Totem

oil on panel, 36" x 24"
PRIVATE COLLECTION

This follows a similar structure to the painting New Growth(see earlier post). I was reading Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead while working on this. The painting concerns itself with a similar theme as the book, regarding society building on the achievements of previous societies. The book sees this borrowing as lack of originality, and while I appreciate that aspect, I also see it as a passing on of the torch, so to speak. It really depends on a case by case basis.

The painting is an allegory. The upper hand reaches skyward, striving for excellence, and is concerned with vision as it comes forth from the head above the eye (eye = consciousness). The lower hand seems to struggle to grasp a snowy mountain peak, still making the journey. The African figure has a white eye mask, serving as the opposite of a blindfold, i.e. enlightenment. The black head/neck form a kind of totem pole that is primal, the eyes seeing in the dark (unconscious).

The painting is funny in that it could be about the duality and sense of purpose within one individual, while at the same time can be interpreted as the diversity and ambition of a group: policies and social orders are not always what they appear at face value, but may come from unconscious drives common to a society. [This could lead to discussions regarding Manifest Destiny, the Iraq War, Genesis and the environment, the manipulation of the masses in advertising, etc.] The painting is about the positive aspects of people and culture, but is not in denial that this tension with a more mysterious side exists. There is mystery in the psychology of the individual as well as in the psychology of the larger culture. It is so complex that discussion of it is really out of my range of expertice. I am better at painting the allegory, but this is a window into what I am thinking.

Self-Portrait Spring Azure

oil on panel, 24" x 20"

Oh, look, it's another picture of me! I really don't own any of the "All About Me" line of clothing, but I suppose I might just as well.

It's funny, everytime I wake up, I'm there, and everytime I go to do something, I'm there; it's like I just keep showing up. I can imagine that one impetus behind Cindy Sherman's http://www.cindysherman.com/ work may be to be someone else for a change. Not me, though, I'd rather stick it out, accept my quirks, and wait for the wisdom that is supposed to come with age. If you are bored with me, you can go look at someone else's blog.

I have these rings on the brain lately, and here they have made it into my head and through it. This started as a normal-looking portrait, but it didn't feel finished and was rather mundane. The head was well-defined (all done from imagination rather than direct observation), and the rings were there, but it was too controlled and didn't have enough life in it. I decided to add the spring azure butterfly, one of the first to be seen in spring, and to bring the background into my head and vice versa. It gave the painting the kick it needed as well as added meaning.

I look through the lens of the butterfly wing with one eye (it is the lens of spring optimism) while the other eye is perhaps more "realistic" in its treatment as well. The fluid relationship of the background with my head connotes the interconnectedness of life. The rings have symbolized souls in my other artwork. I had the pleasure of realizing after painting this (this is what I love about making art) that in this case they are also "social circles." The holidays left me attending several gatherings where I enjoyed the company to the fullest. This brings us to another trendy slogan on little girls' shirts: "social butterfly" (accompanied, of course, by a picture of the insect). That is the other meaning of the butterfly here. The gray winter skies of western New York are made to feel like blue spring ones because of the presence of friends.

Hands

18" x 24", charcoal on paper

These drawings are about ideas concerning basic human contact, relationships, intimacy. Whether shaking hands or holding hands, two people are coming from their own perspectives and meeting with expectations that may or may not coincide. Perception, intention, interpretation, touch, what is said and unsaid are all a part of the complex communication surrounding this gesture. The meaning of the act is complex, whether it occurs in business, politics, friendship, or romance.

I decided not to do paintings of these images because I think color would be a detraction. I like that the the figurative elements seem to be made of the same stuff as each other and the space they are in. The drawings are almost like snapshots, isolating the gesture from context for contemplation.

I am a huge Guston fan and I admire the way he unselfconsciously paints hands:

http://www.hmsg.si.edu/images/collection/img_medium/92.18.jpg

http://www.morasha.it/arte/immagini_arte/guston2.jpg

http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/EDF/5024PG~Paw-c-1968-Posters.jpg

That goes for Max Beckman, too:

http://www.apollogallery.ie/images/news/171_beckmann4.jpg

http://art-quarter.com/beck/joe/dd/1/31/beckmann-woman.jpg

Self-Portrait with Christoph (Eyes)

oil on panel, 24” x 20”

This obviously owes something to Cubism and Neo-classicism with the way my head looks like a marble bust, painted flatly in light gray-blue and given definition with line. In contrast, Christoph is portrayed in colors more true to life. There is a white shaft of light that goes through one of his eyes, illuminating his nose, neck, and part of his torso. Lines connect my right eye with his as well as to my other eye in profile. This central eye is the artistic eye and it looks like an Egyptian hieroglyphic eye. It is the creative, symbol-making eye that exists in all artists from all cultures throughout history (thus the Greek and Egyptian references).

