New Artwork

Arts Itoya 2025 Residency Artwork 3: Blue Hour (藍影)

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Painting tanuki (Nyctereutes viverrinus) unintentionally became a multi-year quest, which lived up to the yokai version’s reputation for illusions and light-hearted trickery.

I decided to paint them on the fan-shaped washi paper which I dyed with indigo (aizome) in my workshop in Tokyo in mid-May. Due to the coloration of the washi and the folkloric aspect of tanuki, I chose to paint them in a limited color palette which isn’t completely monochromatic but which has indigo as the key color.

Tanuki are nocturnal, so the English title Blue Hour felt appropriate as the blue hour is a term for the short period of twilight just before sunrise or just after sunset. The Japanese title is 藍影 (Aikage), which means Indigo Shadows.

This is Blue Hour (藍影), acrylic and traditional indigo dye on fan-shaped washi paper, 7.7x15.75”, 2025.

Arts Itoya 2025 Residency Artwork 2: Even the Shadows Are Fresh

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There’s a word in Japanese that doesn’t quite have a satisfying translation to English: 新緑 (shinryoku). It’s the new, lush green of early summer. One of the plants that always captures that feeling for me is the ginkgo tree (Ginkgo biloba). I wanted to capture 新緑 in a painting of ginkgo leaves.

In researching possible titles for this painting, I learned that the ginkgo tree holds particular significance in Japan as one of the “survivor trees” that survived the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. I watched a short documentary on the man who has dedicated himself to caring for these trees and the trees themselves here. I highly recommend watching it; it is a moving story.

I also was inspired by haiku about shinryoku and related concepts like wakaba and midorisasu, like this poem from the poet Teruko from the Rainier Haiku Ginsha: “は一色ならず色重ね (shinryoku wa hitoiro narazu irokasane) / fresh green is not one color but layered hues.”

This is Even the Shadows Are Fresh (新緑), acrylic on round wooden panel, 12x12x.875”, 2025.

As a little bonus, here are a few images I’ve gathered of ginkgo leave motifs around Japan!

Arts Itoya 2025 Residency Artwork 1: Blood Lily

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I’ve wanted to paint a red spider lily (Lycoris radiata) for some time because of their Asian iconography. In Japanese, this flower is the 彼岸花 (higanbana), and it symbolizes death, farewells, and the afterlife across Asia. It is planted around graveyards due to its toxicity, which discourages animals from disturbing graves. In artwork and storytelling (including anime), higanbana often foreshadows an upcoming fatality. An interesting botanical aside about this plant is that the bulb blooms first; usually only after the flowers die does it send out leaves!

Higanbana blooms between late August through early October, around the autumnal equinox. Due to my teaching schedule, my visits have only been possible in the early summer, so I couldn’t see them bloom in person here in Japan. I also tried and failed to source a bloom in the USA; due to its floriography, florists don’t carry it and if I bought and planted a bulb, it typically takes 4-7 years to flower.

However, a friend and Morningside alumna is relocating soon to Tokyo, and she was visiting Japan last autumn. I asked her if she’d be able to do me the favor of taking a few photos of these flowers and ceding me the copyright. She was willing and accomplished the task, so when I arrived at Takeo-onsen, I began work on this painting right away!

This is Blood Lily, acrylic on lattice pattern brass leaf Torinoko paper, 11.6x17.5”, 2025. It’s impossible to simultaneously photograph the painting well and show the reflective sheen of the paper, so just know that this painting is far more regal in person due to the golden metallic luster of the substrate.

Attending a Chopstick-Making Workshop in Kawagoe

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Last year in advance of my residency, I attended washi paper-making and kintsugi workshops in Tokyo before heading down to Yakushima, an island known for its natural wonders. There are always more things one could do than time to do them in, so I prioritized immersion in nature to gather reference imagery and experiences, but one of the opportunities I was sad to miss out on in Yakushima was the chance to make my own set of wooden chopsticks.

Since I was lucky enough to get to come back to Japan this summer, I looked into whether there were any chopstick workshops in or around Tokyo. The most frequent recommendation was to visit a town called Kawagoe, which by a combination of train, bus, and walking was about an hour and a half away from where I was staying. There, Wood Works Kawagoe (Karaki Woodworking) offers a workshop in making chopsticks.

