often displayed at Easter-time. Pysanky (a word derived from the Ukrainian word “to write”) are created using a wax-and-dye resist process similar to batik, though on eggshell instead of cloth. Though my family comes from Ukraine, writing pysanky was not part of my cultural heritage, although it was for my husband Alan's family. I had long loved the patterns and intricacy of the designs but figured I was incapable of creating such beauty. With encouragement from a Master pysanky artist, I picked up the kistka (the tool used to apply the wax) in my 40's, and have yet to stop. Writing pysanky is a form of meditation for me, the meanings behind the symbols and the music in my head becoming a sort of prayer as I work on each egg. Writing pysanky was a way for me to relieve stress after working long days with disabled children and their families as a clinical nurse specialist. And when I became ill myself, it was a huge part of my healing and acceptance of the changes one takes on with chronic illness. I only began to feel comfortable with the title “artist” after I had several of my pysanky accepted into the collection of the Kolomyia Museum in Ukraine. To this day, I am more likely to describe myself as a folk-artist.

Taking the pysanky art from eggshell to paper and ultimately to interactive art such as Patterns of the Wheel, a coloring book based on The Wheel of Time (Tor, 2016), is entirely due to the JordanCon family. Without the encouragement, enthusiasm, and a bit of nagging, I'd still be only working with eggshells. My art, in all its forms, reflects the wabi-sabi concept of Japanese art (before I became a nurse, I received a degree in history, anthropology, and Asian studies, and embraced some of the cultural ideas I encountered, particularly from the Far East). These ideas reinforce the folk vs formal aspect of my art. I also incorporate aspects from some of my favorite artists: the Impressionists, whose paintings color my memories from childhood visits to museums; Utagawa Hiroshige's marvelous prints and drawings; Warli, Kalamkari, Mehndi, miniatures, and even the painted trucks of India; indigenous creations from all over the world; street art, local works, and artistic friends. Lately, the art of Nigerian-born Victor Ekpuk, both for his designs, and for his exploration of nsibidi (a traditional pictorial writing of his homeland) has been calling me.  The similarities between two arts using pictorial language and a transient format (chalk/eggshell) is a thrilling find, as are his artistic talents.

Wheel of Time-inspired art ranges from elegant, elaborate fantasy creations to simple stick figures. Individual taste and perspective guide the way artists approach their craft and the way in which viewers assess the result. One can glory in the art of Michelangelo, whose realistic depictions of the human form captured every nuance precisely, yet also delight in Marc Chagall, whose folk-art style featured casually drawn people and cows seen floating in colorful skies. One artist was a genius whose technical skills were flawless; the other recreated the art of commoners for a totally different purpose and effect. Luckily for me, there is room among the extremely talented Official Wheel of Time artists for a folk artist to explore the world Robert Jordan created. One of my most treasured memories is talking about pysanky with Jim Rigney, and his fascination with the symbols and language of pysanky. His interest in both the history and the art-form, and Harriet's encouragement, is what led to my becoming one of the licensed Wheel of Time artists. I am still astonished and grateful that my folk-art is in the company of such amazing art and artists.

Pysanky and Pysanky-inspired designs artist Amy Romanczuk, with a guitar she hand-decorated.

Looking for czukart.com?

My online shop is closed. I am still creating pysanky, Wheel of Time™ art, & line art. Please contact me via comments on this page. I welcome your interest. Please contact me by leaving a message to this post.

If you are looking for Patterns of the Wheel: Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time, please check your favorite local or online bookseller.


Some wearable art, featuring a few of my designs can be found through Artisan Tees.
Thank you!

For those unfamiliar with my art, I am primarily a folk artist, specializing in pysanky (decorative egg art) and pysanky-inspired design on more familiar surfaces, such as paper, wood, and canvas. Some of my art is  based on Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time™ series, for which I am a licensed artist.  Scroll down to see some pictures. 

