Rubbed Down Into a Fine Veil of Color

My paintings are not about surface, they are about depth.  They are not about defining, they are about leaving open a space for interpretation.  They don't give answers, they ask questions.  And they are not machine made.

A frequent comment to me is that my paintings look like a giclee--an ink jet printed COPY of an original.  Absent in my works are the brushstrokes and textural elements of what people attribute to oil painting.  I rub that all away.  I thin my paint and layer my paint to create the spaces that transport a viewer into the nuances of color.  Texture is a distraction to this journey--as is line.  And yet, the precious handling of my surface and the almost perfection of the plane leads some to believe that a machine created it.  Not a defense I like to have to attend to when talking about my work.  Fine rubbed down into a veil of color should be an appreciation of my technical skill and less a comparison to an inexpensive reproduction.

But, people want to see that remnant of handmadeness because that equates to --what--originality, I guess.   And yet, they don't want to pay for it.  I don't make giclees of my work.  There is no way to photographically capture the subtleties in my paintings, and therefore no way to accurately reproduce my work.  An irony in this whole dialogue.

See here for another post on this painting.

A Glow Perpetuating Itself Into The Memory, 36 x 36 in oil on canvas

A Will Cotton Moment-Minus the Nude

Nearly finished (top)
48 x 48 in oil on canvas

Cotton Candy Katy, Will Cotton, 72 x 84 inches

I'm continuing my work on a series of large scale cloud paintings.  Today's effort found me in a sherbert palette unlike anything I've ever encountered on my canvas before.  The warm Alizarin Yellow with a Quinacridone created this cotton candy color and suddenly I was transported into a Will Cotton candy landscape--not so much the intention.   Rather, I'd been thinking about how my meditation on a particular poem usually resides only as an aside to the viewer--a part of the title tag at the exhibit.   This painting represented a bit of a departure for me in that I scripted the poem onto the canvas and used the shapes of the words and the markings to form the folds in the clouds.  Words, data, thoughts, feelings, impressions-- in the cloud.  I'm concerned about not losing too much of the pentimento of the poem--love the idea that it's under there.

A Sense of Scale

Source: annawolf.com via Sharon on Pinterest

At right, my painting, Cumulus Umber (50 x 70 in, oil on canvas, 2012)  photographed with a Mies Barcelona style bench--which is 6 feet long.  Still feels a bit sterile, but does give the online viewer of my works a sense of scale.   At left, an interior from pinterest that I think this painting is perfect for!