Just as chilly winds arrive, I've finished the mural I started in a heat wave.
finishing up the Cherry Tree
detail of Daffodil panel: click here to see it being painted
Now I'm thinking about what could be next for me, hopefully more big art right out in public for everyone to enjoy!
Bluebird in Artists for Artists
Sparrow in Bring Another Friend to the LAA
Friend and artist Margaret Tsirantonakis invited me to show with her in this exhibit at the Loft Artists Association (575 Pacific Street in Stamford CT). We are both showing birds. Exhibit runs October 3-November 1. See paintings here or visit the LAA website for more info.
Sparrow, charcoal, acrylic, and oil paint on canvas, 20”x20”
Big Flowers
Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio is one of my all time favorite painters. As a wide eyed art student in Rome, I spent hours staring at his paintings, trying to absorb the glowing colors, deeply shadowed tableaus, and subjects that seemed to tangibly emit complexity and emotion.
Not long ago I read this biography about Caravaggio. Learning of the chaos he had to navigate in order to do his work, I was astounded at what he accomplished. As I continue to learn during this discordant time, creativity is not a free standing island that we can hop to - it has to happen right in the middle of everything else.
The purpose of this commission, to lighten and uplift the spirits of those entering the Bennett Cancer Center, appealed to me immediately. I feel joy and expansion of spirit when I draw and paint, and I knew those qualities would be amplified by working so large and be apparent in the final piece. The lines and motion of my flowers, how each moves upward and forward, and the colors I chose, are all meant to give visitors a sense of nature's powerful ability to connect us to our younger selves and the larger world.
These days, things feel intensely uncertain and normal disturbances seem amplified. I definitely did not expect to feel anything but thrilled and in my element during this last stage of the project. And yet I've been challenged to separate out my personal state of mind while retaining enough of it to paint in a genuine way.
As I work, patients, family, and caregivers stop to look at the flowers or express appreciation. Some are regular visitors and we chat about the mural's progress.
Each time, I'm freshly grateful to be putting my art where it can have a positive impact, and thank these visitors for sharing that with me. I see that my art is bringing a happy moment to someone, and that feels restorative.
Here I am starting to add color to the Wild Violet - click here to see a walk through of the mural in line form that Anabel filmed.
How about you? What projects are you working to complete in the middle of everything else?
All the best!
Alissa
Outline
Last week Anabel and I got to work at the the mural site, Bennet Cancer Center at Stamford Hospital. She is my assistant as well as my child and an artist in her own right, and it is such a pleasure to work with her.
We projected the drawings that I'd developed in my studio onto the walls. The width of the corridor didn't allow us to get far back enough to adequately enlarge the images, so we split the photos and put them up a section at a time. We used a printout of the flower to gauge size and placement, shifting and adjusting as we went.
The color I am using to draw here, Maganese Blue, is also the first color I pick up when I begin to paint into a charcoal drawing. I use it's cool brightness to put in shadows and emphasize marks. This color pops in a way that a black outline cannot, and I can weave it into the subsequent image without breaking the mood, reinforcing the idea that it is more supporting structure than outline.
Alice Neel is one of my favorite painters, and I think it was in her work that I first saw electric blue describing a form. Her seemingly casual lines offer a wealth of information, and are punctuated by blank canvas, which I read as a thrilling invitation to the viewer to take part in constructing the image.
Ed Sun, oil on canvas, Alice Neel
I love this color's ability to pull out forms and bring light to darkness.
Click here or on photo above to watch a time lapse video of the daffodil drawing.
Riding the Wave
Art is standing with one hand extended into the universe and one hand extended into the world, and letting ourselves be a conduit for passing energy. - Unknown
Lily, oil paint on linen, 16"x12", private collection Norwalk Ct
Intuitive action drives my artistic process. I pick up a brush or piece of charcoal and start, even though I can't see exactly where I'm going.
For this approach to work, I have to be open. Trying to steer or control the process stops me from really seeing what is emerging and what is needed next.
Carmine e Gino, oil paint on canvas, 22"x30", private collection Dunedin FL
Even if a painting is essentially a copy of a photo, I have to give it space to become what it wants to be.
Coneflower sketch, charcoal on canvas, 34”x48”
That holds true for this mural. At each point of developing the design, I've drawn a fresh take on the flowers, enlarging but also slightly altering them. Not being attached to my original images leaves room for the flowers to grow. Now, even though I'm ready to paint on the wall, I have to stay open and responsive to the progress of the work.
