Thoughts on working in landscape painting today.

As an older woman, I’ve been looking at what I’ve invented in the past, returning to it, and reinventing it. I have always liked jerry rigged things, beaten up things that can be redeemed, and well-worn objects in general. I like how things interact with lives and with the world. For me, this always ends up describing my place on Earth. Somehow.

In my childhood I was drawn to strange landscapes and weather events. I remember some weather events particularly well, including a fire ball I saw at age 5, a tornado I saw in my 20’s, many dark ferocious thunderstorms, and two terrifying wildfires.

These are memories that are entangled with the present. Thus I feel the emotions of that child that observed things as well as the intellect of my older self who knows the news, the science, and some of the future predictions of earth’s extreme demise. I do not wish to disentangle all these things, but rather to carry on as a painter who has soaked it all up.

I do not feel my work to be sentimental but rather fierce. I feel that each painting has the potential to fight against loss and death. I very much want to hang onto the images in the paintings and the sensations that they give to me.

I want to be smart painter who makes relevant and critical work, not someone who indulges in habitual practices and simply makes beautiful things. Like others today, I am acutely aware of environmental loss, the death of species, and extreme weather events, something I did not place so much weight on in my childhood, but merely observed and felt.

I do feel isolated in my studio, but it is a good kind of heady working atmosphere. My studio and living space are integrated. I can wake up in the morning, wander downstairs to make coffee, and study the work I did the night before. Then carry on painting. I try not to worry while working if a painting is good or bad. I just try to let the painting speak to me. And that is where I get my company.

Posted September 14, 2023