Today, for the last night of my brief trip, I have agreed to plans to meet with my husband. I feel like a hen standing firmly in a roadway confronting a car head on.
(Important note: he doesn’t read my blog- I don’t think he ever has- and if he does now—well, consider this a test. R- if you read this, tell me!)
5 X 7 ACRYLIC PAINT ON THICK ARCHES PAPER
Last night I had to write a brief statement answering a question about what made my art unique. I said something like, “I paint my life and what I see around me’. What hokum! I don’t paint my life around me! Who has ever really seen a chicken confront a car while crossing a road? Who has seen a yellow sheet cake on the lawn of a Victorian mansion? These aren’t scenes I have sat in front of. I paint, I guess to say more accurately, “a narrative story in symbols of my daily experiences”. Does that make sense?
Often my paintings don’t make sense to me until hindsight. In the process the images manifest as if I were experiencing lucid dreaming. All of it records my life. It places me in time and a location. Look at my “We Are Lost” of 2007-8, painted leaf on map- that was when we were going to move away to Buenos Aires, and then we didn’t and I was confused about where we were, if we were staying or going, and where we were supposed to be.
Then in August 08- I painted Two Weeks- when the discussion of marriage counseling was firmly refused, I was thinking the marriage was over.
In September I placed the hen alone in her own box, framed by colorful maps, Destiny Unknown. That was a self-portrait. Not all of it is anthropomorph-sizing fowl. Look at this summer’s Still life with String- that was the day my uncle Freddy died.
So it’s all about my life, my family, and what I see around me…
Does that make my art unique?
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