From the lakeside studio I am drawn into nature and inspired. Such beauty, light, and wonder leave me humbled. And yet, as I take the inspiration of the landscape and begin to paint, it is not simple beauty that emerges. My act of painting pushes me beyond the lovely, the easy. Just as nature destroys itself to be reborn, my work undergoes a similar natural process of evolution, death, and rebirth.
I am inspired by the marvel of nature such as the shining sunset reflecting in the water so I capture that image in my mind and start painting the water reflection. Once the background of the painting is completed I begin to disrupt that cherished place by meticulously painting a woven structure. I paint the lines very close together so that the background can not breathe and then at another time I leave sections open, or scrape back the lines to disrupt the weave. The tightness of the weave leaves me on the outside of the web, barely able to see the landscape underneath. The land becomes suffocated and can not breathe. In another painting the intersecting lines split open to larger passageways and the background begins to come to the foreground and I see glimpses of the scenery. There are times when I actually use threads of different thicknesses so will create a woven structure directly onto the surface of the landscape. When the woven structure is completed, I paint over and bury those threads. The need to disturb the painting begins so I pull each line of thread out of the wax. Once the threads are removed only the crevices of intersecting lines remains. While immersing myself in painting these woven structures, I think of systems of identity in terms of weavings as coverings to protect or to hide. The intersecting lines creating an internal conversation versus the external between nature vs. nurture. Or how actual or psychological barriers erected in an environment can disrupt a cherished place. My engagement with the woven structures over the years speak to complex dialogues between identity and psychological barriers.
I am inspired by the marvel of nature such as the shining sunset reflecting in the water so I capture that image in my mind and start painting the water reflection. Once the background of the painting is completed I begin to disrupt that cherished place by meticulously painting a woven structure. I paint the lines very close together so that the background can not breathe and then at another time I leave sections open, or scrape back the lines to disrupt the weave. The tightness of the weave leaves me on the outside of the web, barely able to see the landscape underneath. The land becomes suffocated and can not breathe. In another painting the intersecting lines split open to larger passageways and the background begins to come to the foreground and I see glimpses of the scenery. There are times when I actually use threads of different thicknesses so will create a woven structure directly onto the surface of the landscape. When the woven structure is completed, I paint over and bury those threads. The need to disturb the painting begins so I pull each line of thread out of the wax. Once the threads are removed only the crevices of intersecting lines remains. While immersing myself in painting these woven structures, I think of systems of identity in terms of weavings as coverings to protect or to hide. The intersecting lines creating an internal conversation versus the external between nature vs. nurture. Or how actual or psychological barriers erected in an environment can disrupt a cherished place. My engagement with the woven structures over the years speak to complex dialogues between identity and psychological barriers.
