Winter Landscape #10 (My Backyard)

This photo of the woods in my yard is to show an example of what I'm looking at; I'm not painting from the photograph. I took the photo on a different day than I did the painting, but the two share similarities in color, air, and format.

oil on panel

24" x 18"

Colors jump out at me, dots bringing them to the front. When looking at nature, one often sees colors that stand out as well as many neutrals too plentiful to name. The dots isolate some of these colors, like a sample of the painter’s palette, perhaps like the theme of a musical composition. [The ring of hand bells, singular and brief, are part of a song just as the dots are to the painting. Check out Sonos Handbell Ensemble in this music sample of the Hallelujah Chorus by Handel.] Color theory is in play with a range of tints (white added to a color) creating unity and subtle contrast. The pale rose tone of the woods functions as a red contrasting with the high-key green, its complement

I think some of my landscapes are in similar to Claude Monet but with a twist. When first learning about Impressionism, many people marvel at the way a Monet landscape looks like the subject matter but on closer inspection the same picture reveals evidence of its making. Pieces of paint stand on their own. The artist’s thought and hand is in its construction is laid before us, unlike the classical painting tradition in which there were steps to making a painting that are invisible in the final layer (grisaille, then color; broader brushes to small, soft ones which even things out; varnish for a glossy surface, example: Claude Lorraine, Landschaft mit Apollo und Merkur, 1645). Sometimes the circles function like the brushstrokes of a Monet: the landscape is seen as a whole at a distance and some circles are visible, but not as well until observed close up. Others are composed of such large dots/circles that their geometry is up front, announcing straight off that they are not about realism, such as Winter Landscape #8 (Blue Dots) in a previous post. In other paintings I paint the whole picture in dots while at other times I only place a few or none at all. A note relating to a comment on that painting: the term "pixel" is short for picture element (thank you Webopedia.com). Despite these nineteenth and twentieth century painterly sources I believe pixels also feed into my work. Pixels have changed the way we think about images: what they are made of or the way they can be reduced to a basic structure. Discontent with the mechanical aspect of pixelization, my work brings the human touch to this design element.

Painter, critic, and former Professor at Yale University, Andrew Forge is an inspiration. In the back of my mind I think of him, as he focused on paintings made of dots about nature and other subjects. He co-wrote a book on Monet with Robert Gordon. His friend, poet John Hollander wrote a poem "Effet de Neige" about Monet's painting La Route de la ferme Saint-Siméon dedicating it to Andrew Forge (in The Gazer's Spirit: Poems Speaking to Silent Works of Art). It is very moving speaks to the mystery in the space of landscape, life, and painting.

Winter Landscape #9 (Fog) and Homage to 19th Century Painters

24" x 18"

oil on panel

8" x 10"

oil on canvas

These paintings comment on nineteenth century landscape painting like the Hudson River School. Painters like Thomas Cole and Asher B. Durand set out to depict the American landscape as new territory, untouched, close to God, and unique. Their outlook was optimistic, like Obama's vision for America in the face of crisis es including environmental.

Dark trees often contrast with luminous sky in these works. Foliage is very textural and heavy while the skies are smooth and light. The second painting is a smaller jpeg of the third to show the naturalistic illusion of the painting which can't be seen except by stepping back. Close up the texture reads that this is painting and illusion is secondary. A band of black defines the right edge while the left is allowed to be atmospheric, a tension that makes the eye scan back and forth.

Charles Darwin was active at about the time as the Hudson River School. The subject of Darwin, art and evolution was the focus of a recent Brian Lehrer Show. The book: The Art Instinct – Beauty, Pleasure and Human Evolution by Denis Dutton , editor of http://artsandlettersdaily.com was the impetus for the discussion and Dutton was the guest. The book's premise is that evolution, not culture, determine’s taste through natural selection. It is a Darwinian take on aesthetics. Dutton thinks that our early ancestors were imprinted with certain landscape views in their travels and that is what makes us respond to such views in art. It takes Joseph Cambell's ideas on art and Jung's collective unconscious further by connecting it with evolution. As a painter I find this fascinating but I don't plan on making any art deliberately tailored to exemplify it.