Here we are checking out the freshly painted blank walls and dropping off supplies at the mural site, where we were received with a warm welcome and generous offers to help us unload.
We'll go back tomorrow to start work. Stay tuned as we begin the next phase!
How about you? Where in your life are you giving something time and space to grow?
All the best,
Alissa
Breaking Space
One bitter cold evening last winter, I trekked from my house in the woods to a Manhattan bound train, hopped on a subway downtown, walked the last chilly blocks, pushing through double doors into a convivially noisy, warm trattoria to greet my friends.
Sketch of Horse and Rider, Rome, pencil and pen on paper, 9”x6”
As art students, we had all lived together in Palazzo Cenci in Rome's Trastevere neighborhood, surrounded by the art of Caravaggio, Michelangelo, Bernini, and many others. Now our program's much-loved director had come to town, and we travelled from far and near to be together again.
As talk turned to our various projects, I mentioned that I was scaling up small flower sketches to fill big walls. One of my friends remarked that what draws him to my work is my gesture.
Pigeon (in process), charcoal and acrylic on linen, 22”x28”
Seagull (in process), charcoal, acrylic, and sand on canvas, 30”x40”
As art Gesture is that first sweeping, full body transmission of the motion and energy of the object to the surface. Accuracy of form is not primary: extracting and representing the essence of the thing is.
I could impart to the wall a more open and three dimensional feeling by using gesture to break up the space.
Franz Kline, Mahoning, 1956, oil and paper on canvas
I went to the Whitney to look at the powerful and slashing marks made by Franz Kline and Willem DeKooning, and left with a gut understanding of lines carving into space, transforming two dimensions into three.
I returned to my flowers with a refreshed concept: take them from decorative images to space transforming objects.
Flower Mural sketch, detail, pencil and oil paint on canvas
I wanted to move from a more delicate, ornamental flower
Wild Rose (left), and Broadleaf Arrowhead (right), both charcoal and oil paint on canvas, 34"x48"
to a dynamic rendering that cut through and expanded the space.
Drawing outside my parameters is a constant theme for me. No matter how large my surface is, I exceed it and inevitably have to rescale my drawing to fit the space. For this mural, that tendency will serve me well.Click here to see a time lapse video of me making a big drawing.
How about you? What are you looking at differently these days?
All the best,
Alissa
Uplift in the Breezeway
About a year ago, I got a call asking if I'd be interested in painting on a 112 foot long breezeway wall leading to the Bennet Cancer Center at Stamford Hospital.
Anyone entering the building has to traverse a long grey corridor. The idea behind the mural was to lighten that walk for patients, family members, and staff.
Stamford Hospital has an extensive collection of art, much of it local. I'm fortunate to have eleven of my paintings on walls around the hospital, including this Pink Cherry Tree in the foyer. It became the starting place for the mural.
Pink Cherry Tree, charcoal, acrylic, & oil paint on linen, 68"x60, collection Stamford Hospital, Ct
Cherry Trees once grew on the building's site, and the hospital wanted them included.
Sketch, Flower Mural
I imagined huge flowers floating along the breezeway, with cherry petals scattering in the breeze. Defying gravity and breaking up the space at the same time, I thought a floating arc of large flowers would disrupt the wall's solidity and elevate the mood.
Flowers in the Breezeway, sketch, pencil and acrylic on prepared paper, 81/2”x11”
A blooming tree at the end of the breezeway served as focal point and anchor for the floating flowers, and allowed for a great burst of color at the entryway.
Flowers in the Breezeway, sketch, pencil and acrylic on prepared paper, 101/2”x83”
I made a scale drawing of the walls to see how the flowers would lay out,
choosing local flowers with healing and medicinal properties.
While looking into the best paint for the surface, I learned that the wall (porous) could not hold paint (non-porous). Moisture would seep into the wall, have no way out, and the paint would peel. I paid a visit to the owner of the company that manufactures the wall surfacing. Eds Senior and Junior told me that they could mix the compound in any color I liked, and then I could paint with that. I left the shop with 30 blank color cards.