Pysanky

Writing pysanky is the traditional folk art of decorating eggs. It has been handed down through generations for millennia. The word pysanky stems from the Ukrainian word “to write". Pysanky are considered to be written thoughts using a combination of wax resist and dye to convey symbols and colors, rather than painted. Each pysanka carries a one of a kind message of hope and good wishes. Though often now associated with Easter, pysanky are for all of life's events, made for special occasions, or to transmit special wishes or prayers. The symbols and colors all contain meaning, representing life: wishes of hope, health, prosperity, safety, and blessings. Legend has it that as long as pysanky are written, goodness will prevail over evil throughout the world. 

For some older pictures of my pysanky, click here.

Some of the 2017/2018 crop of pysanky are below. Please contact me directly if interested in any.

My Wheel of Time coloring book, Patterns of the Wheel, was published by Tor Books in 2016.

As of May 2019, I am no longer producing officially licensed Wheel of Time art, It has been an honor and privilege to be one of the artists sanctioned by Bandersnatch to create art based on a well loved series, written by a well loved man. I am probably the only folk artist to have ever been officially licensed to create art for a fantasy series.

The White Tower Collection

Some bone art I've done using pysanky-inspired symbols. These skulls were from the personal collection of Robert Jordan.

I have a fair amount of 2D art, as well, which is available, both originals and prints. I will be updating this section shortly.

Eye See Who (prints only)

Snow Critters notecards

Pysindy Peacock

String of Owls (prints only)

Coloring Notecards

About Pysanky, the Hand-Drawn Style of The Wheel of Time: Patterns of the Wheel (reposted from Tor.com but still by yours truly)

The world created by Robert Jordan for The Wheel of Time offers readers a vibrant mix of elements to ignite the imagination. Readers enact their understanding of the books through cosplay, music, art, or even through food and drink. Line up any ten fans dressed as the Dragon Reborn, and while there may be some similarities, no two are the same.

Wheel of Time-inspired art ranges from elegant, elaborate fantasy creations to simple stick figures. Individual taste and perspective guides the way artists approach their craft and the way in which viewers assess the result. One can glory in the art of Michelangelo, whose realistic depictions of the human form captured every nuance precisely, yet also delight in Marc Chagall, whose folk-art style featured casually drawn people and cows seen floating in colorful skies. One artist a genius whose technical skills were flawless; the other recreating the art of the people for a totally different purpose and effect.

My own style comes from the folk art of Pysanky, the intricately decorated eggs often displayed at Easter-time. Pysanky (a word derived from the Ukrainian word “to write”) are created using a wax-and-dye resist process similar to batik, though on eggshell instead of cloth.

Pysanky also convey language, both in the symbols used and the colors of dye incorporated in their design. And while precision is used to create designs, the eggs are also handwritten. As with any type of handwriting, character and distinctiveness is conveyed by the imperfections inherent in this means of communication: loops are not always closed, and sometimes a “t “ isn’t crossed or an “i” dotted.

Most coloring books on the market today are computer-generated or aided, and by their very nature they are flawless. By contrast, my Wheel of Time coloring art book Patterns of the Wheel uses a more spontaneous style to convey the moods and meanings of images from the Wheel of Time. This book includes a key to help decipher meanings of some of the symbols used in the designs. Additionally, hidden in many of the images are words written in Old Tongue script, which those interested can decode from resources online or from The Wheel of Time Companion.

To give a brief example of how a design can be decoded, take a look below at “Patterns of the Wheel”, a page from the coloring book. When creating my version of the snake and wheel, I wanted to incorporate symbols relevant to the story. Prominent throughout the design is a symbol called “wolves’ teeth”, depicting friendship, loyalty, and wisdom. The lower wheel consists of two sets of wolves’ teeth, seven in each set, echoing off the seven spokes of the wheel, the seven pine needles (for strength and stamina, as well as health), and calling to mind the seven Ajahs. Likewise, each of the upper circles have also been divided into seven major segments. There are triangles (which are said to enclose wishes) but which also represent a trinity, in this case, the three ta’veren; crosses for crossroads of life and four corners of the world; curls for protection; waves for safety in travels; netting for keeping close or gathering in of forces; ladders/parallel lines for the ascension of hopes; and even a bit of foliage to help fight the Blight. And that’s just for starters.

