We’re currently in a state of limbo. That window when our time in one place is winding down while we’re beginning the journey on to the next. Right now, we have one foot in California and one ready to step into the car and head to Idaho!
Aquatints by Alyson Shotz. To see more of Alyson’s work, please visit her website. Or if you happen to be in the Bay Area, rush over to Ratio3 to see her work in the Zero to One on Paper show.
All images via the Ratio3 website.
There often two sides to every story. And every place. As we travel and live in so many different places, we see the good and the not so good in each. In his Weaving Landscapes, Toronto artist Shawn Skeir creates dynamic, dual personality landscapes that read as two distinct glimpses of one whole.
To see more of Shawn Skeir‘s work, please visit his website.
All images are via the artist’s website.
Melting happens when the ions or molecules in a solid break down to a less ordered state. I feel like we could learn a thing or two from that giving way to a chaotic existence.
The abstract paintings by San Francisco artist Jenny Sharaf with their oozing, liquified color remind me of the freedom to be found in the melting away of our perceived orderly lives.
I’m a list maker. A bed maker. A straighten up before bed type. In some respects, it works for me– it makes me very good at my freelance work. On the other hand, it can make me a bit annoying to live with, but Mr. F thankfully puts up with my quirky type-Aness. Our traveling together has helped me to melt away of some of that. Things can’t always be just so. And I need to learn to enjoy the times when the state of our lives is in a less ordered state. If there were more structure, there would also be less freedom, less adventure. I’ll take the melting.
To see more of Jenny Sharaf‘s work, please visit her website.
All images are via the artist’s website. Artist found via SF Girl by Bay.
Busyness. For a long time we seemed to pride ourselves on it, comparing schedules at dinner parties like trading war stories. Somewhere along the line we were brainwashed into thinking busyness = importance, worth, value.
But really the opposite is true. When we are whirring through life, we fail to notice the gleam of the sunlight through flower petals, the slow pace of the clouds, the need in the eyes of a stranger.
The paintings of Albuquerque artist Tracy Rocca arise “from a conscious effort to slow down“. In applying thin glazes of color, Rocca arrives at these luminous, pulsating paintings. Like blown out photographs after a camera shutter opened too long, they seem to take the world in but with a slower, more mindful glance. Our eyes search for their focus, gently, lazily.
To see more of Tracy Rocca‘s work, please visit her website.
All images are via the artist’s website. Artist found via Winston Wachter Seattle.
Monochromatic. Neutral. Boring. Does it ever seem like life just flows from one ordinary and unremarkable day into the next? In a world dominated by screens and engines, we’ve created a universe that seems devoid of real life and color.
Barcelona artist Yago Hortal embraces the color many of us run from. In fact, his work seems to revel in all its brash boldness and audacity.
It seems like we try to curb the color in our lives, perhaps not literal but metaphorically. That friend, she’s way too “out there”, so we minimize the time we spend with her. We homogenize our relationships so that everyone we interact with looks like us, talks like us, thinks like us. So much sameness that it becomes jarring to encounter anyone who is different. But it is those differences that enrich us and teach us. Let’s embrace the color in our lives, no matter what hue it may be!
To see more of Yago Hortal‘s work, please visit his website.
All images are via the artist’s website.
You have yours, I have mine. Sometimes they overlap, often times they don’t. Our worlds are made up of our circles– of friends, of family, of colleagues. Some people like to keep their circles separate, no mixing of worlds in their spheres.
With their concentric orbs, these paintings by Benjamin Cook remind us though they may be different in size, form, and shade, our circles reverberate through us and through each other.
Some of my circles are nearly polar opposites– from good ol’ Southern folks to delightfully hippy West Coasters. Each one has their influence on who I am and who I am continuing to become. I love my slight Southern drawl ( I love Mr. F’s even more! ) but my political leanings are very left-coaster. I’m at home in both those circles because I love those people for exactly who they are, even if I may not agree with all they believe. It’s important to spend time among each because although they may not mix often, I am their common denominator and experiencing all sides helps me to become who I truly am, not who I am told to be.
To see more of Benjamin Cook‘s work, please visit his website.
All images are via the artist’s website.
A tree isn’t just its trunk. To thrive, a tree needs healthy branches. It needs to be reaching for light, nourished to its tips from within. Those branches become the homes of birds and squirrels, providing subtle, swishing music on breezy days and shelter from rainstorms.
In our current home in Marin County, our apartment in the hillside is nestled in the treetops. We see the world through a filter of blowing branches. Ember Fairbairn‘s paintings remind me not just of our view, but of the way we need to branch out in order to bloom.
Just as a tree can’t survive without its branches, so too do we need to continually reach out for new experiences in order to learn and grow. If we don’t we may become stagnated and overtaken by stronger, greedier vines.
To see more of Ember Fairbairn‘s work, please visit her website.
All images are via the artist’s website.
It doesn’t always take another person to imprison us. We can often bind ourselves up without any outside help– whether by our own thoughts, or actions, or expectations. It’s a challenge just to get out of our own way.
In this sculpture series, artist Pava Wulfert binds together painted canvas and wooden racks, illustrating in three dimensions a sense of captivity.
We don’t always recognize our own confinement– like Wulfert’s elements painted in bright, happy colors, we may be blissfully ignorant of our lack of liberty. It’s interesting that Wulfert uses typical artists’ materials like paint, canvas and rack pieces in these bound sculptures. Perhaps how we see ourselves as artists can be a prison of sorts? Certainly thinking of ourselves only in one artistic dimension limits our boundaries!
To see more of Pava Wulfert‘s work, please visit the artist’s website.
All images are via the artist’s website.
Having spent the last two summers on the Northern California coast, where the water doesn’t warm up too much between winter and summer, it’s been a while since I took a swim. When I was young, spending summers at camp and at my aunt & uncle’s lake house, I loved the water. One of my favorite things was to hold my breath and sink to the bottom. Time slowed down, the world became distant and muted. It felt like an immersion into summer.
These paintings by Wendi Turchan seem to illustrate that feeling of submersion. Fluid background colors seem to melt into each other, while bright geometric shapes float and sway. It feels like diving to the bottom of the pool for a sunken treasure.
To see more of Wendi Turchan‘s work, please visit her website.
All images are via the artist’s website.
Re-entering the real world after so many hours, weeks, months spent by my mom’s side has been more of a struggle than I might have imagined. There was, of course, a desire for a return to normality, to get back to a world in which each ring of the phone didn’t follow with a sense of fear and foreboding. But lurking constantly, just beneath the surface, are emotions that threaten to float to the top of my throat, sting my eyes, and take over.
I’m trying to walk the line between acknowledging and allowing those emotions but not giving them complete control. It is natural to feel this swirl of hurt for someone I loved so fiercely and miss so terribly. But as much as she would appreciate and understand those emotions, she would absolutely hate to see me overcome by them. So I let them come and then I let them go.
The images above are photographs by artist Kim Keever. See more of Kim’s work at his website.
All images are via the artist’s website.