When you arrive at the shop, you either can begin right away if there are available seats or you get a digital ticket reservation. When I showed up, all the seats were full but I was the first in line. One of the workers told me it would likely be around 45min wait, so I walked around the touristic “old town” streets of Kawagoe for a little bit, but 15 minutes later my seat was already open!

You first choose from a suite of wood blanks, selecting for either appearance, hardness, or both. I was instantly most attracted to the high contrast bocote of the selection options, which also happened to be one of the harder woods (and one of the most expensive). The shop presented the hardness of the wood as a potential upside and downside simultaneously, in that hardwood is good long-term for durability but is more difficult to shape, as it requires more strength to plane and sand. Bocote is a decorative wood not native to Japan (imported from Central America), but there are a lot of traditional woods for chopsticks that are imported including ebony, rosewood, and purpleheart.

I particularly liked one of the bocote wood blanks that had eyes in it, so I asked if they had any more pieces than what were on display so I could find a matching pair, and the staff kindly opened a deep drawer full of more blanks. I found two pieces that had a lot of contrast and some eyes.

A photo of me shaving down the first of my wood blanks.

Then I began the process of making my chopsticks. The blanks are printed with numbers on them, and you place one into a former in a specific sequence and shave down the wood with a plane until it becomes flush with the mold. You then rotate and put into the correct space in the sequence and do it again and again until you’ve done all four sides. Then you repeat the process with the second chopstick. I have to say that the hardness of the bocote was no problem at all at any stage, so I wouldn’t let the shop’s talk of needing sufficient strength impact your wood selection choice.

Sanding the chopsticks with coarse sandpaper.

Once you have finished planing, you refine the shape with a coarse sandpaper. Once you are happy with the shape of your chopsticks, you then polish them with a fine sandpaper. On this step, I polished until I thought they were likely good, and then asked a staff member to check. They said they could use more polishing, so I went back at it. I then asked again and received the same answer (which I was happy about - I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be aiming for or what was possible to achieve with the provided sandpaper, so I appreciated the feedback!). After polishing a third time, I got the OK to move onto the final step: oiling. I dipped each chopstick into linseed oil and rubbed it into the wood. This helps seal the surface while also highlighting the woodgrain.

When completed, you package the chopsticks and you’re done! I liked mine so much I thought maybe I should buy some sets of bocote chopsticks as souvenirs for others (the workshop also sells their own finished chopsticks), but when I went to look at their three bocote sets available for purchase, they were not nearly as beautiful as mine (and they were more expensive than mine as well, to cover the labor!). I ended up leaving with just my set. The workshop in total, including the type of wood blanks I selected, cost me about $35.

My finished, handmade set of bocote chopsticks!

I'm in Tokyo!

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I flew into Tokyo a few days earlier than my exhibition-related trip down to Yamanashi City, as I really feel jet lag so I wanted some time to try to burn a bit of it off first. I arrived on May 14th in the early evening. The next day, I stopped by my favorite paper store Ozu Washi to pick up a few items that I might want for my main event that afternoon: a traditional indigo-dyeing workshop at Hanten’s Mizuno Dye Factory at OKUROJI.

The workshop is of course intended for dyeing clothing, so I brought a few white cotton pieces along; however, I also wanted to dye some washi paper! Some of the washi I brought ended up not being suitable, but two pieces in particular were viable. I ended up dyeing those two along with a lightweight long-sleeved shirt and a blazer. The cost in total of the workshop was up there, but I thought it was worthwhile. I paid approximately $275 (and separately bought the items to dye as well) and spent over two hours preparing and dyeing my pieces.

I learned a bunch of tie-dye techniques in the process!

Mason Stain Crackle Raku Pottery

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The pieces of bisqueware I brought to this workshop (with markings noting which ones broke during the stressful firing process).

At my April 2025 raku workshop at Dakota Potters Supply, I experimented with several new techniques. One that I was really interested in was seeing how adding a Mason stain (in this case, dark teal) to terra sigillata slip and applying it as a top coat on my greenware would ultimately react with different finishing methods.

