Breakthrough art – as a process – is sometimes defined as art that challenges the artist.
It’s when an artist takes their work in a dramatically different direction, just to see what happens.
Maybe they like it. Maybe they hate it.
Either way, they learn something about themselves, their art, and their unique creative process.
First, the history of one disastrous “Breakthrough Shrines” workshop.
(It’s okay to skip this backstory.)
When I taught Breakthrough Shrines at Artfest 2004, it was unexpectedly controversial.
The theme was “Art Shrines from Dark to Light.”
In that half-day workshop, students would start with dark (or dark-ish) rubbings on paper as a background.
Then, inside a shallow box, they’d build upon that background, adding two- and three-dimensional items. They could lean into dark themes or—as intended—use elements to segue into lighter subjects.
Either way, it was up to them, and the result might be a collage or an assemblage, depending on the items they added. (Or, it might be a half-finished work casting light on their own artistic processes.)
What emerged—literally and figuratively—could give them fresh insights into dimensional art and their own artistic process.
These workshops had been inspired by one of 2004’s most popular books and movies, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.
Its ending had set the leading characters on a new path, albeit an uncertain one.
I wanted to emulate that, but in a workshop for artists eager to explore their creative boundaries… and push past them.
Leaning into that theme, I’d brought a wide range of materials for students to use. They included beach shells, coins, pressed pennies, vintage jewelry, handmade castings, and other textured items to use for rubbings.
I also encouraged them to take paper and charcoal or conte crayons, and go outside to make rubbings. (Artfest 2004 was held at Fort Worden Historical State Park. It offered an abundance of sites with surfaces and materials ideal for making rubbings.)
Also, for those who wanted to start with really “dark” themes, some of my castings were from 18th-century (and earlier) New England sites, including memorials.
Most of those castings featured angels and religious themes, but some were— admittedly — gothic. (Note: All were responsibly cast, legally, using techniques that risked no damage to the original art and carvings.)
Some of my Artfest students were delighted to have access to those casings; others were very creeped out by the 18th-century images. They complained loudly about my workshop.
By contrast, I taught this same workshop at other venues that year (and in 2005), with the same materials, and it was always well received.
Regardless, that was the last year I taught at Artfest.
(That was okay. For many years after that, I taught at other, larger events such as Dragon Con. Clearly, my workshop style was a better match for those audiences.)
And now, here’s what the workshop was actually like, at each venue where I conducted it…
The purpose of this workshop
This particular class was designed as a process-based experiment intended to push students toward artistic expression outside their comfort zones.
We weren’t trying to create art to impress friends, family, or even ourselves. It wasn’t a by-the-numbers class. The finished work (if it even was finished in the classroom) didn’t matter as much as understanding the art process, and how it helps us understand ourselves.
Some caught the spirit of the exercise and produced amazing work. Others used the workshop as an opportunity to test new materials and techniques, with no other goals in mind.
At its conclusion, most students left the workshop happy. A few practically had to be pried away from the desks, as they wanted more time to work with more experimental pieces.
The following notes summarize those workshops and the pre-class mini-class held the night before.
You can adapt this process to fit your goals, whether that’s pushing your creative boundaries or producing a fresh, fun art shrine that you’ll display with pride.
Step one: Prepared the shrine container
To get the most from this shrine-creation process, start with a medium-small box.
For my students’ use, I usually brought cigar boxes made from heavy cardboard with a paper surface. (You can buy them for less than $5 each at Amazon.com.)
Of course, you can use wooden cigar boxes, or almost any box.
However, the surface should be something that plaster and gauze will stick to. (If the container is slick, painted, or metal, you may need to sand it and/or coat it with gesso.)
Drape the outside of the box using something similar to plaster cloth. My directions are in Adding texture with plaster and gauze, two pages of step-by-step instructions.
Step two: Rubbings & mixed-media collage
After waiting for the shrine’s exterior to dry—usually overnight—it’s time to create the interior.
I recommend using rubbings for your backgrounds. They’re a fast way to cover a lot of the surface, uniquely.