Six Flowers, sand and oil paint on prepared cardboard, 30”x40”
I usually make it up as I go while painting, figuring out the colors as I work and using as many mixtures as I like. For this to work I had to limit the number of colors I used and predetermine what they would be. I worked them out for each type of flower, assigning each mixture a letter and number and putting it on one of the color cards as I went.
I mixed greens for what felt like days, looking for the right shades.
When I had all my colors, I shipped the color samples to New Jersey and let Ed Jr. work his magic.
Coneflower, sketch, charcoal on canvas, 36"x28"
Matching my colors would take about six weeks. I went back to my studio and began to draw the flowers big, looking for the energy and motion a large wall would need.
There are 11 panels to the breezeway, two comprised by the tree and one that turns a corner.
I'll share more about the challenges that poses next week, and stay tuned as I prepare to begin putting up the mural!
How about you? Are you working on a project that is challenging you to solve problems along the way?
All the best,
Alissa
Gathering Power
While painting large animals, I felt a shift. The animals were great vehicles for expressing big emotions, but I wanted a more direct connection to human experience.
Koumokuten, Guardian Deity, photo the artist
On a trip to Japan, I was thrilled by towering statues, their imposing forms crowned with fierce expressions.
The Protector in this photo is made of carved wood and is one of four guardian deities at the four points of the globe, defending the Buddha from the west.
Nio, Nara Japan, photo the artist
Nio were especially intruiging, paired guardians flanking entryways to temples and shrines, protecting those within from mal-intentioned intruders. Even the chicken wire meant to protect from birds barely dimmed the statues' powerful presence.
They work in pairs, one exerting active energy and the other exhibiting potential power.
To get a sense of the scale, here I am barely reaching the knees of the Nio.
I love how these figures occupy space: articulated muscles, jutting limbs, tightly bound topknots and loose ends unfurling into space. Their fierce attitudes and expressions drew me in.
Working on large canvases let me fully explore the gesture and movement of the Guardians.
Japanese Guardian 2, charcoal and oil paint on linen, 70”x46”, in process
I wanted to show these figures controlling the elements, and set out to create a swirling, moving background that was responsive to their stance.
Japanese Guardian, charcoal and oil paint on linen, 70”x46”
By placing the canvases next to each other as I worked, I was able to carry one painting's motion over to the next. I moved the canvases back and forth as I worked, aiming to have the pair work in either order.
Japanese Guardian 2, charcoal and oil paint on linen, 70”x46”
The blank surface of the ground is a counterpoint to the energy swirling above, and also acts as a stepping stone into the space of the painting.
There's just enough room to have them side by side in my studio.
Japanese Guardian 2, charcoal and oil paint on linen, 70”x46”
Not having painted the background first, it was an ongoing challenge to create sweeping gesture in the background without encroaching on the figure.
I got so frustrated during this process that I walked away and started making abstract work.
It was a good move, and I was able to return and finish the pair with fresh eyes.
How about you? What has impressed you with it's power and energy?
All the best as we continue to navigate this strange new world - wear that mask and stay well!
Alissa
Shiny Objects
One year for work Wes travelled to every continent but Antartica. Our kids were small and climbed into his open suitcase as he packed. He returned with stories of people he met, foods he'd eaten, and moments of magic in far away places.
Wire Snake from Eritrea, artist unknown
He also brought home souvenirs like this snake. It reminded me of bracelets we made as kids from bits of telephone wire.
Snake, charcoal on canvas, 32”x52”
I gave myself a big canvas to draw on although the wire snake fits in my hand.
Around this time I was painting a series of fighting animals, and decided the one snake would be more interesting as two entangled. I found it impossible to keep the two forms distinct as I drew them, and in a moment of desperation, laid out mardi gras beads, blue for one snake and red for the other, as a way to keep them straight in my mind.
Snakes, acrylic, oil paint, porcelain, beads, and mirror on canvas, 32”x52”
Using the beads was freeing, and I found I could use them and other objects as I would paint: to describe volume, shape, and motion.
The Bounty Hunter, a 2010 film starring Jennifer Aniston and Gerard Butler, featured the Snakes in a tattoo parlor/bar scene.
Some time later while making a series of hearts, I thought of the beading I had done on the Snakes.
I started with a charcoal drawing, then thought about how to emphasize the heart and it's energy.
The form got a vivid red outline, then I surrounded it with broken glass. The reflective but shattered glass set against the soft exposed forms of the heart seemed to touch on some of the complexities of this organ.