There aren’t really good recipes for adding Mason stain to wet slip (usually you’d add it to dry clay powder by weight and then add the water afterwards). However, I already had a bucket of mixed up terra sigillata slip in my house, so I just scooped around a cup of it into a small tupperware and added a heaping spoonful of dark teal Mason stain. I then applied it with a fan brush to several pieces of pottery that were still wet - not even leather hard, a bit wetter than that. The coloration significantly lightened as they dried, and I was left with a very light blue coloration. I was worried that might not be enough, so I added another heaping spoonful of the stain to the remaining dyed slip and applied that to a few more ceramics, experimenting as well with placement and markmaking.

To the right, you can see an image of the bisqueware I brought to the raku workshop; the pieces with X’s on them blew up in or shortly after removal from the kilns, so they were thrown out.

At the workshop, I was interested in two different techniques that would make use of the Mason stains: crackle glaze and ferric chloride saggar (or “baked potato”) firing. In this post, I will share the crackle glaze results. I could have used a white crackle glaze (and maybe I should experiment with that to see how opaque it really is), but I was worried it would be fully opaque so instead I applied clear crackle to two of the Mason stain pieces.

This first bowl, which is the rightmost bowl without an X on it in the bisqueware image, just has clear crackle applied to the inside, lip, and just around the lip on the outside. The rest of the piece I left bare to absorb the carbon from the reduction atmosphere.

Unfortunately the crackle either didn’t really crackle, or if it did, the very low contrast between the smoky dark grey and the dark teal is such that very few cracks are really visible. I think if I try this again I will either need to use way less Mason stain or experiment with white crackle or a mix of white and clear crackle. It is still a very pretty bowl, but a bit plainer than I wanted on the interior given the expense and “decorative” status.

Next, I applied crackle glaze to the interior of the taller dish with Mason stain terra sigillata slip on the interior and a burnished exterior. I then applied one coat of naked raku slip resist to the exterior.

The Mason stain crackle interior behaved the same as with the first bowl, so I have similar feelings about it. However, I am enjoying the mixing of techniques on one piece of pottery and plan to explore similar options moving forward.

I've Been Making Ceramic Sauce Bowls, Too!

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In addition to the chopstick rests, I’ve made a number of little ceramic sauce bowls to gift to folks in Japan as well! To complement my leaf chopstick rest designs, I went with flowers for these small dishes. I photographed a range of six, and then provided you with a single shot of one of my favorites:

And as I did with my chopstick rests, I’ve made a few small ceramic Sioux City dishes as well. I’ve included as a size comparison one of my Sioux City chopstick rests next to these little dishes:

Though my own vision is to use all of the above pieces of pottery as sauce bowls (for wasabi, yuzu koshō, etc.), they could serve as little trinket/ring dishes, too.

My Own Ceramic Chopstick Rest Designs!

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I’ve been producing a number of chopstick rests to give out as gifts this summer in Japan! The people are so nice and there’s such a gift-giving culture that I want to make sure I am able to reciprocate. I’ve mostly been making a variety of leaf chopstick rests:

However, I also am in the process of making a few Sioux City chopstick rests for those who are more connected to the sister city relationship between Yamanashi City and Sioux City or have strong bonds to Morningside University.

These are much more finicky to glaze, as keeping the text legible and the heart from “bleeding” into the white satin glaze requires a multi-step glazing process:

  1. I glaze the heart with two to three coats of glossy red with a small brush

  2. I apply wax resist to the heart and each of the letters with a very small brush

  3. I brush on two to three coats of the white satin glaze

  4. I painstakingly coax the glaze off the wax resist areas using a very small, wet brush

It’s tedious, but the results look great:

Shelby Prindaville's custom ceramic Sioux City, Iowa chopstick rest

Any of my chopstick rests can easily be converted into a magnet instead, if the recipients prefer to use them that way!