The Yale Center for British Art is featuring an exhibit on Darwin's influence on the visual arts titled "Endless Forms': Charles Darwin, Natural Science and the Visual Arts" which closes May 3, 2009.

Winter Landscape #8 (Blue Dots)

oil on canvas

52" x 30"
PRIVATE COLLECTION

I often see or think of things that make me smile. The dots will hopefully have that effect on you, especially while looking at the originals, where they might come into view unexpectedly. The dots sometimes seem surprising as you scan the surface. During a grad school crit, Nigel Rolfe remarked of my paintings, “the color wants to reward you.” This quality persists.

A comment (thanks, Rob) about the blurry but beautiful effect of seeing Christmas lights without glasses (for nearsightedness) is not off the mark. Christmas comes at the darkest time of the year and the lights we decorate with are attempts to restore some of the absent daylight. The light and color in my paintings also aim to lift spirits. The combinations of colors often make me smile as do a flock of birds turning in the wind, a patch of sun, pink toenail polish, and a dog whisker found while sweeping. This list is parallel to Rodger and Hammerstein’s My Favorite Things from The Sound of Music. Meant also to cheer one’s self, it funny that some of the lyrics include wild geese, the moon/sun, and kitten whiskers, not unlike my own favorite things. John Coltrane’s version (available to sample in I-Tunes) embodies the philosophy. In that way my paintings celebrate the silver lining.

On a similar note, in a The New York Times article Bruno Shultz, a Polish-Jewish artist killed in the Holocaust is heralded for creating paintings that help one "get through the long winter."

Window (Late Fall)

oil on panel

24" x 18"


I recently commented on Vermeer's View of Delft. Another thing, among many, I like about his paintings are the way he treated windows and light. He painted many domestic interiors including solitary women. The window is secondary to the figure, but it is the source of the beautiful light that tenderly illuminates the woman. Unlike Renoir who portrays women as ornamental (basically the only thing I like of his are the peaches which are as boobilicious as his nudes but not offensive to the feminist), it seems that Vermeer respected women. It is the difference between the derogatory term "soccer mom" and mentioning Michelle Obama's name.

This issue concerns me as a mother who is very domestic, shuffling between the studio and kitchen. I love both and don't like my mother/wife role to be dismissed as lesser than my husband's as breadwinner. In this context my vocation as an artist sometimes is perceived as a hobby, especially if the conversation turns to sales and other marketplace-based evaluation. Luckily it doesn't seem to happen as often as it used. Enough venting, I'll leave the rest to Whitney Chadwick who addresses gender roles and societal views in her book, Women, Art, and Society. To be fair, I've heard a musician say that people equate his profession with unemployment and an actor in New York City with waiting tables.

On the male experience of the home and workplace, I found out about an early telecommuter before the "tele". 2009 is the bicentennial of the birthday of Charles Darwin. A recent BBC program, In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg, focused on Darwin's domesticity. He lived in the country with his wife and children in a home where he based his laboratory and garden used for his experiments. Apparently this quiet setting and family support fostered his studies.

Domesticity is the back story to Window (Late Fall), another view from my bathroom window. The landscape, this rectangle, glows. It is like stained glass when fully illuminated by the brightest day. The landscape is far, based on its scale, but then it overtakes you as it presses forward into your space before receding again. The landscape is burned into my retina, seen in quiet moments between the laundry.

Winter Landscape #7, Sledding Hill and Beautiful Rochester Gray

24" x 18" and 8" x 10"
oil on panel

I heard someone say while looking at the Vermeer's View of Delft in the expansive exhibition at the National Gallery (11/1995 - 2/1996) artists must want to throw down their brushes when they see the accomplishment of this painting. I say we all have our own song to sing and painter/educator Robert Slutsky told me, "Those times are gone." He didn't mean that it is impossible to achieve excellence anymore, rather that the path to that excellence doesn't lie in a mirroring of past approaches.
I think what makes the View of Delft astonishing is its state of heightened awareness. The vision is hyper-real, conveying an acutely awakened state sensitive to the world. Seeing the real thing forces one's eyes to open widely like after being pinched. It is sad if you glance at the painting and seeing an old Dutch town, continue on, bored and indifferent. Don't do that! I got so worked up when two women walked by a small Rembrandt self-portrait (etching) that I told them to go back to see what they missed.