I spent days moving 1/8" shiny beads into place with a pin. The experience was satisfying and meditative. The painstaking nature of the work left me feeling connected to women who have worked looms with fiber or beads, crafted threads into fine work, or otherwise transformed ordinary objects into something greater.
charcoal, acrylic and oil paint, glass, beads, and pins on linen, 24”x21”
It was so satisfying to lay the last of the beads in place and step back to see a shimmering wall of gold.
Not long ago I got a glimpse of some incredible beadwork. The sheer amount of work involved in this piece left me dazzled: wonder and reflection in the mundane seat of domestic labor.
Liza Lou, Kitchen (detail), from Making Knowing: Craft in Art,1950–2019 at the Whitney Museum of American Art
I love seeing work like this that pushes my awareness of what is possible, and reminds me to play while I am at it!
How about you? Have you discovered what's possible by introducing a new element? Reply in the comments below and let me know!
Fighting Dragons
When my kids were growing up, we spent a lot of time in a Dojo near our house practicing karate. One of the instructors was a young guy, and the time came that he left our community to further his education. I wanted to give him a gift to take with him, and began to look around for inspiration.
Nine Dragon Wall in the Forbidden City, Beijing, detail
I came across an image of dragons, glazed tile reliefs forming a wall in front of the Palace of Tranquil Longevity in Beijing's Forbidden City. Something about the dragons' spirit and playfulness caught my interest. Unlike Western fire-breathing, princess-snatching dragons, these serpentine creatures are powerful and benevolent, and associated with life-giving and sustaining water.
I had found my subject.
Water Dragons, ink and watercolor on paper, 8 1/2" x11"
I was happy but not satisfied with the watercolor. I wanted to emphasize everything about these dragons.
Fighting Water Dragons, charcoal on canvas, 48”x60
I moved from paper to canvas and scaled up the drawing to make room for crashing waves and clashing dragons.
Fighting Water Dragons, charcoal and oil paint on canvas, 48"x60", in process
Oil paint's thick, shiny, saturated nature served my vision better than watercolors.
Fighting Water Dragons, oil paint on canvas, 48”x60
I've always loved comics and graffiti. Fat shapes, sharp angles, clearly defined forms and vibrating colors clash, compete, and somehow come together in a powerful image. I found myself pushing the painting in that direction, adding a black outline to the forms.
The larger scale let me explore the idea of conflict and connection. The dragons are poised in a moment of confrontation and opposition, teeth and nails poised to shred, but the heart shapes formed where they come together signify love and a bond alongside the conflict.
I wanted to see how this idea would play out with other great beasts, and went on to explore the topic in a series that includes tigers, elephants, snakes, and alligators.
Tigers, oil paint on canvas, 42”x66”
All the art in these posts is for sale if available. (Or click here for Dragons and Tigers art card sets.) I am building out my store, so stay tuned for more or message me if you are interested in a piece!
ps- here are the dragons on a traffic signal box in downtown Stamford!
Swamp to Sea
Some years ago I read an astonishingly visual
book: Swamplandia, by Karen Russell.
The book tells the story of a family and their alligator wrestling theme park deep in Florida's Ten Thousand Islands. I turned the last page, closed the book, and felt that the swamp had taken root in my imagination. I pulled out a canvas and began to draw the lazy looking but deadly creatures I had just vicariously consorted with.
I sketched first with charcoal,
then in paint, the colors, heat, and pervasiveness of the environment.
Alligators, charcoal and oil paint on canvas, 36”x60”
The Bigtree family, proprietors of Swamplandia, were inextricable from their gators and the fecund Everglades. The unpainted canvas is where I've let the image bleed into our world, leaving it all open. I thought about the ugly repulsive beauty of these gators and realized I was not done exploring this idea.
Octopus, charcoal on canvas, 38”x48”
Octopus came to mind.
As I drew tentacles, suction cups, and that great bulbous head, I found I wanted to know more. I picked up Soul of an Octopus by Sy Montgomery, and learned astonishing things about these otherworldly creatures.
Octopus, charcoal on canvas, 38”x48” private collection Dunedin, FL
Beginning to understand the complexity and intelligence of these beings had me wanting to see what else I could show of their magnificence.
