Inspirational Out on the Edge

Out on the Edge

Leah Merriman

I want the phrase “out on the edge” as an artist to mean I feel trendy, confident, and maybe teetering on the brink of feeling successful.

But the reality of this past year has given new light to that phrase and has me feeling like the frazzled and alarmed character illustrated on the cover of Shel Silverstein’s “Where the Sidewalk Ends.”

Here I am, desperately hanging onto the edge of what used to be my reality, my beloved concrete slab, the last remnants of a familiar world, staring down into the unknown abyss where I used to go to make my art.

For the last 12 months, due to health reasons, my family and I have been quarantining in our home. That’s one year in seclusion with my wonderful, yet also lazy and neurotic husband.

My second-grade daughter shares my studio space as her dual virtual classroom, which puts restraints on when I can actually work on certain stages and techniques in my encaustic painting process. It’s put a diferent twist on how and when I am able to work. Her school schedule changes day-to-day and between that and a very demanding, busy and somewhat lonely 3-yearold brother constantly challenging my patience and sanity, I have had no way of having any kind of consistent work flow.

Lemp Mansion Encaustic, oil, oil pastel, ink, vellum, shellac, pigment on wood 12 x 10 x 1 in

I’ve had no shortage of ideas, so my lack of production cannot be blamed on that.

It’s not creative block, as much as production avoidance. I know creative block; I’ve had it in the past as many artists do.

I’ve dealt with depression and the ebb and flow of productivity that occurs when the train tracks of emotion become more of a roller coaster ride than a smooth, relaxing murder on the Orient Express.

But the challenges in creative productivity this year have honestly been monumental to anything I have experienced previously. My grief has felt physically paralyzing.

Smoke and Snow Encaustic, oil, oil pastel, charcoal, ink, vellum, shellac on wood 5.5 x 21 x 1 in

I’ve come to realize in these last months that I’ve produced my favorite body of works so far when I am happy. When I feel good, I feel mobilized and self-motivated.

However, I could be absolutely wrong. It might be that I’m not a “happy artist” after all, just a “happy to be alone every once in a while” mom artist. If given a chance, meaning any amount of time alone, maybe I could in fact produce brilliant work during this time.

I’m an introvert, I’m a Virgo, and I need self-restoration desperately and during these times there just hasn’t been any. I need some sense of calm and order to be able to progress forward in my work and the lack of that structure over this past year has left me a bit lost.

The Turkish Pavilion Encaustic, ink, vellum, oil, oil pastel on wood 5.5 x 11 x 1 in

I’ve read countless articles on the physiology of artists’ brains, and how severe anxiety and stress can “turn of” the creative parts of our brains in order to utilize the “fight or flight” response more readily.

I’ve read that during the pandemic, artists have felt aimless in their creativity with so many work-related projects and events put on hold or canceled.

Being a visual artist is a way of revealing one’s inner self to others, and that’s difcult for anyone in any profession. Exposing yourself makes you raw and vulnerable. To put that emotion on display next to the upheaval in the current world, it can seem extremely trivial and irrelevant.

But I have hope. Because out here on the edge, I also see spring, warmer weather, and vaccinations on the horizon.

I have hope that my kids will get to go to school this fall, hope that a bit of alone time for self-care will come back into the picture. I hope that I will be able to push through the excuses currently lining my days and repel back down into the creative zone, where I can keep my attention on my process and goals: Where I am happiest, instead of just hanging out here on the edge wishing I could get my head in the game again.

Hopefully, sooner than later, the phrase “out on the edge” will have an entirely new context in my studio.

Snow Day Encaustic, oil, oil pastel, ink, vellum, shellac on wood 5.5 x 11 x 1 in

Floral Skies Encaustic, oil, oil pastel, ink, vellum, shellac, pigment, gold leaf on wood 11 x 5.5 x 1 in

About My Process

I don’t often use gesso in my work. I know it uses more medium as the substrate soaks it in, and I know it can cause issues with bubbles as I’m building up a piece, but I love being able to see the wood grain through my pieces.

While art is man-made, it’s always enabled by nature and that connection is very important to me. I like to be reminded of it, even when it’s being reflected behind an urban sky.

I usually begin a piece with clear encaustic medium, and from there I’ll build up the sky by adding and fusing in layers of colored medium, shellac burns, dry pigment powders, and oil pastels.

Meet Me In the Rose Garden Encaustic, oil, oil pastel, ink, vellum, shellac, pigment, gold leaf on wood 5.5 x 11 x 1 in

Mississippi Sunset Encaustic, oil, oil pastel, ink, vellum, shellac, pigment, gold leaf on wood 5.5 x 11 x 1 in

I illustrate the painting’s scenery with ink on vellum, which I then soak in the hot medium until it’s fully absorbed the wax but before it falls apart. Then I cut out the scenes and layer them in my painting according to their correlating depth in the final piece. As I build up each layer, I add in permanent and gel inks, oil pastels, dry pigments, and metal leafing to add and highlight details.

Sometimes a piece is completely smooth once finished, and sometimes I leave a lot of texture on the top layers. It all depends on what I’m painting.

For Mrs. Fasterling Encaustic, oil, oil pastel, ink, vellum, shellac on wood 10 x 12 x 1 in

Bevo Mill (We’re All Immigrants) Encaustic, oil, oil pastel, ink, vellum, shellac on wood 24 x 24 x 2 in

About the Author Leah Merriman is a native to St. Louis, working primarily in encaustics to create ethereal, layered abstract landscapes with detailed urban scenery on cradled wood.

As a teenager, she apprenticed for several years under a wellknown local sculptor and artist, Fontbonne Professor Emeritus Rudy Torrini in his home studio. Under his guidance she studied sculpture, woodcarving, and illustration.

Merriman first began playing with encaustics in 2012 after attempting to figure out a way to “paint deeper,” when doing a series of acrylic paintings featuring the depth of the Grand Canyon. She began showing her works publicly in 2013 and hasn’t quit yet.

She had her first solo show in the Spring of 2019, Familiar Layers: Encaustic Scenes of St. Louis, Part 1, at Third Degree Glass Factory. She is now a permanent resident artist at Green Door Art Gallery in St. Louis, MO.

Merriman currently lives and works out of her in-home studio in town with her husband, two small children, several animals, and a not-so-small army of plants.

You can view Leah’s work at www.stlwaxworks.com www.facebook.com/StLWaxWorks www.instagram.com/stlwaxworks