Notes on my work:

The top is another painting inspired by sledding. It is a clear winter day as opposed to the painting below. It has a deeper space than some of my other work and I got a bit obsessed with it, working the idea with a few watercolors in addition to this oil painting. I like the contrast between the treatment of the cloud and snow; although both white, they each feel like what they are. The loose handling of the trees convey their essence without getting caught in minutia.

Most people groan when talking about the cloudy, gray skies of Rochester, especially the natives. This painting focuses on the beauty of the grays which vary so much in weather conditions and offer endless possibilities. The title frames the idea as do the black edges.

The Wikipedia article on Vermeer says that he continued to use expensive paint through a financial crisis in Holland due to the support of a patron. Artists will have to find ways to continue in our times; here is a great article in Newsweek by Peter Plagen about where the art world has been and where it is now during the recession:


http://www.newsweek.com/id/185786/page/1

View from the Bathroom Window

12" x 12"

oil on panel

Art and the changes in the economy is addressed in a February 12th article by Holland Cotter in the NY Times, "The Boom is Over. Long Live the Art!" Cotter suggests that art often gets better when artists are left to do it for the sake of doing it, removed from any market driven pressures. He advises artists in this financial climate not to quit their day jobs.

I remember a children's book which exemplifies art's true value in society. Frederick is about a mouse who is a dreamer while all the other mice are working to prepare for winter. In the story (spoiler : ) Fredrick is able to tell stories of all he saw and imagined to the other mice while they were waiting for winter to end. While they were storing up provisions, he was immersing his senses, saving them for this collective sharing. I loved this book as a child and remember the colorful illustrations, often with round elements.

My paintings are bits of color and sensation stored up from the observed. Although I make them year-round, the ones made in winter are very much in keeping with the spirit of the book.

Notes on this painting:

It was done from the memory of looking out my bathroom window. The bright blues at the bottom were the color of the shadow of the house, the pale pinks, blues, and whites were the sparkling snow, and the top is the colors of the bare trees as well as some sky. I hope it buoy's you up while you wait for spring.

Winter Landscapes #5 and #6

both are 24" x 18"
oil on panel

These two paintings contrast stylistically enough that someone might think they were painted by two different artists. They make for an interesting comparison and contrast, although saying so makes me think of high school writing assignments, standards I'm not sure I can uphold at this point. I'll move along anyway.
The top painting, #5, is Expressionist in handling. After painting some more controlled pieces, it is nice to let loose. This was done at the end of a painting day, a memory of taking my son sledding at Highland Park in Rochester at twilight. I love that time of day because everything turns blue. The cobalt upper right corner is different from the more cerulean blue of the snow, but the colors make sense. The trees are somewhat anthropomorphic, seeming like a crowd of people with arms waving. They have a sureness about them, bold and planted despite the tilting slope.
#6 is curvaceous and crystalline, the qualities I like best about it. The shapely center is dictated by the trees. Large areas of clarity meet wood with edginess, saved for the edges. In #5, color is reflected but in #6 the snow is all white. The latter is more frontal & relies on gradation of blue light and contrast to make space while #5 is more atmospheric.
These experiences of looking, feeling, and painting are what I do. At my Unitarian Church, I listened to the beautiful music created by the choir after being told that this was their gift and to receive it as such. Painting here in relative obscurity, it is hard to know to what extent my art will be heard. It is kind of like those balloons people send out with messages to write if found. I came across this quote which I think is an impetus for much art-making.

Dag Hammarskjöld in his diary, Markings, wrote that “Only what you have given is salvaged from the nothing which will some day have been your life.”

