Human Beings
Nudes, portraits and day-to-day.
I cannot imagine ever tiring of painting and drawing people, their shapes, sizes, positions, their myriad skin tones that co-exist in every ethnicity, the palettes of interior/exterior dualities. Loneliness is easily banished when I paint.
No longer dictated to by life drawing and painting class instructors, I stopped selecting the first three colors for new work, bypassing convention. I still, however, paint intuitively, not thinking about what my hand does, in part because I cannot see what's going on underneath it until inspiration drops me and I can step back and look. Whether or not I like the results, joy electrifies me upon experiencing new evolutions of my heart and spirit.
Forced to stop painting with brushes in 1993, my art began anew five years later with oil pastels layered onto paper with apple corers, butter and pie knives, fingers. In 2000, after swimming for nine months, I could paint standing up again, using oil sticks on canvas -- I flattened brushes . It never seemed to matter when the colors fell out of my hands, making unexpected marks on my support, often leading me into new directions. The size of my canvas grew as muscles formed and added more and more protection for nerves damaged in the car accident.
No longer dictated to by life drawing and painting class instructors, I stopped selecting the first three colors for new work, bypassing convention. I still, however, paint intuitively, not thinking about what my hand does, in part because I cannot see what's going on underneath it until inspiration drops me and I can step back and look. Whether or not I like the results, joy electrifies me upon experiencing new evolutions of my heart and spirit.
Forced to stop painting with brushes in 1993, my art began anew five years later with oil pastels layered onto paper with apple corers, butter and pie knives, fingers. In 2000, after swimming for nine months, I could paint standing up again, using oil sticks on canvas -- I flattened brushes . It never seemed to matter when the colors fell out of my hands, making unexpected marks on my support, often leading me into new directions. The size of my canvas grew as muscles formed and added more and more protection for nerves damaged in the car accident.