I just sent off five new works to the Bowersock Gallery in Provincetown, MA. Having deadlines, even if self-imposed, keeps me focused and in check in the studio.
Some whimsical, some ethereal, some exploring a curiosity...
I have been so grateful to have had the carrot of a deadline to work towards - it focused my creativity within this time of uncertainty, which has certainly affected my work, however subtly. The two assemblage pieces at the beginning of this post came after the Black Lives Matter protests/movement began...and the "poem" I wrote (after the works were completed) when the devastating fires in the Catalina Mountains began on June 5th from a lightning strike...and which continues to burn today. Predictions are that they will until our monsoon rains come, perhaps in another 10-14 days.. Such a visceral metaphor for all that is happening socially and politically...
The sky and all it's mysteries continue to inspire me~
I've been reading books about Alexander Von Humboldt. He carried a cyanometer with him as he scaled the highest peaks of the Andes in 1801-03. At the time, the shift in value of blue was still mysterious to scientists...
I release the science behind it and inhabit the mystery.
"Breathing Under Water" was started a month ago in reaction to a soundscape recording by two talented Tucson friends of mine, Will Clipman and RC Nakai...specifically Tank Journey #3. (You can listen to their mesmerizing music at https://tanksounds.org/r-carlos-nakai-and-will-clipman/ Consider listening to that track while looking at my painting.)
The painting emanated from my poetic response. For me, the image truly expresses not a hiding place from tumult, but a shelter that is protective and safe: the place of peace and quietude that I inhabit within which embodies both light and darkness.
We are fortunate and blessed to be breathing, both physically and spiritually. It is essential for us to breathe and live peace, especially now, holding ground in love.
These other works were also recently completed within the last 12 months. Still enamored with the depth of space, these intimate landscapes are secured in burned vintage jewelry boxes. My distress at our disregard for the environment in the name of progress triggered these works.
Gaia, our planetary jewel that hosts life, is polluted and burned without regard to future generations. Henry David Thoreau, in his distress at "progress" in the 1840s, exclaimed that "at least the sky is safe!"
Of course we know that isn't true, but looking to the sky reminds me how fragile life is~