The Neighbor's Shed

36" x 24"

oil on panel

Okay, you might notice this is a fall painting when we are in winter. I did an oil pastel of the view out one of my studio windows and this is a painting done from the drawing. I think the dots are kind of perky, not in a bubblegum snapping teenager way, but in a playful way. Rather than crunching leaves, one feels as if it is possible to bounce on the treetops like with moonboots. This playfulness is a quality that keeps the work, harkening back to Pointillism, from being dry and redundant. A fellow student in art school complained on our trips to the museum that it was "like going to a cemetery. It is full of dead art by dead artists." Perhaps some artists might agree, maybe those trying to find the cutting edge. For me the art is timeless while of its time, as full of life as Mozart is today.
The neighbors put up a new shed and it creeped into my work. The Post-Impressionists found Impressionism limiting because the short marks didn't lend themselves to clearly defining form. It was almost a focusing problem. Cezanne delineated form, but I think his bathers walked the line. I didn't want to make the thin trees out of dots and used line with dots weaving in and out of them. I see so many variations in the color of what I am looking at that I am not always content to make one or two stand for all, thus this pixelization. This painting makes me think of Pissarro, especially one at the Guggenheim, The Hermitage at Pontoise, where I studied how he handled paint. His work strikes me as quieter than a lot of the other Impressionists, a little less bang, but the paintings are very thoughtful, carefully and beautifully seen and made. If you check out this painting: Landscape at Chaponval, you can see what I admire about his treatment of houses in a landscape. I like the way they are nestled there, part of the patterning of the picture with the greenery coming in front of, behind, and through. Imagine what would have happened if he had heard rock 'n' roll?!

Winter on the Left, Spring on the Right

Winter on the Left, Spring on the Right, 24" x 18", oil on panel

From Norman's View, 12" x 12", oil on panel

While winter is in full swing here in Western New York and I am fully enjoying it, I confess to having one eye looking ahead to spring. Winter on the Left, Spring on the Right has that duality. The fairly symmetrical composition lends itself to the content. Earlier on in the painting the road was basically paved the same color as the sky. It fell short; the blue sky's compliment, orange, did the trick.

From Norman's View has that blend of what is seen and imagined. The invented, the synthetic can add zing. Picasso said, "Art is a lie." He meant that what is observed as it is in life may not have the right chemistry to turn into kicking art. Hollywood knows it well, as does advertising. Blue and orange also play opposing roles in this painting, creating tension, drama. Their intensity brackets the calm landscape.

This week I came across the work of artist Chris Cook from Georgia. I really like his landscapes which have a Milton Avery flair but are very original. He has a unique way of inventing space with shape and color. I especially like the unselfconsiousness in his portrayal of horses in Two Horses. I'm so excited that we might trade paintings!

I recently traded with artists Rita Baragona and Naomi Nemtzow. It is very encouraging and stimulating to have one's own work as well as the work of other artists in one's living space. Thanks, guys!

Winter Landscape #4

18" x 24"

oil on panel

The space is interesting in this one. The center area, which I often enjoy framing, is shapped by the two clusters of trees. The ones on the left are set back further, trunks ending at about one-third from the bottom, while the ones on the right go to the edge. This, in combination with the angles of the trees, create a diagonal tension, giving a feeling of the distance between the clusters. The space also works from front to back as the blue tracks lead to the center of the painting, although remaining fairly parallel, unlike the one point perspective exercise of the railroad tracks. Yellow lines on the left delineate an area, and one can sense space wrapping around behind the trees.

I like the blinding light of snow in winter and the colors I see in it, exaggerated here in the pink solid. Milton Avery reassures me that simple, color, and lyrical have their place next to an encapsulated shark.

Three Winter Watercolors

watercolors in Moleskin watercolor book

pages 16, 17, and 18

5" x 9"

I'll tell you what I enjoy about these (go ahead and call this a vanity blog, but are there any other kind? Besides, this is about artistic independence). I like the sense of scale in the first one with the little strip of land at the bottom. The bright blue rings out clearly, harmonizing with the other colors. The green edges suggest curtains or some kind of vegetation.

I am very interested in expansive space like where I live. The second picture has that openness, with the hint of a window frame or a camera viewfinder, distancing oneself from the cold and the elements. It is reflective of the no-stopping-it-now western quest to contain (and often possess) nature.

