Arts Letters & Numbers ~ Wrapping It All Up

As I look back at my time at Arts Letters & Numbers, I needed this week away from normal life to expand my horizons both literally and figuratively. Feeling a bit cooped up in NYC, but being totally unaware of the fact, it was lovely to get into the space of Upstate New York countryside and meet new people and discuss new ideas.

Look how beautiful these organic eggs are ~ I've never seen naturally green, blue and pink ones before!

While it took me a while to find a groove with the outcomes of my paintings, the Arts Letters & Numbers residency allowed me the room to follow my circling trains of thought, explore painting processes and stretch my expectations for myself.

I've come away a bit calmer and assured that if I follow my instinct, it doesn't really matter what the outcome is because the larger connection between seemingly dissonant ideas is me.

On Sunday, I revealed my paintings for my fellow residents for their feedback and critique. And here's what I learned:

1. It's scary to put yourself out there to be judged. I was shaky trying to express my thoughts.

2. What people see in my work is how it makes them feel first and my messaging second. This was good news because it's what I'm going for!

3. They helped me to crystalize the words to say that this collection is about my emotions as they relate to the changing world as modeled through landscape. They are introspective, but not serene.

4. I've finalized the idea that this collection is "Nature, Muted" not the other way around. Because it's more than just neutral abstract landscapes. These paintings encapsulate my anxiety around not being able to fully see the landscape as societal trends are indifferent to its destruction. In this way, nature is itself muted, in that we can't hear it; and some don't want to hear it and are't interested in its preservation.

But while all of that seems heavy, the paintings themselves can be seen as sending that emotional message, or they can be something benign to behold. As always, I invite others' interpretations and emotions to surface about my work.

"Nature, Muted" paintings will be for sale on Wednesday June 14th (Flag Day!)

Arts Letters & Numbers ~ The Critique

Saturday evening saw a quick trip to the grocery store and a collaborative dinner effort between Dan and me to make homemade pizzas (him) and frozen butternut squash ravioli (me). Clearly it was not a fair trade. But we had a lovely time shooting the breeze in the kitchen all evening, and his pesto pizza was beyond.

After finally finding a rhythm in my painting that spoke to me (it only took 5 days and to the near end of my residency), it was time to pull everything I'd been working on together.

My sunny writing and coffee spot most mornings here at Arts Letters & Numbers

To recap, I'd initially started the week wanting to mute out formal landscape paintings to create soft abstracts. I went down that path and wasn't in love with what I was producing, so I turned to my back up project: penning (or painting) short words or phrases that kept bubbling up for me in moments of annoyance ~ with people, situations and really the overall feeling of society at this moment in history.

This got me thinking about all the ways in which we are angry right now, but in particular this week, the degradation and disregard for science and the environment which is clearly being trumpeted from the top down. Really, what the hell? It's truly beyond comprehension for me and so many others that the importance of nature and science is paramount to the rest of our lives.

I've always felt a deep connection with the outdoors growing up in the woods. I've never been one for camping but just being outside is enough to make me feel bright and shiny and happy.

So as I started to look at the body of work I'd created over the past week, I saw some commonality amongst the chaos. While yes, this has been a time of transition for me and for all of us, we must consider what our message is and how we communicate that effectively.

What truly cuts more to the heart of it is an underlying angst about the ideas and policies that have seemingly been foisted upon us without our consent.

As I wrap it all together, I see this body of work that I've created this week as a statement of the FRUSTRATION I'm feeling and witnessing around me. Frustration at the slow (or maybe rapid?) destruction of the environment and the words and phrases that bounce around my head in annoyance.

Does that all make sense? Well one would see...

Morning on the front porch

Dispatches From Arts Letters & Numbers ~ Friday & Saturday

If Thursday was paint paint paint, Friday was no painting whatsoever. Still feeling unsure of my themes and how my disparate painting styles would form a cohesive idea, I napped on it a bit and then jumped into helping out in the kitchen in preparation for a swing concert being held at the house Friday evening.

Frida and I made potato birds nests (easier said than done...peel and spiralize potatoes and sweet potatoes, saute in olive oil, form into tiny "nests" on parchment lined muffin tins, take out when just crispy but not burnt) with mushroom compote and homemade pesto topping. They turned out really yummy, and with a spiralizer, would be easy to replicate (although not quickly).

The swing/jazz band that came to play was really fun and brought a following of swing dancers with them. A true party atmosphere with at least 30 people at any given time. I listened and hung out for a while but when I headed up to bed at 11pm, the party was still going strong!

Saturday morning saw a house so full of people that all three bathrooms seemed to be continually occupied. Some of the band members and friends of the other residents had spent the night (have no idea where!) and we were bursting at the seams with friendly morning chatter over bacon and coffee.

As people started to dissipate throughout the morning, I set up my painting camp in the kitchen. My plan was to lay down some neutral base tones of grey and white with a palette knife, on which I would layer my landscape paintings (assuming it might be warm enough to paint outside, which it was not).

With the first pass though, I liked the base layer so much that I forced myself to stop there (sometimes knowing when to stop is so difficult; Should I keep going? I don't know, I like it now. But maybe it could be better? But what if you mess it up? etc etc etc).

So as I created base after base, they each became slightly more of their own abstract landscape painting with added details and more neutral colors (think tan, black and olive). Finally something was resonating!!

I came into the week thinking about muted landscapes...and that's exactly where I ended up. But not in the way I thought I would get there. I had a vision of painting outdoors, creating detailed landscapes and then covering them up with soft thin layers of watery whites and greys to create a misty abstraction. When in fact, I needed a more direct approach: start with a limited color palette, the broad sweeps of a palette knife (as opposed to tiny brushstrokes), and a freedom of form to push the paint around with the movement of my hand, arm and whole body.

So is there where I end up? Not quite....