The Small Things - The Landscapes

The Small Things, my landscape series, is really all about mood. I needed to release whatever was in the way of me being able to relax and be present. Mood for me is a color, hence the limited palette pieces.

Emotions are big things. Sometimes, they make us feel small. But even small things have power, grace, and purpose. In the expanse of the wild landscapes I paint, there is always something small in it that is holding its own there. Watching, flying trough, passing by, standing strong. Something that is not intimidated by the big space (read ‘mood’) around it. I’m not sure that the small things are really me, but more what I want to be in those big emotions. On canvas, it’s a reminder that it’s possible to find strength or rest in big emotions by letting it surround you and wash over you. Feel it, then find the way to move through it.

Hopefully, The Small Things will help you find your way in the big moods, too.

The Giants - The Florals

The Giants, my closeup floral series, was about moving out of my comfort zone. I had already painted Bane of My Existence, the closeup of a red rose, on a small-ish round canvas. My mother liked the closeup of the flower but wasn’t a fan of red roses and dark colors. She asked if I would do a white magnolia for her, but huge. She wanted it to fill a wall in her guest room. I measured the space and it needed to be 3 feet by 3 feet.

Here’s the thing: I hadn’t done a floral like that before, much less one that big where any mistakes or weakness in talent would be in your face. But, I’m a good daughter, and what Mom wants, Mom gets.

I was stunned as the painting came to life. The large sweeping strokes were almost like doing yoga or tai chi. It was soothing. And the intricate magnolia stamen required so much focus that my mind had nowhere else it could go. The intimidating piece was actually at least as meditative as the mood-driven landscapes.

And so, once Magnolia Opening was finished, I began to seek out other flowers that could provide the same meditative experience for me. Being a southern girl, my eye naturally hovered around the flowers in my Tennessee landscape. Daffodils, snapdragons, even an okra flower in my own vegetable garden. Being originally from south Louisiana, I grow it for making gumbo, hence the title of that piece.

Painting The Giants has moved me from someone who was intimidated by the exposure that comes from doing a closeup in large scale to someone who now sees it as an exploration of the details Nature hides away and only reveals to those who stop and look closely for them. And, it’s become a very physically relaxing thing to do, too. I can lose myself for hours in painting details, but my favorite part is the large sweeping paint strokes of the petals.

Hopefully, The Giants will inspire you to bend a little closer to the flowers you pass by and see what magic Nature holds there.

The Mount Hope Cemetery Collection

This series was unexpected. It was never something I set out to do. I wasn’t even sure if I could do it. Abstracts, organic or otherwise, weren’t my thing at all. Right? Well….. Turns out they are, as long as I let the canvas tell me what to do. When I try to be the boss, it’s a disaster. The canvas knows what needs to happen. Or perhaps, it’s someone at Mount Hope guiding my process.

Recently, I moved into a very special place. It’s a neighborhood that is 150 years old and has deep historical significance. It also happens to be directly across the street from Mount Hope Cemetery. As a ghost tour guide, I’ve found among my very quiet new neighbors many of the folks I’ve spent evenings talking about. It’s odd to know the sad and gruesome fates of the people beneath my feet as I walk the serene grounds. However, the people there have become as much neighbors as the living around me. They have stories to tell beyond the ones on the tour.

My grandmother used to take me to old cemeteries when I was younger and tell me to “look at the stones and find the story.” Among the names and dates, I began to piece together things that happened. Children that died, families that lost loved ones to war, diseases that ravaged a community. It was all there if I looked carefully.

Many people see cemeteries as lonely sad places. Or creepy. Not me. They are a community coming together in love and loss. People see the stones as cold and dull gray. Not so. Look closely and there is a kaleidoscope of color and life. With The Mount Hope Cemetery Collection, I use paint and all sorts of organics to tell the tales of those that rest there along with some of the history of the cemetery itself. They have much to say and I am honored to share on their behalf through this beautiful collection.

The Organics

Sometimes it’s fun to make a mess. I call it “Jackson Pollocking.” Totally made that up. But, if you know who he is, you can imagine what that newly-minted verb entails. Making a mess with intention. Paint, plaster, instant coffee granules, water, and sand goes everywhere all over the studio. It’s fun to let things get messy like a kid in a mud puddle. The materials are all things that have a more organic feel, like that mud puddle, so that’s the name of the collection that emerged from finding the messy kid inside all over again. It’s actually immersion therapy for me because I really don’t do well with messes. So, to find the middle ground I’m comfortable with between messy abandon and the need for tidy restraint, I work with muted limited palettes to keep that serenity in the process. In those things, I find nature, but unlike the structured florals in The Giants, this is the place that I let nature be imagined and vague. Loose, flowing, and wild.