The daytime of deep winter has many variations of white and gray. Sometimes bright, sometimes dim, the snow often blindingly contrasts with the sky, forcing me to wear sunglasses while driving even though I'm craving the sun. White-out conditions blows the snow in every direction, blending the differences between up, down, and middle.

The third picture is about the sharp contrast of an overcast day without precipitation as viewed from an interior. The white and black are flat and bold while the gray has soft subtleties in color and paint handling, meeting with the snow in a line meant to convey the two substances.

My brother tells me it is eighty-one degrees in Ft. Lauderdale. He is keeping company with iguanas near the pool. It is enticing, but I would miss the grays. Alright, a few days might be nice...

Homage to Painting

oil on panel
20" x 16"

I saw some of my favorite paintings while walking through the permanent collection at the MOMA. Rothko, Agnes Martin, Lee Krasner; they're all so good. The paintings are made of color and light and create respite. On the edgier side there is DeKooning's Woman I, ferocious and so strong. I love Pollock's Gothic, especially his blue. Whatever is being expressed in an artwork, I respond mostly to art that is intense, like these. I want to see life squeezed into the canvas.
Homage to Painting came out of this museum experience (museums are NOT boring!). I had the impulse to lay flowers in front of the paintings, as I am so appreciative of the life lived, the achievement, the art that is passed on. The pictures are living testimonies to the artists who made them. The light and hope that emanates from them reminds me of the white paper of
Schindler's List that held the names of the people he was trying to save. The paintings save me.

Late Fall 2

oil on canvas

40" x 28"

More gumballs! Well, they're not really gumballs, but they do make me think of the game of guessing how many jelly beans are in a jar. The dots are compressed toward the picture plane, accentuating the surface of the canvas. The edging on three sides sets them back a bit, setting up a dialogue between in vs. out, the world of circles as opposed to something else.

Dots of fall treetops are layered on the bottom like piles of leaves while the second fourth of the painting shows the darker structure of bare trees. The third fourth is made up of blue and white (falling snow or cool air?), while the upper fourth is an attempt at the many varieties of crystalline blue there are no paints for (sigh). The height of the canvas compared to width is important as the circles are like bubbles. They have a good enough length to travel and convey their effervescence. When looking at the actual painting (I'm not sure it works in the jpeg) one's eyes dilate, getting lost in the movement, stimulated by the bouncing color.

For all the special effects computers offer in pixelization and making things random, less mechanical, more naturalistic, a computer could not make this painting. I work intuitively, sometimes impulsively, and sometimes calculated. I think the location and color of the dots (or other design elements I use in other pictures) end up conveying my personal energy and the feeling I am expressing. A friend's parent in 1989, when I was in high school and deciding to go to art school to study painting laughed at my decision, saying that computers would make all the art of the future. It is like saying we would happily accept the superiority of the machines we create. Our souls could give up, obsolete.

Resume and Artist's Statement

Resume

Education

1994 – 1996 University of Pennsylvania, MFA
1989 – Dec. 1993 Massachusetts College of Art, BFA

Solo Exhibitions

2008 Bowery Gallery, Chelsea, New York City, “Images of Optimism”

2007 Washington Art Association, Washington Depot, CT

2006 Bowery Gallery, Chelsea, New York City, "Sex, Death, and the Spirit"

2005 Rochester Contemporary, Rochester, NY, “Women and Bulls”

2005 Roberts Wesleyan College, Davison Gallery, Rochester, NY
"Expressing Christian Imagery"

2004 Bowery Gallery; Chelsea, New York City
"Feminist Icons: Paintings, Drawings, and Prints"

2003 Bowery Gallery; Chelsea, New York City
"Paintings in Response to Sept. 11th; The Stations of the Cross"
2003 St. Andrew's Lutheran Church; Easton, PA
"The Stations of the Cross"
2000 Printmaking Council of New Jersey, North Branch, NJ
Bowery Gallery; SoHo, New York City
1999 Villanova University, Villanova, PA
1999 Johnson and Johnson World Headquarters;
New Brunswick, NJ

