Yesterday, I got down to business. There are new waves, and new emotions and as a result new color schemes, pallettes and subject matter taking place in my art. I recognize some familiar themes from the past: like roses, flowers, and the types of greens and mauves I am combining with these bright reds, and sometimes magenta.
Susan Seddon Boulet used to compose red works that were very colorful. There is a new wind travelling through my work, right at the onset of spring. Whether because spring is on the way, or because winter has been just too long and kicked my maximus this year.
I want to write about chaos and an artist’s space. While as an artist, I am often very deliberate and organized it is by no means the way I have always been. The subjects and themes I decide on, have resulted from dealing with the obstacle of communication. Communication is a two-way street dependent on context and audience. It’s actually quite a mysterious thing that we are able to really do it at all. Everytime someone repeats something you have spoken, demonstrated, written, or drawn is really the only way you know that communciation has taken place. You might never know for certain whether or not you have communicated.
Communication also takes place through antonyms and sometimes reinterpretation of messaging. Someone might turn something so beautiful you have composed, and reflect it back to you in the darkest, most unfamiliar way. Still, communication has taken place, albeit reflected through a glass dark.
I began my new explorations in red earlier in the week with a return to my floral obsession - real life roses, floral carpets, bright saturated color. So saturated in fact, that I leave the shadows undiluted. I found the red moving into my cascarone eggs, and then on into the floral carpets that resulted from the dozen red roses I used as models, and placed around my space. There’s something about red rose petals on snow. I was missing Monterey, California where I called home for almost four years; as a result I used some eucalyptus leaves in one of the compositions.
Finally, I had a very Susan Seddon Boulet/What Dreams May Come film vision going through my head. I gave it a try with the technique I used in Husband and the Trolls. I’m over the Payne’s gray etching ink though. I stored away the whole thing; all explorations are useful. The study helped me realize what was and wasn't working. I had to get rid of all of that black. I focused in on the feeling, which I come to understand through color. I pulled out red, red, red, red. On top of the red I tried the very natural spring greens I gravitate to, and mauve - pretty much the greatest hue in all of nature. Together, the red, greens, sea green, mauve, and lavendars say exactly somehow what it is I’m trying to say.
My place was a mess! I got into crayons, oil pastels, I had a towel on the carpet that the dog got himself onto cozy, a cup of vanilla-orange-zest-honey coffee, tissue paper, and even gouache. You know changes are going on when you have to tear apart the method and comfort of your previous familiarities in order to get to a new one. I finally understand the attraction to these red paintings, composed in just the right way a new breeze of color just makes my heart glow. I guess I’m just an emanation of spring, because a few months ago I was dying out on a black beach in Husband and the Trolls. The sun is yellower these post-mid-winter these days. The clouds billow higher, and around four o’clock it’s almost bearable.
Ah, Monterey, CA how I miss your poppy, lupine, oxalis, and ice-plant. Let’s get together sometime soon. Thanks to all of the interdependent things which have come together to bring about this change in my work, and the new work itself!
Note to self:
What I need to do is find some red etching ink at some point.
PS Red is a strong color. I wonder how long I will be in this pallette.
PSS It's lovely when the moment arrives when one stops applying causes, becauses and reasoning, and can j-u-s-t feel.