Download a print version of this drawing here if you would like copies for you and your family! (PDF is 1.2 MB.)

I’ve drawn the basics on each page to help you create a colorful design. Add your colors, your imagination, and your own elements as you wish. There’s no right or wrong way. You don’t even have to stay within the lines; just find your pattern and enjoy.

Reposted from www.tor.com, with permission.

Additional note:  You'll discover if you click through on the picture of the coloring book cover that Robert Jordan is listed as the primary author, which is entirely right. There are words in this version of the book. They are his, not mine. I am delighted and honored to share the space on the front of a book with him, though, even if the artist bio reflect his life, not mine. For anyone in doubt, I am still alive and kicking. 

The art of pysanky intrigued Robert Jordan. I remember being fascinated watching that facile mind unravel the messages on the eggs I'd done for him and for Harriet. Being able to explore his world through an art form he liked has been a gift.

Roofus Rastus Johnson Brown

Once upon a time there was a girl from Brooklyn. Her parents, Ada and Avram,  had come to America from the old country, found each other, and settled into a life together on New York's East Side, selling eggs from a wooden cart. Shortly after she was born, Ada and Avram  moved their young family from the city to the fresh air of Brooklyn, settling in a brownstone near the  Brighton Beach boardwalk. Though Ada and Avram had travelled many miles from the countryside near Lviv, the girl from Brooklyn didn't travel much. Her entire family, for the most part, lived within blocks of the her home. She travelled through the books she read, and dreamed someday of a great adventure.

The family grew, adding a couple of brothers (one having been her father's oldest son, whose mother had died in the old country during the Spanish Influenza epidemic, and was finally able to immigrate to live with his father and new mother), and a sister. The girl from Brooklyn blossomed. She had a joyful nature, an inquisitive quick mind, and the ability to give wholehearted attention in a conversation. She also was extremely teasable, and even in adulthood would sputter in protest when her younger brother sang "Rufus Rastas Johnson Brown, whatcha gonna do when the rent comes round" and called her Rufus, instead of her given name of Ruthe.

The girl from Brooklyn loved and was loved. In her twenty-first year, she wed. She still dreamed of travel, but she and her Eli were young, limited in funds, and it was wartime. Eventually, though, they were able to begin to take road trips to explore this beautiful country, as well as travel to move their own clan to new locations as Eli's studies and work required.

Looking back now, her journeys can be traced through the souvenirs she collected. Her charm bracelet gathered tokens from New York, Massachusetts, and other eastern seaboard states. Eventually, she added Wyoming to the chain. The bracelet also documents the three children Ruthe and Eli brought into this world, two boys and a girl (I am that girl, now grown, myself.)

At some point, the charm bracelet got full, but our Ruthe still wanted to get a token to commemorate  her travels. As a young girl, she'd been given a spoon from Rockaway Beach, which she treasured. She began to add small spoons as souvenirs for each state she visited. Soon she had spoons from coast to coast.













When the girl from Brooklyn, who had gone on to live in Washington DC, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Missouri, and South Carolina, left this life in 2009, she left behind many who loved her. She also left behind her spoon collection. Occasionally, I'd take the spoons from the box where they rested and remember our times and travels together. The collection was one of the things I kept when we downsized from the family home to our current abode. But what do you do with a collection of state spoons besides dust them?

It's no secret that I have a love of art, particularly the vibrant artists that we have come to know here in Charleston. Last year, we first saw the wonderful works of an incredibly talented and imaginative metal artist here in Charleston. Since then, we've had the good fortune to become friends with him, and marvel at the works, large and small that he creates. But when I saw Matt Wilson's (aka Airtight Artwork) silverware metal sculptures, I knew what had to happen with my mother's spoon collection.