Octo Leaning, charcoal, acrylic, and oil paint on canvas, 34”x32”
I decided to bring the octopus closer and push further the idea of subject and environment as one.
Octopus Leaning, charcoal, acrylic, and oil paint on canvas, 34”x32”
As I worked, I looked for shared colors and shapes. I thought about the octopus resting and blending.
Octopus Leaning, charcoal, acrylic, and oil paint on canvas, 34”x32”
Shifts of light and current in the sea and on the Octopus make me wonder how distinct from each other they really are.
I wanted to explore more this idea of animal and environment, and spend more time with the floating forms of the sea.
Jellyfish, oil paint on linen, 36”x29”
In painting this Jellyfish I moved from majestic ugliness to beauty capable of inflicting pain. This concluded the series, at least for the moment, and I moved on to other ideas.
How about you? What idea has captured your imagination?
All the best,
Alissa
Outside In
I visited Pompeii and Herculaneum, cities excavated from volcanic ash to reveal artifacts of ancient lives. It was eerie walking amongst the ruins, but our guide pointed out a design feature of the shadowy spaces: one could stand in a room, look through a window and through that outside space and into another window leading into another space. So one could stand in cool shade and look out to the brightness, then into a small window of coolness.
Christopher Street wtih Sasha, oil paint on linen, 42”x32”
Years later, about to move out of NYC, I decided to paint my home there as a sort of farewell. That creative construct of being in several spaces at once that I had seen in Pompeii came to mind.
Living Room (NYC), oil paint on canvas, private collection Montvale NJ
My apartment was tiny but held many different spaces. I set up my easel wherever I could see a way to include a glimpse beyond the scene I was painting.
We moved into a duplex in Connecticut filled with art and antiques, caretaking for owners living in Milan. I painted room after room, Sasha the cat following me around.
Hallway, oil paint on linen, 48”x36”
Interiors hold so many surfaces - mirrors reflect light, windows and doorways invite passage through, and objects offer a glimpse of another life.
Sasha as Mermaid, oil paint on linen, 16”x24”, private collection Milan Italy
I left them mostly uninhabited so viewers can feel alone in the room.
Living Room, oil paint on linen, 32"x40", private collection Bedford NY
I experimented with different painting styles for inside and out.
Desk, oil paint on canvas, 16”x20”
I began to think of windows and doors as an escape within the escape of the painting.
Iris, oil paint on canvas, 48”x34”
These irises were in front of a white wall when I painted them - once I added a window behind, the painting came to life.
How about you - do you have a space that holds special meaning or peace for you? Reply below and let me know what it is!
All the best,
Alissa
Red Skies
Years ago Wes and I traveled to Paris to celebrate a decade together. I photographed everything, hoping to return to my studio with lots of source material for future work. Back home, one image rose to the surface.
Fontaine de l'Observatore, detail, horses by Emmanuel Frémiet, photo by the artist
The musculature of the rearing animals sprayed by water and the mythic aspect of the merhorses caught my attention.
Fountain, oil paint on linen, 14"x24"
I decided to make a small painting as a starting point for figuring out where the image was going.
Pretty quickly (and as is often the case) I knew I wanted to go much bigger.
sketch for Horses, charcoal on linen, 48”x56”
It was great to draw the horses large, and use my whole arm and body to find the movement and gesture they contained.
Horses, charcoal and oil paint on linen, 48”x56”
I sketched in the fountain around them, and the grass that lay beyond. I tinted the background red, preparing the way for a blue sky. Putting light blue on top of a red wash would make the color pop and glow.
But as I added paint, I saw turmoil emerging - in the marks representing water and in the paint on the animals. The fountain containing the horses was constraining the image: I painted it out along with the foliage in the background, and saw that the red sky made sense.
Horses, charcoal and oil paint on linen, 48”x56”
The sky is lit red, splashes of paint rain down, and the animals are in open water.
My initial excitement upon seeing these massive creatures for the first time and sense of their monumentality and motion, found its way into the brushstrokes, splatter marks, and background of this painting.
What moment has caught your eye? Comment below and let me know!
All the best,
Alissa
A Three Cat Gift
“If you understand a painting beforehand, you might as well not paint it.”– Salvador Dalí
Painting is an accumulation of marks, each representing a discovery: it's not possible to know ahead of time what lies along the way. I can quickly put a rough sketch on canvas, but then things shift. I enter into a dialogue with the painting, and treat it as an organic, developing thing with it's own logic, unknown to me but discoverable.