This painting is a tribute to Christoph as a person close to me who appreciates my work anbd identitiy as an artist. We have a dialogue; we see eye to eye and the shaft of light going through him shows how he is illuminated, mutually benefiting from the artistic process. The surrounding space is a neutral, shimmery gray, simultaneously magical and mundane. It is the day to day stuff from which we kindle sparks in order to make art and romance. Not is always an easy feat in either instance, but worth the effort.

Open-mindedness

Digital Image

This is the image for the sign for "open-mindedness" that I came across in a sign language book. As hands hold special interest for me, it is appealing to think of the gesture having additonal significance. The resulting image is a lot like a sign, with its clarity and legibility. I am fascinated that the pictorial translation of the action allows for the hands and forearms to be outgrowths of the head, the mind. I chose a peaceful sea and sky to envelope the figure, connoting the tranquility of openmindedness. To be open-minded is to be receptive to new ideas and experiences, without losing oneself in the process. In this sense it connects to the exploration I am doing in self-portraiture as well as to our politically divided nation and global conflicts.

One hand almost appears to hold a cloud on a string, like a kite. The line/string is a part of the folds of the fingers, which becomes cloud and current. It is the transparency of the "upper hand" that reiterates the theme. The diction is concise, as is Chinese landscape painting. It is also a quality in Guston drawings, which I aspire to, and was fortunate to see this week at McKee Gallery.

Lunar Moth Self-Portrait

oil on panel, 36" x 42"

I seem to be on a roll with the self-portraits. This one owes a lot to the use of the tablet as a tool to reconstruct an image. It adds to the content of the Lunar Moth digital image from last week's post. I like that the moth looks like it just flew through my head, but is also a part of my head. Art that addresses spirituality has to love the ephemeral. It is painted in a way that combines technical control and loose brushwork. Modern dance has that precison of form combined with improvisation and visceral movement. Something about the flatness and division of shapes remind me of Mondrian, who was very exacting and painted to jazz.

I had an uncle who was an artist who has always been my role-model on how to live. When I was a little girl, he grabbed the brass rings for me while I rode on the carousel. He also gave me a tiny, gold ring when I was a baby. Those gold rings coming out of my head symbolize the people who have died who have made an impact on my life. "Grab the golden ring" is a "carpe diem" equivalent for me, but here it also suggests holding onto what is impossible to touch.

There is a large contrast between this new self-portrait and Self-Portrait Stepping Over a Threshold. Coming back home after the show in NYC, where I returned to family, friends, and my routine (including making art for the love of it), brought me back to center. It is a self-confident self-portrait. I also hope to be a positive person for others, as they are for me. There is a second way of looking at the head, if one follows the white curve on the left as the back of the head. It reminds me of "the man in the moon." Also in the fairy-tale vein, the head, end of the moth, and the manner that they are painted resemble an illuminated letter "Q", a cirle and tail. The "Q" would be for "queen" (not how I feel when I am cleaning the bathrooms), a metaphor for a strong sense of self (perhaps artistic self), solidity, autonomy. I've been interested in doing some things with crowns as spin-offs of the gold rings.

The painting was completed as the news came in regarding the Democrats taking the House, leading in the Senate, and Rumsfeld resigning. This change in government along with new innersoles gives me an extra bounce at Jazzercise and makes it feel as if Christmas has come early.

The moth wings also make for some funky sunglasses.

Lunar Moth

digital image

I am continuing to use linked circles. "Grab the golden ring" refers to the brass rings on the first carousels. Children tried to grab them while riding in order to win an extra time around. For me, they are about claiming one's life in an affirmative way, making the decision to live rather than exist, even if it means struggle. I will go further and say that reaching for the ring is an act of striving. The striving is not about productivity or the accumulation of wealth, but rather an openness to change and the pursuit of self-development. The rings are not here to symbolize an attempt to lengthen one's life, as if one could buy more time or cheat death, getting an extra turn on the carousel of life.

Lunar moths live about a week. The moths transform themselves in their short lifespans and become beautiful. Some people may say they are beautiful in every stage. "I am attracted to positive people like a moth is to light," is self-explantory. I love being around people who are not burned out, who have contagious enthusiasm; the kind of people that "light up a room." As we experience the darkness in the world, it is important that we don't allow it to hinder us in our paths into becoming our best selves. That is why twelve-step programs advocate removing oneself from the people, places, and things that encourage negative behavior.

Obviously there is a play on the word "lunar" here between the moth and the moon. The large circle, emanating light as well as gold rings, is the moon, but is also symbolic of the divine.

Here is a Luna Moth link:
http://www.ivyhall.district96.k12.il.us/4th/kkhp/1insects/luna.html

Christoph and Nicole

oil on panel, 21" x 25" and charcoal on paper, 18" x 24"

Here is another self-portrait, this time a painting and a drawing with my husband. The painting came first. It owes something to Charlotte Salomon (see links). The painting has the figures fused with a mountainous landscape while the drawing gives little reference for place.

