I am still exhausted from last Saturday’s reception! It was pouring rain, but lots of folks came out anyway including Mollie (and Noah) from New York. It amazes me how I can spend 8-10 hours in my studio and feel exhilarated, but a 2-hour reception drains me of every bit of energy I possess.
It’s taken me years to develop a social persona, smiling when appropriate, conversing when I need to. Only children who are artists don’t have a lot of chance to develop social skills. Too much alone time!
Ellen, Cathy and Paula.
This coming Saturday I get to try it again. Saturday, March 21st from 2 to 4 pm at the Bert Gallery on Bridge Street. Bridge Street used to be South Water Street. The street is in the same place, but the name has changed! The gallery is just north of AL Forno restaurant.
First of all – congratulations on Paula on her beautiful show of paintings from the past several years!
I live in New York and have been taking a class at the Art Students League for about the past year and a half. The League is in a beautiful old building on 57th Street in Manhattan, a cheap, independent art school amidst the Midtown hustle.
In class I often think about how odd it is to use a two-dimensional surface to depict three dimensional space. It’s a strange pursuit. But when it’s good, it’s an impossible kind of magic.
On the part of the painter, some of the glory in it comes from the joy of looking. While I was working on this painting, I felt like I was flying around these objects with my eyes, zooming up one side of the vase, following it down to where it drops away behind the cloth. Pretty exhilarating stuff for a Sunday afternoon.
My exhibit at the Bert Gallery opens on Tuesday. It’s a large exhibit for me, 16 paintings, 3 or 4 years worth of work. I’m not nervous, just a bit curious how they might be received.
The North SIde of Rain
My paintings are a fractious family, a room full of only children vying for attention. When I dropped them off a few weeks ago, Cathy Bert described the chaotic scene as a riot in the front room and a revolution in the back. In a weird way, that makes me proud.
My paintings don’t look alike. Years ago, someone told me that my paintings don’t look like they were painted by the same person. I’m not sure if that’s true anymore, but each painting certainly has a personality of its own.