In addition, rubbings can reveal some interesting images you hadn’t expected.
You’ll create the rubbings using any kind of paper, from printer paper to tracing paper to… well, whatever comes to mind and is thin enough to pick up details on whatever’s below it.
The paper should be flexible but not too flexible. You’ll want to capture the textures beneath the paper, without tearing it.
In most cases, it’s smart to secure the paper with adhesive tape; I use blue “painter’s tape.” It’s unlikely to leave any marks or residue on the support surface.
To make the marks, rub a soft marker (but not a magic marker or felt writer) over the paper, picking up details from the support surface. Conte crayons, soft pencils, or even children’s everyday crayons can work well.
In real life, any kind or quality of rubbing will work. The rubbing can be flawed, missing areas, or even ugly. That’s okay! The point is to look at surfaces in a new way and then integrate the results into your finished shrine.
Try rubbings from:
- a screen door
- the sidewalk outside your home
- metal plates and markers at historical locations*
- the numbers from your front door
- objects in your jewelry case or from your kitchen tools
- keys and coins in your wallet, or
- textured items like rubber stamps.
*Note: Check with authorities before making any rubbings at historical sites, monuments, churchyards, cemeteries, etc. In some communities, the art on stone – and some metal – surfaces can be fragile, and easily worn down if used for rubbings. (In some communities, it can be illegal to create rubbings at some locations.)
These rubbings are primarily backgrounds for mixed-media embellishments. You can use just one large rubbing, or piece several together, side-by-side or layered as a collage.
A few tips for rubbings:
- Elegant rubbings with Renaissance Foil – a neat trick with dazzling results.
- Using rubbings in your art – additional resources and ideas, no matter where you are
Step Three: Add mixed media layers
Once you have a background you like, start adding items – created, purchased, or found – in layers. I encourage students not to think about this too much, but instead add items and embellishments on impulse.
Those items can be anything from coins to buttons to snippets of fabric, or small toys, playing cards, junk jewelry, or… well, absolutely anything. The idea is to make this a three-dimensional piece, preferably with quirky bits placed impulsively.
You can glue or tape them in place as you work, or arrange the pieces as you think you’d like them, and then go back and use glue, etc. (I encourage you to glue or tape as you go along. Don’t get too finicky about this.)
Then pause. See what the shrine is telling you, either a story or something about where your art is going… or both. Or maybe neither!
Step Four: Stop when it feels right to stop.
Whether you’ve added one more element or 20 of them, pay close attention to your intuition. Stop when it feels right to stop. Or when you can’t seem to decide what to add (or remove) next.
Definitely stop if you feel bored, tired, angry, or even sad about the shrine.
It’s better to stop too soon than to continue and risk that more elements might conceal the essence of the finished piece.
Step Five: Revisit the shrine days (or even weeks) later
Put the shrine aside for at least a few days. When you revisit it, you should be ready to look at it as if someone else had made it.
See what catches your attention. Consider what the shrine might be telling you about yourself, and directions you may want to explore with your art.
If you don’t like the shrine, you can take it apart to use pieces in another project or even throw it out.
However, even if you truly hate it – and this sounds preposterously woo-woo – I still recommend putting it aside for a few months, or even a year.
Then, take a fresh look. See if you feel differently about it, and if it speaks to you about your past, your art, or… well, something else.
After completing the inside of the shrine, finish the outside by layering paint and polyurethane to add color and depth to the gauze. (Or, if you were aiming for a “mummy” effect, perhaps tea stain it?)
Optional extras: Easy antiquities and other finishing techniques
- Layering paint and polyurethane for rich depth, up to three layers is ideal.
- Embellishments for mystery and dazzle, and ideas for even better results.
The elements include a raven printed on muslin, in three sections.
The portrait in the gold oval frame is Virginia, Poe’s great love.
In the section to the right of her, there is a skull which was hand-carved from a deer’s antler. I found it at a flea market in Hollis, NH.
In the center section, the lines of poetry are from The Raven.
(Now, I use 