In the drawing, I imposed the interlocking rings I have been using in other paintings over our heads, here reminders of wedding rings and marriage. Our son has been studying venn diagrams at school and I noticed that my image is one of sorts. "A venn diagram is a diagram used to divide up two or more objects to view similarities and differences. " - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Venn_diagram It is unlike Picasso's Girl Before a Mirror at the MOMA (a painting with lots of rings) in that there are two figures here and they retain their separate identities. http://blog.chosun.com/web_file/blog/438/5938/1/picasso-Girl-Before-a-Mirror_small.jpg While there isn't a mirror in the picture, the mutual gaze relates to the psychological idea of "mirroring."

In the drawing, we do not seem to be gazing exactly into each other's eyes. I think Christoph is looking a bit outward while I seem to look a bit inward. Perhaps we don't always see eye-to-eye, but we have enough common ground to make a solid unit and to complement one another.

Tug of War (Letting Go)

22" x 24", oil on canvas, 2006. Thanks to Rob S. for his post regarding Tug of War (Mass Grave II). It gave me the idea for this one. I liked his response that one can always let go. Sometimes the struggle, competition, and desire for the goal are so intense that letting go does not even cross one's mind as an option. This goes beyond the game, of course, and can apply to many things aside from war. That is what is great about art; a specific concept can reveal itself to be a common thread to diverse areas in life.

The hands in the picture seem to express a shock of realization, as if they are surprised to be letting go of the rope. They have a relationship with the figures, whose "v" shaped legs reflect the fingers. There is something here about being an individual and belonging to a group. The three figures are on the same team, but at a distance, their individuality is diminished. The hands are a pair to just one person, but the fingers are actors here, in rows, parts belonging to a whole. They are also all made out of red lines, like the umbilical cord rope; blood is at stake while the same human blood runs through all.

The visual syntax is distilled; the end of the rope looks like a thumbnail, color is reduced, description is secondary to the action. The hands also seem like wings, almost forming the shape hands make for a bird shadow puppet. Letting go is freeing.

Self-Portrait Stepping Over a Threshold

You will see from post to post that the appearance of my work varies. I am always pushing to expand my thinking and my artwork should reflect that. At the same time, when I wake up each morning I am still me, so that will hold true for the art, too.

Self-Portrait Stepping Over a Threshold (oil o panel, 2006, 24" x 20," $850) is about life changes, transitions. There is a lot of gray because I am "in the gray area," that place where one cannot fully understand the present without the benefit of hindsight and the future is unclear. The American Heritage Dictionary gives the following definition for "Threshold":

1. A piece of wood or stone placed beneath a door; a doorsill.
2. An entrance or a doorway.
3. The place or point of beginning; the outset.
4. The point that must be exceeded to begin producing a given effect or result or to elicit a response: a low threshold of pain.

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v.1.0.1) gives this as a fourth definition: Also called limen. Psychology, Physiology. the point at which a stimulus is of sufficient intensity to begin to produce an effect: the threshold of consciousness; a low threshold of pain.

I like the added part about the threshold of consciousness because it is somewhat mysterious. Perhaps the "low threshold of pain" applies, too, since growth and change often require uncomfortable, if not painful searching, as well as letting go of some things to make room for the new.

In the painting I am stepping over the doorsill, an obstacle, some kind of challenge. The wardrobe in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, is a threshold. C.S. Lewis knew what he was doing when he used that as a metaphor for the transition from the everyday world to a spiritual journey. Artmaking is like that for me. It is a vehicle through which to explore and cross thresholds. I've been feeling rather lanky lately, and it may be silly, but I am wearing my jazzercise shorts. All those Tae-bo moves feel empowering and if I'm going into a strange place, I want my sportswear on. It may be relevant that neither my foot nor the floor are visible. There is little information about the new destination and the visual cropping makes it seem as though I am stepping into the space of the viewer. It is one of the first paintings I have done as my show in New York City comes to a close. I am wondering how my work will evolve, what will come next. Returning to essentials, the painting starts with a look at myself. The reduction in color takes painting close to drawing, back to the drawing board, so to speak. Perhaps most significantly is that the rectangle could be an actual painting, so I am stepping out of one painting into another, or another form of reality.

I heard in a sermon today that living means changing and if you are not changing, you are dead. I don't want to make dead art. It is better to take risks and falter than cling to the known, resist change and hide from life. Of course there will always be people who will point out the imperfections when it is hard enough knowing that one can't help but be flawed. I have always liked the analogy that life is like learning to play the violin while on stage. I am lucky enough to have family and friends who celebrate the music whether or not I remember all the notes.

The Self-Portrait is a stupid looking painting in the way that Morandi and Guston look stupid at first glance. When you spend time with them more, they just seem more human, like the little red-haired girl to Charlie Brown when he finds out she chews on her pencil. The picture owes something to comics, specifically their graphic quality, exaggerated form, and superhero idealism.

My seven-year-old son made his first ITunes purchase of Move Along by the All-American Rejects. I still like it even after hearing it over a hundred times. There's some of the sentiment from the song in this picture, too. There are few role models of serious artists who are moms, so sometimes it seems as though it can't be done. Stay tuned.