This began as a drawing of a small wire snake Wes brought home from a business trip to Mozambique:
Snake, charcoal on linen, 32”x52”
Snakes, acrylic, oil paint, glass, beads, porcelain, and fabric on linen, 32”x52”
And ended up as two intertwined snakes traced out in beads and found objects.
But when someone comes to me with an idea for a painting or other commission, I have to balance my desire to see where the image will go with confining myself to the task at hand.
When a client has a photo they would like made into a painting, things are pretty straightforward.
If someone has an idea in mind, but is open to how it will come together, I spend time getting to know the personalities involved and take photographs, giving us settings and ideas to choose from.
I just painted three cats, a gift for a son and daughter in law.
The cats lived some time ago, and the assorted photos in my hands were my only references for them. These cats were bursting with personality, and I decided to show them up close to highlight it. This also eliminated the need for full body photos, which I didn't have.
First rough sketch of the cats.
Each cat was pictured separately- I chose the photos with sharpest detail that seemed to work together. One of the photos had a cat on a green bedspread in a green walled room. Perfect, I thought, with the orange and grey of the cats, and made that their environment.
I share the finished drawing with the client
and start to paint.
Washes of blue will be the base for green wallpaper and bedspread. I use this same blue to put shadows in and around the cats: the blue weaves through every part of the painting.
The painting is almost done, and I like how certain areas are left unpainted, weaving in with washes and thicker paint. But it's time to check my vision against the client's, especially as I have not met these cats.
I add orange to both cats to more accurately show their coloring and bring the piece more in line with the client's idea. I try to make the work my own, while holding back or setting aside my more experimental impulses, saving that for my studio work.
I had fun painting these felines and wound up happy with the balance of creativity and representation.
Art is a source of reflection, meditation, inspiration, and the lifting of spirits. Commissioned paintings offer an opportunity for a bit of adventure as you become part of the creative process.
Painting commissions are focused creative collaborations, and average a few thousand dollars. If you have an idea you'd like to turn into a painting, drop me an email and let me know!
Finding the Lines
Drawings record what I see, but each is constructed differently based on what it's for.
Sometimes I sketch because I'm inspired by my surroundings, like this top pic from a museum visit. Other times I'm putting down underlying forms for a painting, like the portrait on the bottom.
To begin any painting, first I draw, my favorite part. The work is fast and energized, filled with the thrill of discovering new forms.
When it comes time to paint, I try to hold on to the energy and intention of the charcoal lines. I know that I'll lose that first raw impression that is in the drawing, but hope that in exchange my subject will gain a more solid presence.
Banaglia's Crouching lion, oil on linen, 30"x30"
Banaglia's Crouching lion, oil on linen, 30"x30"
Sometimes I take the image so far with charcoal that paint is not going to add anything.
Carpeaux's Count Ugolino and Sons, charcoal on canvas, 70"x46"
Then I stop, deciding what I've got is a drawing.
Keith, charcoal on canvas, 9"x9", private collection Stamford Ct
I feel a kind of intimate understanding with the things I've drawn, a result of hours of close looking. I get a similar feeling when I look at another artists' drawing, as though I were seeing through their eyes, creating the marks alongside them, and understanding the subject in a new way. It's thrilling too, to see a drawing made by someone new to the skill, feeling their way to putting on paper what they see, and creating something that bears a trace of them.
As I write this my heart is lifting as people around the world show up to demand racial justice. Clearly, there is much work to be done. Please consider giving to an organization that supports racial healing and justice, or criminal justice reform.A few ideas:
The Sentencing Project works towards criminal justice reform and a fair system.
My local food bank (or yours!) - assists with food insecurity.
Children's Defense Fund helps every child thrive and reach their full potential.
Campaign Zero - working to end police violence in America.
Black Lives Matter - working to bring justice, healing, and freedom to Black people across the globe.
All the best,
Alissa
What's Going On
Bluebird, charcoal, acrylic, and oil paint on linen, 20”x24”
Mother, mother
There's too many of you crying
Brother, brother, brother
There's far too many of you dying
You know we've got to find a way
To bring some lovin' here today - Marvin Gaye, What's Going On
Marvin Gaye wrote these words more than fifty years ago, and our neighbors are still falling around us. Small wonder an overload of injustice has become too much to bear.