Group Exhibitions

2008  Memorial Art Gallery Faculty Exhibition at The Gallery at One Bausch and Lomb Place, Rochester, NY

2007-2008  Rochester Contemporary (RoCo) Members Exhibition

2007 Massachusetts State House, Boston, MA, “Violence Transformed”

2006 Episcopal Church 75^th National Convention, Columbus, OH,  “Visual Preludes”

2005 RoCo, Rochester, NY, "Unbound - Artist's Books", Jurors: Elizabeth Switzer, 

Director, and Mary Giehl, Professor of Art, Syracuse University

2005 Bowery Gallery, Chelsea, New York City, "Drawings"

2004 Wright State University, "Drawing from Perception V", Dayton, OH
Juror: Charles Cajori, artist, former Professor of Art at the NY Studio School

2004 The Cathedral Basilica, Covington, KY, "Visions VIII",
International Juried Show, Juror: John Begley, Director of the Hite Art Institute, Univ. of Louisville, KY

2004 High Falls Gallery, Buffalo, NY
Curator: Sally Winslow, Director

2004 Upstream Gallery National Juried Show, "Small Works", Dobbs Ferry, NY

2004 HallsWalls Art Center, Buffalo, NY

2004 Bowery Gallery, Chelsea, New York City, "Small Works"

2001 - 2003 William Paterson University, Ben Shahn Galleries,Wayne, NJ
"Life With Pocket Change and Other Pleasures" artists' books
Curator: Nancy Einreinhofer, Director
2002 "NorthEast Prints 2002", Juror: Ms. Judith Hecker, Assistant Curator, Department of Prints and Illustrated Books, The Museum of Modern Art, New York, NY
2001 "NorthEast Prints 2001", Juror: Marilyn Symmes
Curator of Prints and Drawings, Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum, Smithsonian Institution, New York, NY.

2002 - 2003 Hunterdon Art Center; Clinton, NJ
46th and 47th Annual National Print Exhibition
Juror: Lisa Mackie, Master Printer, Professor At Stony Brook and N.Y.U.
2003 Bowery Gallery: Group Show
2002 Artists and the Art of the Book, Traveling to the following locations: The Banana Factory, Bethlehem, PA; Artists' Image Resource Inc., Pittsburgh, PA; Contemporary Museum of Design and Art, San Jose, Costa Rica; Spaces Gallery, Cleveland, OH; Mexico City; Costa Rica, Chicago, University of Kyoto, Japan; University of Gloucestershire, England
Curator: Curlee Raven Holton, Experimental Printmaking Institute
2002 Bowery Gallery: Five Painters
2002 Lafayette College, Grossman Gallery:
Faculty Exhibition 

2001 Art Association of Harrisburg; Harrisburg, PA
Juror: Susan Cross
Assistant Curator, Guggenheim Museum, New York
2001 Boston University, 808 Gallery
The Boston Printmakers, North American Print Biennial; Juror: David Kiehl, Curator of Prints at the Whitney Museum of American Art
2000 Mountain Art Show; Bernardsville, NJ
Juror: Eileen Foti, Printmaker, Professor at Rutgers University
2000 Mesa Arts Center; Mesa, AZ
Juror: John Armstrong, Master Printer
2000 Wayne Art Center; Wayne, PA; Juror: Barbara Grossman, Artist/Critic – NY Studio School, Chattaqua
2000 Makeready Press Gallery; Montclair, NJ
Juror: Sid Sachs, Gallery Director, University of the Arts
1999 Printmaking Council of New Jersey; North Branch, NJ
"Responding to Chinese Printmaking"
1999 Brookdale Community College; Lincroft, NJ Faculty Exhibition

1998 Monmouth Museum; Lincroft, NJ - Annual Juried Show
1997 Washington Art Association; Washington Depot, CT
"Young Talent Juried Show"
1995 Gallery 37; Summit, NJ; Steamroller Gallery; Frenchtown, NJ


Awards

2002 Ben Shahn Galleries, William Paterson University,
Purchase Award, Juror: Ms. Judith Hecker, Assistant Curator, Dept. of Prints and Illustrated Books, The Museum of Modern Art, New York, NY
2001 Harrisburg Art Association, 73rd Annual Juried Exhibition
Second Place, Juror: Susan Cross, Assistant Curator, Guggenheim Museum, NY
2001 New Jersey Medical Society Alliance Art Exhibition, First Place
2000 Mountain Art Show, Award of Excellence
2000 www.artadvocate.com, Curator's Choice
1996 University of Pennsylvania, Sewall Sillman Color Prize
1995 University of Pennsylvania, Angelo Savelli Painting Prize
1993 & 1994 Liquitex Excellence in Art Student Grant Competition 

