Press
Artist statement for ancient wisdom
As a child, my happiest memories are of wandering the grounds of my grandparents’ farmhouse with no agenda other than to explore. The seasons and wildlife permeated their old country home. We bundled in the winters, and in the summers we let the breeze flow through the open windows, waking to the clattering of birds and ending the day to the hum of cicadas.
I longed for those weekend and summer days while back at my parents’ house in the suburbs with its air conditioning and a manicured lawn, inevitably spending more of my time indoors watching television or doing homework. As an adult, I have my own house in the suburbs complete with the comforts that continue to keep me separated from the world outside. Accustomed to the artificial air and light and the persistent sounds of household appliances, I hardly notice how my lifestyle of convenience creates a tightness in my chest and a restlessness in my being, until I allow myself to wander again around a nature center where I can breathe more deeply and feel my body relax.
My work as an artist is in many ways an attempt to return to those experiences of exploration that brought me joy and contentment as a child. There is an ancient wisdom to be found in nature if we slow down and take the time to observe it, lessons of balance and relationships relevant to this more modern life.
As part of my process, I spend time working outdoors observing and responding to the movement and energy of a given space. I continue that same energy in large paintings that are intended to envelop the viewer- realistic, but with enough abstraction so a person can get lost meditating on the interconnections of colors and shapes.
As I delve into my subject, I learn more about the natural world. Each painting of a bird teaches me how that particular animal is connected to its environment. I look to writers who so eloquently use words to record their experiences and knowledge, such as Aldo Leopold, John Muir, Fritjof Capra, and others. And, I learn what I can from local naturalists who teach me about the uniqueness of the lower Rio Grande Valley, its migratory birds and butterflies and diversity of plants.
Gathering knowledge I have come to appreciate the importance of our delicate ecosystems and feel great sadness at their ongoing demise. My hope is that these paintings make visible a world too often ignored. That in spending time following the ripples of water or finding a sparrow in a mess of mesquite leaves, viewers connect with the joy of observation, and are inspired to become stewards of this ancient land.
I longed for those weekend and summer days while back at my parents’ house in the suburbs with its air conditioning and a manicured lawn, inevitably spending more of my time indoors watching television or doing homework. As an adult, I have my own house in the suburbs complete with the comforts that continue to keep me separated from the world outside. Accustomed to the artificial air and light and the persistent sounds of household appliances, I hardly notice how my lifestyle of convenience creates a tightness in my chest and a restlessness in my being, until I allow myself to wander again around a nature center where I can breathe more deeply and feel my body relax.
My work as an artist is in many ways an attempt to return to those experiences of exploration that brought me joy and contentment as a child. There is an ancient wisdom to be found in nature if we slow down and take the time to observe it, lessons of balance and relationships relevant to this more modern life.
As part of my process, I spend time working outdoors observing and responding to the movement and energy of a given space. I continue that same energy in large paintings that are intended to envelop the viewer- realistic, but with enough abstraction so a person can get lost meditating on the interconnections of colors and shapes.
As I delve into my subject, I learn more about the natural world. Each painting of a bird teaches me how that particular animal is connected to its environment. I look to writers who so eloquently use words to record their experiences and knowledge, such as Aldo Leopold, John Muir, Fritjof Capra, and others. And, I learn what I can from local naturalists who teach me about the uniqueness of the lower Rio Grande Valley, its migratory birds and butterflies and diversity of plants.
Gathering knowledge I have come to appreciate the importance of our delicate ecosystems and feel great sadness at their ongoing demise. My hope is that these paintings make visible a world too often ignored. That in spending time following the ripples of water or finding a sparrow in a mess of mesquite leaves, viewers connect with the joy of observation, and are inspired to become stewards of this ancient land.