So far, only one little guy has been created -- the smallest bird Matt has yet done. Its tail feathers are the spoons of South Carolina and Colorado, which makes me smile for many reasons. And even more thrilling for me was that I had the opportunity to add my own touch into this little bird, and will be collaborating with Matt on some future projects. This one, however, stays here with me. I've named him Rufus, in honor of that old song that my uncle used to sing to torment his big sister.

I get by with a little help from my friends

I've hurt my arm. The details are unimportant, and yes, it's healing. What is significant (for me, at least) is that it is my right arm, the lead hand in all my artwork. Typing can be done one-handed. No one takes off points for wiggly lines. Autocorrect can actually be helpful in fixing some errors (though it has made some extremely humorous changes a few time, of the sort that could get me on one of those "21 most hilarious autocorrect" lists had I not caught them.) But the kind of artwork I do, on egg or on a flat surface, takes a fairly steady hand. 

Even though the injured area is recovering, I realize there may be a day when recovery only goes so far. For most of my adult life, predating my pysanky writing, I've had compression of the ulnar and medial nerves on the right. Surgery wasn't recommended until I was out of my childbearing years, as the condition can reoccur with the changes of pregnancy. But, by the time I was "in the clear", I'd developed a pulmonary condition and was advised to not have elective surgeries, if at all possible. So I puddle along, hand pain rolling in and fading out. I have exercises I do daily, braces, therapies for exacerbations-- a full regime to call upon. The nerve trauma was flaring up when the injury happened, so this is a double whammy.

I've been thinking that should the time come when I can no longer hold a kistka in my right hand, I should start training the left. In other words, I want to become an ambidextrous pysanky writer. It's ambitious, I know, and there are many folks who can't master the art even with their dominant hand fully functional. But I want to try.

Yesterday, I started my first egg with my left hand. Got a few lines done, then pretty much wept, because I was so far from where I am on the right. I'm like a soprano with too much vibrato. But, I decided to post the picture to a pysanky group I am in. These folks are wonderful. Some, I've known for almost 20 years, and we've migrated to this group. Some I know only a few short months. A couple, I interacted with for the first time yesterday.  Since my post (above), encouragement, sympathy, suggestions, and humor have poured in. 

And that's not all. Some of these marvelous souls are taking up their kistkas, too, in their  non-dominant hand, to try and write a pysanka-- joining me on this weird one-hand-behind-my-back journey. I read that and teared up. I seemed to have gotten a little bit of fellowship in my eye.

Years ago, at a BookCrossing Convention here in Charleston, a friend I only knew from the internet, who'd just flown in from London, looked around the room at all the names she knew from our online group and said, "All my imaginary friends are real!" All mine seem to be real, and those who aren't sharing books with me, seem to be cheering me on as I learn to write again. Friends do indeed take you places you never thought you'd have the courage to go, and if you're very lucky, they travel the journey with you. Thank you incredible eggers of Incredible Eggs and of Instagram.

Dreaming is for the birds

So, I had a dream the other night, about art. About pysanky specifically. Note: javaczuk often marvels at my brain's persistent way of coming up with vivid ideas for artistic creations, both when awake or asleep. Sometimes they're so forceful, the ideas, colors, patterns wake me up, because my brain races so hard that sleep is impossible. I try to keep a little notepad by my bedside to jot thoughts down so I can (hopefully) return to dreamland, but sometimes like the other night, that plan fails me and I have to resort to other means. Sometimes I'm even forced to get out of bed and have a one to one with my art. Sigh.

Case in point-- last night. I woke up, burning with an idea, and not a pad or pencil to be found. But, luckily, my phone was by the bedside since it doubles as an alarm. Last night it tripled as a note pad. I texted a message to myself: "ladder birds". Ladder birds. It made sense to me.

And today, kistka in hand, it began to make sense, and take shape for the world.

Stay tuned....

Website for czukart

(The following is an PSA.) 