Teaching Experience
2005 Memorial Art Gallery, Rochester, NY; Intermediate Painting; Beginning, Intermediate, & Life Drawing 

2005 Irondequoit High School, Rochester, NY; Visiting Artist

2001-2003 Lafayette College, Easton, PA – Visiting Professor of Fine Arts
Courses: Principles of Studio Art, Drawing I, II

1996 – 1998 Brookdale Community College, Lincroft, NJ 

Adjunct Professor of Fine Arts
Courses: Basic Design, Color Theory, Drawing I,
Art History: Renaissance through Contemporary
1997 Printmaking Council of New Jersey, North Branch, NJ
Silkscreen workshop for parents and children

Private and Public Collections

Lafayette College, Easton, PA

William Paterson University, Ben Shahn Galleries, Wayne, NJ

St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, New Orleans, LA

Numerous Private Collections

Monoprints! (#1, #2, #3)

monoprints

3" x 4" image size on Arches paper



In the history of art, many artists individually and collectively issued manifestos. The degree of relevancy these manifestos have to the actual art varies. Often there is a disclaimer written about an artist of a particular group that they were really doing their own thing. Reactionary as artists tend to be, many made this statement themselves, declaring they didn't believe in "isms", thus making their manifesto be about rejecting manifestos.

I have an artist's statement which is a kind of statement of purpose trying to put into words this ineffable activity I engage in. If I were to have a manifesto, however, it would be the poem, The Invitation, by a writer known as Oriah Mountain Dreamer. It is truly great. It is with her permission that her work is linked here. Please enjoy the monoprints and keep this poem in mind while viewing all my work, my life's work.

Pink Rectangle Landscape

24" x 18"

oil on panel

You may not think of driving a car when you look at this picture, yet it is influenced by the view I have as a motorist (other influences are the structures of windows and the theatre stage). I spend a lot of time driving through pastoral landscape. The road or highway cuts the the landscape centrally in my line of sight, as in a one-point perspective drawing. While I don't often paint that convergence but rather square it off, the middle remains, flanked by opposing elements. Just as one gets very set in the way one parts one's hair, I find myself drawn to do this repeatedly now; it is cemented in my brain and the picture doesn't look right and is unsatisfying otherwise. It is still too new to be a bad habit in need of breaking (besides, you try to change the way you part your hair). I think it is more a "given" and the experimentation will spring off of it, just as many modern artists used the grid (nifty link, by the way). I am very attracted to the way the central rectangle in this and most of my pictures with this composition can advance or recede. There is something important about the viewing experience of that shift. I think the painting pulses. A warm painting with golden monoliths, it affirms something unnameable but not unknowable.

Late Fall

oil on canvas
36" x 42"

The column filled with gumball-like multi-colored dots gets narrower on top, channeling movement. Optics are a big part of the painting, and I was inspired by an artist once criticized as being a big eye because of his almost scientific approach to color and light. Monet's poplar trees, came to mind to solve the compositional problem of tree trunks amidst leaves. The four vertical streaks of brown/maroon dots add another structural element, in harmony with the three main vertical sections of the painting. Despite the formalities, Monet's paintings aren't cool and unemotional, and neither are mine.

Two black rectangles are like black velvet curtains drawing back to reveal the magical center stage (as close to painting on velvet as I will ever get). They also can be seen as pressing on the center strip, like shorter days in winter and the down turn of the news vs. optimism. I resist letting the dark news be the focal point. I prefer to stay in the frame of mind (I love the at phrase, "frame of mind", like your thoughts fit in a frame, which mine can do, and then there is thinking outside the frame/box...) that Barrack Obama eloquently presented in his acceptance speech as President Elect, "While we breathe we hope." Those dots move as though effervescent, breathing, whimsically bubbling upward. There is blue-sky air, a purple tonality to the bottom, and a golden tonality in the center. The black is not flatly painted but has texture, and colors from underneath richly peak through, signs that it is permeable, vulnerable.

