“The artist’s life nourishes itself on the particular, the concrete…” -SP

There roams, lately, an elephant on my canvas.  With the elephant, walks the duck, seen or unseen.  It was in the basement of my education at Rhode Island School of Design that I honed my identification with the elephant and learned that death does not signify the end of friendship, nor even nix the inception of intimacy.

The human body is another subject of late.  Typically with eyes closed or eyes concealed from the viewer, these bodies speak to me of sleep and rest.  Although they are not all in sleeping postures, the nudes maintain a silence and steadfastness of form distinct from the more jutting elements in my work.

I am drawn to the imagery of childhood for similar reasons of seeking visual comfort for myself as well as the viewer.  The faultfinding gaze I approach my artwork with is nonexistent in my observation of and interaction with children.  So, perhaps my child-sensibilities reflect a deeper inner struggle to be more accepting of my work, and thereby- myself.

I completed my education at Rhode Island School of Design thoroughly frustrated by the lack of instruction coupled with the narrow-mindedness of the Painting and Art History faculty.  Fortunately, I also left with a deeper understanding and appreciation of poetry, due primarily to three gifted English professors who I still keep in contact with.  Even more important to me are the lasting friendships & love I gained in people I might have never known were it not for the roundup of ‘weirdoes’ that art schools seem to produce.

After school, I found myself not surrounded by the oceanside familiarities of my upbringing, but in the dark woods I had wondered at but mostly feared all my life.  The Wintus and drunken coyotes terrorize the little girl in me but fortify the larger person that I am.  My approach to art has remained pretty steady over the years, despite the geographical leaps.  I use it to question and honor my calling, my caller.  I use it to get frighteningly close to the source of synchronicity & miracles, and closer still to the little duckling that went before me.

 

 

back