The White Tower Collection (sold separately or as a set)

So, what's your website? That's a question I've been hearing more and more these days, as I get more public about my art, both pysanky and 2D work. These days, I'm more likely to reply, "it's in progress", which it is -- and should be going live sometime in the near future.  Some extremely talented friends (more on that, later) are helping me, but I'm slow. It was hard for me to figure out what I wanted to show/do with an internet space that wasn't a blog. But now, I can tell you it's coming, and it will showcase my pysanky, my 2D art, and the art I'm doing as a Wheel of Time™ officially licensed artist (which includes both of the aforementioned categories.) I think the web address will be www.czukart.com, and know that it will be a storefront on shopify.com. It might be also listed as Amy Romanczuk Art. Not sure.

Birds of a feather (sold separately)

But:

Since it's not yet live, and I'm not sure it will be live before JordanCon (though I hope so), I can be reached by email or private message via one of those social media type sites where you may have seen my work, or even via message at this blog. If you're interested in a specific item or a commissioned piece, and you know what it is, tell me and we can chat about availability and costs. If you want to simply see what's available in pysanky, I can take a picture and send it to you if you give me your email address in the message. 

Pysindy Peacock (prints available)

I do promise to post as soon as the site is live. In the meantime, some of my pysanky are available at the wonderful Surface Craft Gallery on John St in Charleston, SC or Main Street Gallery on Main St in Clayton, GA.

How do you DO that? A Pysanky pictorial

Explaining the whole "wax and dye resistance" process regarding pysanky can be a tricky thing. "It's like batik on an egg" can only go so far.

For years now, I've brought a set of eggs to shows and sales to help depict the process -- the blank, white egg, with a few simple lines on it, and even pencil markings to show guidelines (though most of my work is done freehand, except for occasional guidelines to divide the egg into sections). The next eggs are the same pattern, after repeated dye emersion and wax application, until there's an egg that looks all black-- that's the last stage, where the final dye is in place, and the darkened beeswax is still on the egg. The next egg is with the same design, but with the wax removed.  (That process of melting off the wax is what many of us who write pysanky refer to as the magic of the egg, the big reveal to see how it all turns out.)

The thingies in the center of the tray are a couple of the kistky I use. Some folks use electric ones, but I've stuck with a more traditional type of kistka. I use beeswax candles to heat them, and then dip my kistka into a small cake of beeswax. The air is redolent with that wonderful smell. There's something about that, and the gliding of the kistka across an egg shell, that is truly meditative for me.

And that's how I spend many of my days, breathing in the perfume of honey and beeswax, waiting for the eggs to reveal their magic: the art of pysanky.

What are Pysanky?

Ukrainian Egg Decorating has been handed down through generations since before the time of Christ. The symbols and colors all contain meaning, representing life: wishes of hope, health, prosperity, safety, and blessings. With the advent of Christianity, the symbols have taken on additional meanings reflecting the prayers and hopes that the coming of Christ has brought to Christians. Pysanky means “to write” as egg shells are not painted, but are decorated in a process using wax resistance and dyes. Each pysanka carries a one of a kind message of hope and good wishes. Legend has it that as long as pysanky are written, goodness will prevail over evil throughout the world.

Amy Romanczuk is a book enthusiast, a pysanky artist, and retired pediatric nurse in Charleston, SC. She is self-taught pysanky writer of Ukrainian heritage. Several of her original design pysanky were accepted into the collection of Museum of Ukrainian Decorative Folk Arts in Kyiv, as representational from artists outside Ukraine. #czukart
Please message me for purchase details. 

2015 crop of Pysanky

Someone asked me if I have my pisnackie (aka pysanky) available for Valentines and Easter this year. Why yes, I do. Message me for pictures of what's available or for commissions. smile emoticon Thanks!