Yellow Sky

oil on panel

20" x 16"

The tropical feel and the red tree remind me of Gauguin. I love his Where do We Come From? What are we? Where are we going? masterpiece at the MFA Boston. He uses rich colors, sometimes bright. I think the sky and the sea in my painting feel somewhat translucent, a luminous blue with orange, the leaves airy, not stiff. Although the geometry is very rectilinear, it breathes. I like the suggestion of leaves on the dark tree on the left. That little triangle has gray marks that hint at what is on the other side, a defining limb curves, echoing the base of the tree. Such subtleties contribute to the impact of the image as a whole, but if a viewer lingers, they are there to be noticed.

Painting provides respite to maker and viewer. The artist is in the unique position of being both. I want to treat myself. I want to see color, space, and light hit my retina. I want to bask in these things.

Pastels!

Window, Twilight

Early Morning Fog

oil pastel

12" x 18" paper size

Marks can be very important elements in pastel drawings. Pastel paper usually comes with a tooth; the colored sticks drag across the surface in a particular way, clinging mainly to the raised surface. I don't like too bumpy a tooth, in fact, the paper I use is fairly smooth. I tend to have a heavy hand, layering the material thickly, but not completely evenly throughout the picture. Some areas have less, allowing for density changes expressing weight, air, the edges/solidity of things. The scale of these marks, their delivery, and the decision of what to make solid are some of the issues in this medium.

I never use chalk pastels because some of the pigments are carcinogens and the dust makes for easy exposure. Oil pastels bind the pigments tightly; gloves are all that's needed. I prefer Holbein oil pastels. Sennelier are beautiful, but they positively melt (not quite as much as R&F paintsticks, though, yummy as they are). Holbein are buttery, precious (vibrant, rich colors don't come cheap), but hold their form. I like them more than jewelry. Odion Redon probably thought his chalk pastels were jewel-like. He is much admired for his "crushed color".

This post is fairly techie for me, so let me say something about the works in particular. Window, Twilight is the view from my studio, tree tops as the sun is almost down. Early Morning Fog is my reward for excercising before the birds are awake. The blue fog and surrounding sky are quite remarkable here, and I don't think I fully captured them. I hope to try again in a painting. I like the boldness of these two pictures; they're not shy. They are energetic and unapologetically settled into themselves. Window and nature are one, a single view like an instant captured by a snapping shutter. Look closer and the material, the bits of pigment clinging to the paper and to itself, reveals the artist's hand, cement left by the mason.

Earth, Sky-Window

8" x 8"

oil on canvas

First impression: Anselm Keifer. The converging marks in this angsty landscape make use of perspective, creating a vast space. It has the scale of Keifer, but the actual size is a fraction of his enormous canvases. This 8" x 8" is small for me, but everything I do is small compared to his. Women artists in the past were told to "paint like a man" in attitude as well as scale. I'd like to think we're past that. I'm not a miniature painter and would never describe my small paintings as such, because it sounds diminutive, like they are supposed to be a small version of something else, when they really are themselves. Keifer's paintings are heroic and approach the size of theater scenery, although unwilling to leave center stage. I love his big paintings and I am glad they are the way they are, but I am happy with what I have.



I respond most to art with intensity, no matter the type of emotion. Keifer's work focuses on post-war Germany and it is nothing if not intense. Often people will hate a piece of art (this goes for any art form) not because it is poorly done, but because they hate what it expresses or because it makes them uncomfortable. As discomfort is a necessary part of challenging preconceptions, which a lot of artists like to do, a great deal of art thus makes people uncomfortable. During the Mapplethorpe controversy I wore a pin that said "Fear No Art". It was to the point; when people become afraid censorship isn't far behind.
Earth, Sky-Window isn't controversial, but it is intense. It is specific, but in a way that isn't easy to pin down, not easily named, which I like. I seem to be painting out of that place now, almost an anti-narrative. Still, the stage is set, implying there is a story after all.