Behind the Scenes of Paper Snow (紙吹雪)

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Here are progress photos of Paper Snow (紙吹雪)! You can click on any of the thumbnails to see them larger in a sidescroll viewer. (Note that for in-process documentation, I rarely ensure a uniform lighting situation nor accurately color adjust the resulting photos like I do for the artwork photo.)

This painting was unusual for me in that I almost always start painting backgrounds before moving on to foregrounds and then going back and forth between the two until I think the piece is finished. With this painting however, I knew I didn’t want to obscure too much of the beautiful Uzurado dyed washi paper, so I started with the subject and then tested out just a cast shadow composition before adding a little ground and horizon.

New Artwork: Paper Snow (紙吹雪)

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During my first visit to Yamanashi City, I shared with several folks from city hall that I kept being stymied in my quest to see species-standard tanuki; as a consolation, they took me to Yamanashi City’s Manriki Park in the hopes of sharing their capybara with me. I was told it was up to fate as to whether I’d glimpse him or not, as sometimes he prefers to stay indoors (out of view). Fortunately for me, he was outdoors when we arrived and I was able to take some photos of him!

I painted this Manriki Park capybara atop Uzurado dyed washi paper from Ozu Washi. Uzura means quail in Japanese, and is a reference to the “paper snow” or confetti scraps and speckles decorating the paper like quail plumage.

This is Paper Snow (紙吹雪), acrylic on Uzurado dyed washi paper, 21.5x17”, 2025. Note my katakana stamp signature on the lower left below the capybara’s feet - that stamp was an extremely thoughtful gift from Yamanashi City to me!

An acrylic painting of Yamanashi City's capybara on Uzurado dyed washi paper by Shelby Prindaville

An acrylic painting of Yamanashi City's capybara on Uzurado dyed washi paper by Shelby Prindaville

Copper Mesh Saggar Raku Pottery

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I was most excited about trying this technique out at this recent raku workshop, as I’d only learned of it recently and I couldn’t find many photos online of it! I purchased two different brands of copper mesh scouring pads and then unraveled the pads and wrapped the copper mesh “socks” around ferric-chloride-dipped ceramics. I then bundled it all up in aluminum foil and saggar fired them (also known as the “baked potato” method).

Some tips:

  • If the ferric chloride is still wet, it will melt the copper mesh, so ideally apply it after the ferric chloride has dried. However, that means you can’t also use sugar for additional carbonization as it gets knocked off. If you’re feeling risky, you can daub some more ferric chloride atop the piece and sprinkle with sugar but it’ll then eat away all the copper in those areas.

  • The tighter the mesh atop the ceramic, the clearer the results. Really hug the vessel tightly for the most overall effect.

  • The resulting finish when taken right out of the foil looks like a hot mess due to all the ash produced - but after you rinse the ceramics off, their true appearance is revealed!

I’ve since learned that you can just buy rolls of copper mesh (so you don’t have to go the cutting-and-unraveling-scouring-pads approach unless you already have some on hand); I may play around with that moving forward! I really like the results I got from this process. In different areas, the copper mesh carbonization marks look like fish scales (or maybe dragon scales!), chainmail, webbing, fishnet stockings, or unraveling yarn. When the mesh only is in discrete spots, its marks also contribute to a layered, graffiti-like aesthetic.

Here’s the most mesh-marked piece of the batch, a small oblong vase:

Next, a small orb:

A weird little vessel I’m calling an oddgon:

And finally a larger, sideways orb:

Honey Rakuware

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I first tried honey raku in October 2023; I didn’t really like my own results at the time, but I learned two main takeaways in the process:

  • you very much want thin strands of honey rather than thick, so that it pulls into beads rather than leaving thick streaks

  • the honey works best on convex rather than concave forms, due to its propensity to run off vs. pool inside

With those in mind, I decided to give the honey raku finish another try atop two orbs, and I brought some honey drizzler sticks and a glass along for better stream control rather than using my earlier, clumsier technique of dispensing the honey via the squeeze bottle. Rotating these while they were insanely hot was asking a lot, so I really appreciated that Wanda was up for the challenge as she did that for me while I applied the honey.

