Unattached - and less is more

Unattached watercolor 9.5 x 13.5 Like so many people I have read about, I have been enormously taken with the notion of minimalism during the pandemic. Oh....I was already there, but to a lesser degree. At our house, we have been gradually reducing the collections of a lifetime: too many clothing items, too many dishes and casseroles (but I might need it sometime), too many garden pots and way too many tchotchkes. My work has aligned itself with the evolution of my belongings. I need less. For most of my artistic career, I have struggled with the notion of too many objects in the picture plane....chairs painted in, then painted out: still life paintings first painted as I see them, then gradually reduced to a couple of important relationships; shadows, interesting as they may be, were almost always eliminated. I am noticing the minimalism, more than ever, in my work. For me, the objects in the work become an interplay of subject (the tomatoes) and the ground (background). I am thrilled when these two notions interact in a series of rhythms. For the first time ever, I saw the reduction of my personal aesthetic needs reflected in this work. I was earlier satisfied. Done is done. But never say never....I have included a shadow in this one. Do I enjoy it? Not particularly.

Establishing a Rhythm

Majorette   oil/canvas   24 x 8 x .5

When I was a young girl, a little girl, I was in awe of Jan, a teenage girl who lived across the street in our little neighborhood of post-war brick cape cod homes in Akron, Ohio.  Jan was a twirler, a majorette, who practiced in her yard....her baton catching the light as it spun around, sometimes high into the sky.  She caught it deftly and continued her routine.  On game days, she emerged from her home in total regalia.  My memory of her costume has faded, but those heavy white leather boots with giant tassels are embedded in my mind. 

My own experience with baton twirling was short-lived.  I guess I just didn't "have it".  It may have been limited coordination, or, perhaps, interest.

This work of a drum majorette was inspired by a vintage photo of my husband's aunt....probably taken in the late 40's. 

Figurative work is my favorite.  For me, it has evolved into a sublimation of the facial features along with the placement of several focal points, established by choice, to lead the eye around the entire figure and its posture.  The regimentation of the twirler is reflected in her posed stance.  Discipline.

And the....there are those boots.

Some time ago, another astute artist picked up on my method at a local critique.  He was quick to point out the use of the multiple focal points.  We seem to love and to need a focal area in the work....why not several?  They actually create their own rhythm.

(The) Wood Pile

Wood Pile   oil on canvas   60 x 20 x 1.5

has been our best friend here in bitter-cold northeast Ohio this winter.  Throughout the late summer and autumn my husband carefully plans our "stash" and arranges it priority-wise by its seasoned past.  Large stashes of kindling are collected.  Because of our intimacy with our our wood, it became a lovely subject to me.  While, admittedly, painting stacks of things would probably be boring to some painters, I find the rhythms that abound and the individuality of the logs to be interesting and challenging.  "Wood Pile" is a slice of my life.  I offer it up.

Ebb and Flow

Ebb and Flow   oil on canvas   12 x 36 x .75

Painting the incoming surf of the ocean is quite a challenge.  The still life is, well, still.  Models are still for short periods of time...with perhaps a twitch or two, or a relaxation of a limb or two, for the most part.  And, despite the movement of the sun and the interference of clouds, landscapes are generally given to status.  However, the ocean never rests.  Capturing this movement, to me, requires a study of the large rhythm involved, and as much understanding as possible, of an up-and-over movement....similar perhaps to the rise and fall of the folds of a quilt, but far less material.  I was inspired by the rowing paintings of Thomas Eakins, as well as an ocean work by my hero Alex Kanevsky.  This work was painted in a day.  Sure....I was tempted to have another pass, but knew full well that subsequent strokes would only solidify shapes, turning them into cement.  I have held off now for over two weeks and the obsession is now past.  Contemplation is good.

The ocean never sleeps.

Working with what is Given

Mary in Polka Dots   oil/canvas   30 x 24 x .5

I frequently work from models. Most of the time this works out. I believe that you must find something about that person that is thrilling to you. In the case of "Mary in Polka Dots", I found the rhythm of her figure, with the long leg curling around to catch the support bar of the stool, to be intriguing. It also supported her figure....long and lithe....to aid in the composition. She represented completed freshness to me. It was a pleasure to paint her. I guess I see a metaphor here for life in general..........making the most of what is given to you. Painting helps me to understand all that is good.