There is something about feeling that rightness of a painting when I’m 75 that feels so very satisfying.
Evidence of deconstructing form and then “healing” those breaks was apparent in the yellow and pink adhesive substrates bleeding through the crevasses of incisions.
The alchemy of using a fragment of a scan of parsley to represent a forest was a revelation.
The readmission of artists like Grant Wood into high art discourses may open the door to many more types of representation, inclusive of many more places, lives, and subjectivities.
The woman and man are eternally bound in a psychopathologically perverse interpretation of yin and yang.
One man is found pulling leaves from a stem, as if counting down time. Another man stares longingly at a pile of petals.
Its minimal linear elements raced around the side of the canvas and played with my expectations of where paint would normally be.
“Less is less, and more is more. No more, no less.”
To my eyes, this is a love letter to the maternal archetype—the maternal ideal.
Then there is the color itself – the purity of color and the psychological effects that pure color can have not only on the eye, but also on one’s emotional states and well-being.
I like thinking, though, that the painting makes a complete body out of dispersed heterogeneous parts, a complicated body constrained and subdivided by guardrails, pedestals, canvas edges, bowler hats and neckties.
… she only painted the parts of her body that she could physically feel in the moment…