Here’s the smaller sphere:

And the larger sphere:

The resulting pieces’ exteriors were smokier than the interiors since barely any honey made it inside, and the white shining out from the insides was distracting. I carefully stained the interior of the larger orb with India ink, and then watered it down a bit before staining the interior of the smaller orb as well. I love how they turned out; the bead trails of the honey almost look like planetary maps, comet/asteroid tracking paths, or constellations… a little bit like audio visualizations.

I also decided to experiment with a blue copper glaze in combination with the honey raku on a small bowl, even though the concave interior would be a challenge. What you can’t see in the below images is twofold: first, the blue lip is complemented by a blue base line, only visible when you lift the bowl up or get really down low. Second, this piece unfortunately lost the thermal shock lottery and has a number of minute cracks which make it less structurally sound. However, since it’s a decorative, low-fired piece anyway (as opposed to being food-safe or water-tight), the cracks are a permanent asterisk - but they won’t stop me from displaying or using it!

Slip Resist Naked Raku - Take Two!

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I also tried a two-stage slip resist naked raku again; I dipped burnished bisqueware with waxed bottoms into slip, let it dry until it began to crack, and then dipped it in clear glaze before firing. I first tried one- and two-step slip resist naked raku out in April 2024, with mostly very low-contrast results. This time, I had higher contrast results, but also let some the slip dry too long before doing the clear glaze dip, as some of it actually touched the clay surface in a number of areas on the larger oval bowl and a couple on the smaller bowl (both below). Though it wasn’t intended, if it’s widespread like it is on the oval bowl, I actually am visually into the result (much like I am into crazing/crawling, which are also considered glaze defects).

Here’s the little dish, which has the highest contrast I’ve produced in slip resist naked raku:

And here’s the larger oval bowl:

Copper Glaze Rakuware

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Here are the pieces of pottery I made with copper glazes (mostly) at the October 2024 raku ceramic workshop!

First, we have a textured orb:

Next, a hexagonal textured tray:

A rectangular tray:

And finally, an experimental landscape vessel which uses the new-to-me “yellow crackle” glaze in combination with two other copper glazes:

Arts Itoya Painting 6: Fleeting

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I had mostly finished this painting in time to exhibit it at Arts Itoya, but I knew I wanted to work back into it before declaring it actually complete. Once I returned home from Japan, got past the jet lag, and had a bit of time remaining before the school year started, I tweaked a number of areas until I was truly happy with the resulting piece.

This is Fleeting, acrylic on decorative Japanese stationery, 10.7x10.7”, 2024. It depicts a male crimson marsh glider (Trithemis aurora), also called a crimson dropwing, in flight above water.

Shelby Prindaville's acrylic painting of a male crimson marsh glider.

Shelby Prindaville's acrylic painting of a male crimson marsh glider.

Advance to Gogh Show is Up - With My Scra-baa Junior Piece!

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KTIV chose to use footage of me looking at artwork to illustrate their article about the Advance to Gogh event.

Just a reminder that I’m participating in a large group exhibition of over 40 Siouxland artists: Advance to Gogh. The opening artwalk receptions for this event (held at the Sioux City Art Center, Gallery 103, Three Rivers Gallery, Art SUX, and Vangarde Arts) was on Thursday, July 11th. I’m unclear on exactly when each of the participating venues will take down the show, but I believe it’s up at least through mid-August.

To the right, you can see an image of me looking at some of the exhibited artworks which was published by KTIV, and if you check the article and video out there’s more footage of me at the reception as well as their own event description and interviews.

In case you can’t make it, though, I’d like to share with you some images of what I did! In the random lottery, I drew the gameboard Scrabble Junior.

The original Scrabble Junior game board.

I decided to keep the illustration and prompt for “sheep” and then painted over all the rest of the illustrations and prompts, color matching with paint to “restore” the rest of the board to a clean, new appearance. Next, I painted a lamb at the base, added the words “& Shelby” to the wordmark, and carefully redrew the grid lines with marker.

Shelby Prindaville's repainted and drawn-over game board.

Finally, I added words for sheep in many languages to illustrate how one plays Scra-baa Junior!