Handy Dandy

At some point in my pysanky career, I decided I didn't like the methods of drying eggs after varnishing that were recommended by many of the folks with whom I was in contact. Instead, I constructed my own rack, made from floral foam and wires. When we moved, the old board was really crummy looking after years and oodles of eggs. So today, I recreated it. It looks so happy and pristine, no varnish drops and no dents or missing chunks. I just had to take a picture of it on its maiden voyage. (And yes, that is an ostrich egg in the background, done probably a dozen years or so ago. It's the first ostrich egg I did, and I believe the pattern was from Luba at UGS, not an original, though the color choice is my own. It's also not the humpty dumpty egg that broke and I put back together. That's another story.)

Note: Some of the above pysanky are original designs, though 3 are inspired by pictures I've seen online of Luba's, traditional patterns such as 48 triangles, and of other artists. Again, the color choice is my own.

Why my hands were blue and purple yesterday

\Morale is: don't use bargain paper towels when doing pysanky . (These still need to be cleaned properly of wax and varnished. The floral one is inspired by henna designs I've seen of late.) Thank heavens for lemon juice and baking soda, which took the dye right off my hands when I scrubbed with it.  Also, for anyone who writes pysanky, the other two were started before I packed up my supplies over a year ago, and I couldn't remember the colors under the wax. My old dyes were weak, hence the faded colors on the one with the squares. I might have changed up the colors  and fill on the other one, had I remembered what was there. Oh well.

Pysanky dreams

Back in the day (and the day being somewhere around 1996 or so), we were in Washington DC for a family vacation, tacked onto a conference where I was speaking. I thought the lasting memory of that trip would be to show our son the town where I grew up, and to share with him the sights and sounds of our nation's capital. I was wrong.

We had just come from one of the Smithsonian museums (which was a large hit with the young czuk), and were wandering the Mall, where Folklife Festival was in full swing. We watched dancing from Thailand, heard music from Latin America and the Caribbean, tasted food from the Bahamas. It was grand. But that year, there also were exhibits featuring Masters of Traditional Arts; those talented treasures we honor with the title of National Heritage Fellows. As we walked down the grassy Mall, my eye was caught by a woman in Ukrainian garb, and I pulled my guys over to her, eager to expose our son to a bit of his heritage.

Inside the tent, the woman was delicately holding an egg in one hand. With the other, she was using a tool* to draw lines on the egg. Spread across the table in front of her were the most beautiful eggs, jewels of bright colors and intricate designs. I'd seen pictures of these eggs since my own childhood, but never seen anyone create them.  The designs and colors had fascinated me ever since. Transfixed, I watched as she added elements to her design and then submerged the egg into a jar of colored fluid. My hands itched to try, but I knew that I could never create such beauty. I was no artist. I'd even had a teacher tell me so in eighth grade, when I finished a painting of a sunset on water, which I'd slaved over for weeks. My colorful flourishes of swirling light didn't match up with her image of art. Her scorn, and her unkind words, became chains to my creativity and confidence.

My guys wandered off to another exhibit, while I stood enchanted, watching Betty Pisio Christenson write pysanky. I listened to her tell other visitors about the art, some of which I knew already from my immersion into Ukrainian culture through my marriage to Javaczuk. (Though my family origins are in Ukraine, my ancestors were Jewish, and did not create this type of folk art. The two cultures shared words and foods, but not art.) As I stood there, like a groupie, we began to talk. I told her I'd loved the pictures of eggs I'd seen since childhood, and always wished I could create one.

"Well, why don't you?", she asked, with kistka in hand.

"Oh, no. I'm not an artist. I could never do such beautiful work, or that kind of detail."

"Have you tried?", she responded.

"Um, no..."

She put the kistka down, pushed her glasses up on her forehead, and looked at me sternly. "Well, don't tell me you can't do it, until you've tried."

Chastened, I shut up, and scurried out of the tent soon after. But the beautiful pysanky still called my name. I regretted not taking pictures of her and her eggs. I wistfully remembered their beauty. But I did nothing else about it.

That September, 18 years ago last week, I opened a beribboned birthday present from my guys. Inside was a "starter kit" for writing pysanky, and a book. I stared at it, both thrilled and horrified, eager to try, but afraid to make a muck of it. But Betty's words, and my own heart's desire, proved too much. I picked up the book, read through it, grabbed my kistka and tried.

