My artistic practice goes in three different directions. During the warm months I paint small (on average 28” x 34”) plein air-like, oil on canvas paintings, on site usually in Central Park. Although I don’t think of myself as a political artist, in the studio, I make large (48” x 96”), sustained color pencil studies depicting current events: expressing my angst, protest and sense of helplessness to control what is happening politically around me. It is important to say I strongly identify with each figure within the hundreds that I draw, empathizing and identifying with their vulnerability. Thirdly, for the rest of my time in the studio, I create large and small figurative paintings from memory and imagination, incidents, and events from my personal life. All three practices are equally important, and for years I have been curious as to how they would eventually merge into one cohesive, focused direction, but the opposite seems truer. They each remain separate and essential for me to pursue independently. The figure remains central because my work is autobiographical.
I am applying with my plein air because it will be warm weather, and although I am painting from life, I know they are not exactly landscapes. When outdoors, I paint with an imperative and urgency and am driven by the pressure of time dictated by light and energy. I’m interested in conveying deeper emotion using light, shape, color, and flatness.
My work is like the rudder, controlling the vertical axis, stabilizing the forward movement of my adventure. Navigating this ocean is my task through enormously complex emotional challenges. It is thrilling, invigorating, and so rewarding if stability is maintained. I accept that lying on my back and just floating is sometimes necessary. I am grateful to paint pictures, make drawings that I am unable to put into words; feelings and memories I am unable to speak of; ideas and thoughts that I can experiment with on canvas or paper where only I decide what is important. Grateful to make pictures where any art lover could relate and recognize their own experiences. It is an unpredictable, enigmatic ride making art where taking risks is routine and seeing your feelings made tangible is not always what you want. The voyage is to accept as much as possible and lean deep into the ocean to stir your emotions enough to imagine. Spring arrives and I get my grocery cart and fill it with my homasote boards, my wooden palette, and paints, walk to the park and paint voraciously until the cool air coaxes me back indoors. Painting is hard work yet a celebratory experience. I want to paint everything; parties, ice skating, snow sledding, funerals, weddings, walks in the park, family gathering, romance, tragedies. Working in three directions is self-sustaining, allowing me an unrestrained freedom to experiment with different materials, sizes, palettes expanding and deepening what I need.