This is Scra-baa Junior (“A ewe-nique edition!”), mixed media including acrylic, marker, varnish, and glue on Scrabble Junior game board with game tiles, 2024.

Shelby Prindaville's finished "Scra-baa Junior" artwork.

Arts Itoya Painting 5: Messenger

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My fifth painting is of a sika deer (Cervus nippon), painted atop a decorative camellia metal leaf washi paper. I applied the paint atop the gilding in a thin, translucent layer so that the metal leaf is still visible. In areas where the paint colors are similar to that of the metal, it’s difficult to see much difference head-on - but in darker coloration spots, you can discern it. However, if you stand at an angle or due to the light environment when reflections are apparent, the gilded decoration is visible throughout the whole painting. Below are two photos of the same painting, visually demonstrating what I describe above!

I encountered wild sika deer in Yakushima (the subspecies C. nippon yakushimae) and in Nara as well as saw them in zoos in Fukuoka and Yamanashi City. They are famous in Nara, as more than 1,200 roam freely around Nara Park and the grounds of several temples and shrines due to the deer serving as sacred messengers to the gods in the Shinto religion.

This is Messenger, acrylic on gilded washi mulberry paper, 26x18”, 2024.

Shelby Prindaville's acrylic painting of a sika deer on gilded washi paper.

Shelby Prindaville's acrylic painting of a sika deer on gilded washi paper, with the metal leaf visible throughout.

Arts Itoya Painting 4: Shingling

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My fourth painting is of a shingling plant I documented in Yakushima, in this case Ficus pumila. Ficus pumila is a native species in Japan (and other East Asian countries). I’m always attracted to epiphytic shingling plants (plants that climb up trees or rocks vertically such that their leaves look like lush shingles atop their substrate). This was a very time-consuming painting in both the drawing and painting stages, but I think it was well worth the effort!

Yakushima Island was not as fertile for rice production as other areas of Japan, so during the Edo period, Yakushima paid for its shoganate taxes by logging sugi trees and producing wooden shingles rather than in the more customary rice. This deforestation had negative environmental impacts. Reforestation and conservation efforts including declaring the island a UNESCO World Heritage site have since tried to rebalance the important island forest ecosystem. This painting’s title references both the plant’s growth habit and common grouping name as well as Yakushima’s ecological history.

This is Shingling, acrylic on round wooden panel, 12x12x.875”, 2024.

Shelby Prindaville's "Shingling" acrylic painting of Ficus pumila on a round wooden panel.

Arts Itoya Painting 3: Lifelong Renter

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My third painting is of a little hermit crab I met in Yakushima who was determined to be on his way. While I was working on the painting, a local Japanese man who stopped in at the studio shared with me that the name for hermit crabs in Japanese is ヤドカリ(yadokari), which means “borrowing lodging” or tenant. This painting is meticulously detailed and somewhat pointillistic.

The title is tentative, but for now: this is Lifelong Renter, acrylic on wood panel, 14x14 x.875”, 2024.

Shelby Prindaville's acrylic painting of a hermit crab, Lifelong Renter.

Arts Itoya Painting 2: Pursuit (Ichi-go ichi-e)

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My second painting is atop an aluminum leaf paper. This paper was hard to work with, as the paint doesn’t grip to it as well as I’d like (and my new Holbein metal primer did not help), and the tape I used to anchor the paper to a board ended up removing the foil off the corners. However, I persevered! The subject is a male Japanese rhinoceros beetle, called kabutomushi here in Japan: Allomyrina dichotoma. The adults only live for 2-3 months after pupating.

I plan to carefully varnish the beetle before framing this piece, but I’ll do that at home - so for here, it’s done! All of the metal leaf papers are hard to photograph, but I’m pretty happy with the below image.

This is Pursuit (Ichi-go ichi-e), acrylic on aluminum leaf paper, 11.5x17”, 2024. The Japanese romaji in the title, ichi-go ichi-e or 一期一会 in kanji, is a four-character Japanese proverb that means “one time, one meeting” and is about embracing the present.

Shelby Prindaville’s acrylic painting of a kabutomushi or Japanese rhinoceros beetle (Allomyrina dichotoma) on aluminum leaf paper.