The Last Supper

24" x 24"

oil on panel

This was done after Hans Holbein the Younger's Last Supper. Renaissance paintings are so compositionally elegant. They are geometrically solid. I enjoy the three paneled background and simplified the image to focus on the shapes and the light. I removed the figures except for some disembodied hands and feet, not feeling the necessity to have twelve sets as the narrative is now familiar to a large population. The floating body parts remind me of similar pictures that I saw in Italy at the monastery where Fra Angelico lived and painted. As I am interested in golden rings as symbols, the singular halo and its austere significance attracted me. I think it is especially beautiful hovering in the blue sky. Its lightness is in opposition to the compression of forms on earth, represented by the table and floor at the bottom of the picture.

Passing the Butterfly II, White Peacock

16" x 12"
2007
Oil on panel

This painting is addressing the same theme as Passing the Butterfly (Homage to Andrew Forge). The analogous palette is limited to green, yellow-green, yellow, white, black, and gray. I reached a point in painting it where I thought it was done. It looked good close-up, but at a distance it seemed illustrational and tight. Illustration can be Art with a capital “A”. The problem that keeps illustration from being fine art in many cases is that it is in service to getting a clear message across in a very concrete way. That being the goal, it is not often at liberty to pursue the mysterious and push metaphors to the limit. These things add complexity to art and offer the multiplicity of interpretation and rich symbolism that makes art vital and timeless.
So how did my painting get stuck being so literal? Sometimes I like to adhere to a likeness and I was being fairly loyal to the particular butterfly, the White Peacock. Maybe I was feeling cautious. I let it sit several weeks, like putting writing away in a drawer, and then felt ready to dig into it again. It required a bold mindset, as one might imagine Sargent feeling when he painted brushstrokes with bravura. He was never fussy. I made the three forms relate more to each other by bringing colors back and forth amongst them. I like the way the black separation (space) between the fingers of the upper hand visually blends into the body of the butterfly (form), like a crevice. It is a split in half that is echoed in the bottom hand through the yellow vertical line and the division in light and shadow. It isn’t obvious which hand is giving and which is taking. Often the act of giving fills oneself, as the cliché “It is better to give than to receive” extols.

Yellow-rimmed Eighty-eight, Michelle's Colors

36” x 24”
Oil on panel
2007

The palette of violets, blues, reds, and black is one which appeals to my painter-friend, Michelle Albert. We met at Massachusetts College of Art where we were in the same painting section. One of the exciting things about going to art school is the process of learning from ones peers. It is like a laboratory of people experimenting and searching. Observing the process of others is stimulating and contributes to one’s own creativity and learning process. Lasting influences are forged as ideas are embraced or rejected, often unconsciously.
I like the light in this piece, its dim, rich vibrancy, like that of stained glass, reinforced by and the black lines like lead. I want the image to dazzle, as do the Tiffany windows in my church.

Everything I am about to say is already known by others, but I think it is useful in relationship to the painting.

I am doing a series of paintings of hands holding a butterfly. I feel as though I could paint the subject over an over with many variations as it is a strong metaphor to me of the fragility, beauty, and temporariness of life. It is something we can hold only for a little while; it isn't fully in our control. We are in the often difficult situation of being fully invested in life while acknowledging that it is not ours to keep. It has to penetrate our hearts and then fly away. This is true of our own lives as well as our relationships with others. It is a magical, difficult thing to have friends and family who are so loved live far away. Transportation in the modern world allows us to have relationships long distance, which is a luxury, but also presents the problem of hellos and goodbyes. Sometimes the goodbyes are harder because there lurks the shadow of acknowledgement of death. The Greeks thought that the gods were jealous of humans for their mortality because of the preciousness it gives to living. Celebrating the moment is a way to stay in that frame of mind. I write this in an airport, waiting to board a plane to return to my husband and son after a weekend away to visit my brother in Florida. The butterfly in the hands is the way we hold others in our hearts; the beating is stronger for the weight.

Butterfly Release

30 in. x 24 in.

A joyous painting, it depicts butterflies set free from a box. The action is important here, so details are mostly absent and forms overlap, suggesting the chaotic fluttering of a moment. It is impressionistic in that respect. The cream colored butterfly in the upper right is the most in focus; thickly painted outlines also offer tangibility during an emphemeral event. I think that I would like to explore this idea further. Like Van Gogh's sunflowers, yellow carries an uplifting mood easily; high notes on a keyboard.

Butterfly Pinned

36" x 24"

oil on panel

The butterfly appears to be mounted for display, but that was not my conscious intention. The space is suggestive of a box, the white plane behind the butterfly is like a flap. It is not the first time that I have pictured a butterfly as a crucifixion (the symbology is resurrection in Christianity). The grays, black and white allow what color there is (variations on the complements green and red) in the insect to carry more weight. The dynamic, linear veins defining the segments are rhythmic and strong, electrified currents in a clinical atmosphere.

Strangely enough, the thought of a Russian dancer from Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker comes to mind. The drama of the dancer's outstreched arms and the struggle of the kicks while squatting, and the boldness of it all seems in sync with this creature. It seems ready to spring to life like one of the toy soldiers coming out of a box in the ballet. The dance is called the Trepak, and I found something similar in Russian Dance Ensemble Barynya's video clip:

http://www.barynya.com/video/nedorostok.mpg