My artistic process begins with a deliberate openness to and awareness of the visual world. When I experience an emotional reaction to something I see in the woods or along the ocean’s shore, I know I have discovered an image that holds meaning for me. I often do not understand exactly why the form I see resonates so intensely, but I follow my emotional response.
As I explore the visual potential of the form in two dimensions, I am always delighted by the first moment of recognition: suddenly, the reason for my initial reaction becomes apparent to me. The result of my response to the form unfurls on the canvas or paper, revealing the source of its inspiration. The entire creative process enables me to decipher, through form and image, the layers of reality at work beneath the surface of my consciousness.
By removing the objects from their natural context and arranging them in a new environment, I allow them to develop new associations. The simplicity of my compositions emphasizes the way the organic forms interact with each other and the space around them. Separated from their origins and presented without distraction, I can focus on the individual objects, and appreciate them not only for what they are, but for what they might represent. Each branch reveals curves, bends, bumps and scars that express its unique character. A vine twists and wraps itself around a branch, a path through space. A shell begins to show signs of wear, as tiny cracks and fractures emerge, interrupting its perfect spiral. A seed holds the potential of an individual, as it suggests immeasurable possibilities.
Moon Shells
The unblemished moon shell is round and smooth with delicate grooves built around a spiral structure. It begins life as an egg embedded in the sand, emerging to swim briefly in the shallow waters before settling to the bottom of the sea.
The hard encasing protects the living organism inside as it plows through the sands, gets tossed by the waves and pulled by the tides. The sea heaves the moon shell against the rocks. Seagulls pluck the shell from the coast, discarding the empty casing back onto the shore. Eventually the shell begins to show signs of wear, as tiny cracks and fractures emerge.
These scars interrupt the perfect spiral of the moon shell. The once completely protected inner chamber can now be glimpsed. Through the small holes and narrow fissures is a dark, mysterious space. Larger gaps and crevices reveal the vulnerable insides until, eventually, the shell is so broken that there seems to be little that distinguishes the outer shell from the inside it once sheltered.
The Moon Shell drawings emerged during the time I was pregnant with my son. I was thinking about his home inside my body, and about my hope to provide a safe environment for him to grow. I wondered if my imperfect physical and psychological self really had everything it took to create a healthy space to nurture him. Those concerns have evolved to questions about our family, our home, our world. It is all fractured, broken, imperfect.
Dodder
When I first discovered a patch of dodder vine wrapping around dried stalks of flowers, I was fascinated by the tiny clusters of seeds and the graceful tangle of vines. My initial response was visual – I wanted to paint it. This is my first body of oil paintings since becoming a mother, and as I explored this intricate, delicate, and tenacious plant, I began to feel an affinity for the host. As a mother, I now stand strong and sturdy like the stalk of the host, while the dodder, with almost no chlorophyll of its own, holds on tight. The tiny tendril can only grow with the nurturance and support of the host.
I present these entities for consideration, like portraits. Each stem, vine, and seed cluster together represents a life. I keep my grounds minimal so that we can contemplate each life as it carves its path through the world. Sometimes there is one. Sometimes there is more than one. I hope that they will be considered knowing that there are more, perhaps on the same canvas, perhaps on another canvas. There is the possibility of a relationship between these isolated, independent, and sometimes solitary, beings. The space around each dodder becomes charged with potential, just as the seeds of the plant hold the potential for new life.
Beech Leaves
In the Beech Leaves series, I present these natural forms as representatives of our human experience. These paintings and drawings grew out of the COVID pandemic, as an exploration into the notion of a “pandemic pod.” Many of us spent months isolated, with a just a few select people.
This body of work presents relationships of small, isolated groups, that I hope will resonate as we recognize and process how our own connections may have changed during this time. Some relationships, out of necessity, may have had to drift, while others may have become more intense. Some may be marked by distance and longing, or come into clearer focus, as we have taken a close look at who is with us, both physically and emotionally. The Beech Leaves are ultimately about the relationships that have sustained us, the people with whom we created our protected reality, and with whom we have moved forward.
