Abstraction is like composing a poem that doesn’t rhyme or captures intuition more than likeness. It paints itself sometimes. I am there to bring something home to the chaos, the unpredictable beauty of intended marks or the pulse of a form. Ironically I find abstraction, definite, yet free, sharply telling, rarely blurred.
Innuendo, visual metaphor and notions of desire interest me within the process of painting.
Objects that appear in my work are there because they are beautiful to paint or exude meaning beyond what they are. Amid the appeal of the paint itself, the object can be intriguing, pushing subtle meaning or personifying our most vulnerable selves.
A split fig is a fig until you recall a time your heart opened the same way, aching to be loved. Roses are lusciously red, but also metaphor to love, to nostalgia, to the irony of fragile strength or soft endurance. A marble is just a glass plaything until one picks up on the power of the circle or the infinity of the orb within the cosmos. |
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Mary Linnea Vaughan and Buddy. |
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