Since then, I've written** pysanky almost continually, with only slight hiatuses here and there.  When we put our home on the market last year, I packed away my pysanky supplies. In the new place, I was busy getting things settled and wasn't sure where I would do the waxwork, dying, etc. But now, I'm ready. My setup isn't perfect, but my tools are out, my dyes refreshed, and my mind overflowing with ideas. (Seriously, I can't fall asleep at night for all the ideas that flash through, and my dreams are colored with patterns, swirls, and designs.) I'm back in the saddle again, though it's not a six-shooter at my side, it's a kistka and beeswax. I'm headed  to the open canvas of eggshells, to write my art.


*For anyone interested, Betty was using an electric kistka that day, as it was blustery.

**Pysanky are written, not painted, using a wax and dye resistance process, much like doing batik on an eggshell. The letters and symbols all have meanings, and creating an egg is, for me, a combination of creativity and meditation. 

Eudora's Owl: Thoughts on being an artist

So, I've been thinking a lot about creativity.  I had an art teacher when I was in eighth grade who told me that if I ever hoped to be an artist, she hoped I married well, because otherwise, I'd starve. I believed her. After all she was an adult, and an artist, and my teacher. Surely she knew what she was talking about.

For years, I puttered about creating jewelry, crocheting, embroidering, messing with polymer clay or beads, but never thought of myself as an artist.  Even when I began writing pysanky, I still thought of myself as a dabbler.  It wasn't until I started donating things I made to charity for silent auctions that I began to think maybe my eighth grade teacher might have had her head up her bum when she gave her advice -- and this was only because I began to see my creations offered and listed as art, not as jewelry or crafts, or junk. People began asking for pysanky for special occasions, or commissioning them (which I would do for a donation to one of the charities I support, rather than for my own profit.) Then several of my pysanky were accepted by the Ukrainian Art Museum for their collection, and I had to rethink my self-definition.

Lately, I'm trying new mediums with my pysanky skills.  I'd written a number of bags and satchels, even an ice chest, with rave reviews, and thought maybe I can apply the pysanky symbols in other ways. So, I've been playing with colored pencils, paints, and markers, and having a wonderful time.

Today, this little owl was born. It's destined for Eudora, the youngest daughter of some dear friends. One of her first words was "owl" and she loves the birds.  Hope she likes it. I had fun bringing it to being. And see that egg in the basket below?  The one at the 6:00 position? that's the one I've saved for my eighth grade art teacher, just to prove that once I stopped listening to her wretched advice, I found my art.

Czukart.com rehomed as of January 2017

You have not time travelled. In January 2017, I moved this post to the front of my blog as a landing page from my shop, czukart.com. If you've come looking for my czukart shop, it is no more. However, I am still creating pysanky, pysanky inspired art, and line art. As of April 2019, I am no longer creating Wheel of Time™ related art. Feel free to contact me, via email or this blog, with your inquiries. I welcome your interest.

ABOUT PYSANKY

Writing pysanky is the traditional folk art of decorating eggs. It has been handed down through generations for millennia. The word pysanky stems from the Ukrainian word “to write". Pysanky are considered to be written thoughts using a combination of wax resist and dye to convey symbols and colors, rather than painted. Each pysanka carries a one of a kind message of hope and good wishes. Though often now associated with Easter, pysanky are for all of life's events, made for special occasions, or to transmit special wishes or prayers. The symbols and colors all contain meaning, representing life: wishes of hope, health, prosperity, safety, and blessings. Legend has it that as long as pysanky are written, goodness will prevail over evil throughout the world.

I write traditional, and nontraditional pysanky, including a many which reflect original art on eggshell in a pysanky-style, based on Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time™ series. Prints, coloring art, and original line art is also available.

The White Tower Collection

Simplicity

Birds of a feather

The Ajah Collection

As of May 2019 I am no longer creating Officially licensed WoT artwork.