Exploring the Why
Time and the progression of the seasons has been the subject of my art practice from the beginning. Nature reminds us in ways big and small that nothing is static, nothing is still. The gray dry branches of winter trees suddenly have a barely perceptible halo of lime green as spring begins to unfold. Suddenly is the operative word here. All change happens in unseen increments. We perceive change when it makes itself known with a moment of revelation. It is these moments of revelation that inspire my work.
It seems the repetitive cadence of seasons is infinite, yet each of us is only privy to a finite number of these seasonal cycles. I am acutely aware, as I experience my seventh decade, that the number of moments of revelation I have left to experience is diminishing. Scarcity places a higher value on all that we love. My awareness of the passage of time, how it manifests in the landscape, what it means to us individually and universally, is the broad subject of my work.
Every painting in this body of work explores a moment, a revelation, that is precious and finite. This exhibition is entitled Love That Well , taken from the last line of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73: “Love that well which thou must leave ere long.” Whether it is a particular view from a studio window, a moment in the landscape, a season, memory, sunset, or something endangered, my practice is to discover it, explore it, and bring it to a place that resonates with me both visually and spiritually. I succeed when the image connects with you, the viewer. I work in series, connecting the paintings in a body of work as a song writer might connect songs in an album.
Painting With Fire
A glimpse into my studio gives the impression I am working alone: I am not. Books of poetry and art line my bookshelves, and music plays, making it a crowded space. When working on a series of paintings I create a specific playlist to inspire me. Poems and visual images by other artists I study line my studio walls. The voices of my many teachers chatter as I work. These are my muses, connecting me to my sub-conscious mind, and through a long process of adding and subtracting hot pigmented wax, I find the finished image.
Find is an important word in my process. I start with a found visual image: a photo I have taken in the landscape that speaks to me and has the seeds of the content I am hoping to express. I never intend the finished painting to replicate this image—it only provides me with inspiration, a place to start the exploration. I then begin applying hot colored wax in layers, each layer fused to the next with my butane torch. I use my torch as a paintbrush. When the wax cools, I scrape back the layers, excavating to find colors and textures to be brought back to the surface. What I remove is as important as what I add. I work this way for a week, two weeks, sometimes a month until the image is realized. Often the paintings I have the longest conversations with, the ones that seem like they are never going to get where I want them to go, are the paintings I feel best about. This conversation, this back and forth, this process to “find” the image requires trust in my sub-conscious mind and is at the core of what I do.