Artist Statement
Water Mill and Truro: Oceans and Beaches
These paintings were inspired by the stunningly beautiful beaches of Water Mill (a hamlet in Southampton, far out on the East End of Long Island) and Truro (a small village near Provincetown, on Cape Cod). They explore and express emotions and questions that arise from being in those places, in response to the strong elements of light, sand, sound, wind, and the Atlantic Ocean. During the painting process a dialogue develops in which literal representation of the place gives way to expressions of emotions, geometry and metaphysical questions.
Each painting begins as an expression of the rhythms and colors of the sand and the water. The sand, water, and sky which at first appear to be ivory and blue are actually colors one might not suspect -- violets, greens, reds, blues and golds, dark umbers. The light is soft, sometimes strange, often dramatic, atmospheric even on a clear day. Against the ocean's steady percussion is the lyrical movement of the sand, always changing, responding, healing. The beach lies still, with waves and undulations.
During the painting process a dialogue develops in which literal representation of the place gives way to expressions of emotions, geometry and metaphysical questions.
These paintings were inspired by the stunningly beautiful beaches of Water Mill (a hamlet in Southampton, far out on the East End of Long Island) and Truro (a small village near Provincetown, on Cape Cod). They explore and express emotions and questions that arise from being in those places, in response to the strong elements of light, sand, sound, wind, and the Atlantic Ocean. During the painting process a dialogue develops in which literal representation of the place gives way to expressions of emotions, geometry and metaphysical questions.
Each painting begins as an expression of the rhythms and colors of the sand and the water. The sand, water, and sky which at first appear to be ivory and blue are actually colors one might not suspect -- violets, greens, reds, blues and golds, dark umbers. The light is soft, sometimes strange, often dramatic, atmospheric even on a clear day. Against the ocean's steady percussion is the lyrical movement of the sand, always changing, responding, healing. The beach lies still, with waves and undulations.
During the painting process a dialogue develops in which literal representation of the place gives way to expressions of emotions, geometry and metaphysical questions.
Journeys: by Horse and by Car
My landscapes from horseback and as a passenger in a car explore the separation from nature, and awe-filled appreciation, that I feel when on a journey. I've always been struck by the sense of remove one feels when riding in a car--travelling through a place, only separated by some sheet metal, maybe some glass, but only inches from the place we are moving through, yet separate. Seeing a landscape (or roadways) from a car is like watching a movie that is only made as we drive onward: we are there, but not truly in it, just passing by.
The paintings from horseback reflect that unique perspective one gets from being with a horse: privileged to be "along for the ride" as we travel in their world. We see things seen by them, at horse-height and at a horse's pace, Our attention is drawn to what they are noticing and reacting to. We feel their bodies tense and relax under our legs and seat, through the reins. We have communication with this special part of nature, but we still participate a step removed, Our feet do not touch the ground. In this unique situation, there is time to reflect, time to notice the shadows, the light through the trees, the direction the horse's ears have turned, the hesitation or syncopation in the footfall of hooves, and feel profoundly fortunate.
My landscapes from horseback and as a passenger in a car explore the separation from nature, and awe-filled appreciation, that I feel when on a journey. I've always been struck by the sense of remove one feels when riding in a car--travelling through a place, only separated by some sheet metal, maybe some glass, but only inches from the place we are moving through, yet separate. Seeing a landscape (or roadways) from a car is like watching a movie that is only made as we drive onward: we are there, but not truly in it, just passing by.
The paintings from horseback reflect that unique perspective one gets from being with a horse: privileged to be "along for the ride" as we travel in their world. We see things seen by them, at horse-height and at a horse's pace, Our attention is drawn to what they are noticing and reacting to. We feel their bodies tense and relax under our legs and seat, through the reins. We have communication with this special part of nature, but we still participate a step removed, Our feet do not touch the ground. In this unique situation, there is time to reflect, time to notice the shadows, the light through the trees, the direction the horse's ears have turned, the hesitation or syncopation in the footfall of hooves, and feel profoundly fortunate.
Blue Horse, Green Rider 40" x 30" oil on canvas