I ask myself: how do I see what is happening around me and still find meaning in my work? How does my work matter?
Milk, oil paint on linen, 26”x25”
As I think I spend time a lot of time looking to see beyond first impressions.
Diane, oil paint on canvas, 42”x34”
If I can see people I can represent them, one small act.
Keith, oil on canvas, 22”x28”, collection Pacific House, Stamford CT
Can we recognize common humanity in each other? An important and maybe vital question right now.
Dave, oil paint on canvas, 30”x44”, collection Sacred Heart University
"I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be, and you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be... This is the inter-related structure of reality.” Martin Luther King Jr.
Sisters, pencil on plastic, 5”x7”, private collection, Stamford Ct
Does this resonate with you like it does with me? Here are just a few ways to act:
The Sentencing Project works towards criminal justice reform and a fair system.
My local food bank (or yours!) - assists with food insecurity.
Children's Defense Fund helps every child thrive and reach their full potential.
Campaign Zero - working to end police violence in America.
I'm hopeful that if we all do things to care for each other we can begin to rebuild a more just society.
All the best!
Alissa
Order Out of Chaos
Around us a different world is emerging, one we are still trying to gauge and understand. Very little is as it was, but we can see that flowers continue to bloom and birdsong fills the air.
Six Flowers, oil paint on prepared cardboard, 30”x40”
I created these flowers for a mural project. Now I'm drawing each one larger, scaling up the energy and motion a big wall painting will need. I've splattered my white canvas with paint ahead of time to activate the surface and generate some chaos on which to overlay order, or my drawing.
I try to get the image down with as much speed and accuracy as possible, recording my first observations.
After that first quick impression, the process slows down to allow for closer investigation as I begin to refine the sketch. Drawing is observing my way forward from those first marks, deciding along the way what to record and what to omit. With persistent looking over time, things reveal themselves. It stuns me that I can spend hours looking and yet keep seeing new things.
Wild Violet Sketch, charcoal and acrylic paint on canvas, 38"x48".
Once the shapes and lines begin to evoke the thing I'm drawing, I stop. At this point drawing has served its purpose, creating an understructure. Now I'll go in with paint, still looking hard and trying to further reveal what is there.
Is there a place in your life where you keep discovering things you didn't know were there? Reply below and let me know!
Superhero
Often I find myself suddenly in a situation: juggling and trying not to drop phone, wallet, and drink on the street, or maybe hitting an unsolvable tech problem in the last minutes of a project.
In steps my partner, and with the smallest of gestures or words, saves the moment. This is when I sing to him: "Everyday hero...", stretching out the syllables and throwing my arms wide so he can fully appreciate my tribute. We laugh, but I mean it.
In 2009 I was practicing a lot of martial arts and painting celebrity portraits. Bruce Lee's skills as a martial artist and trailblazer led me to choose him as a subject.
Bruce Lee, charcoal and oil paint on canvas, 34"x28"
I loved the power of the red, but looking for something more personal, decided to put myself in the picture.
Kickboxer, charcoal and oil paint on canvas, 48"x24"
Kickboxer, charcoal and oil paint on canvas, 48"x24"
Me as superhero! I dropped the red but kept the broad, loaded brushstrokes and comic book look of the image.
Healthcare and essential workers, relatives stepping in for trained professionals, and so many others are performing true acts of self sacrifice and heroism every day.
But for the rest of us, or me anyway, actively appreciating heroes at home lifts all our spirits.
Who is your everyday hero? Or are you someone else's hero? Reply below and let me know!
All the best,
Alissa
Just Babies
One day while I was sipping some groove juice I realized
That in the span of time we're just babies
It's all relative, time is unreal
We're just babies, we're just babies, man
Examination of What - Digable Planets
When I realized I was a painter and set about figuring out what that meant, I made my family my subject. Faces and bodies, alone and in relationship to each other, seemed almost to vibrate with energy, emotions, and untold stories. Here I am in my backyard, flanked by my mother and her mother-in-law. At the time I only sensed things my adult self now sees in this scene.
Barbeque, oil on linen, 28"x 36", 1996
I began to see how the basic elements of painting making, color and its application, held nuances of emotion which could serve the feeling I was trying to get at.
Family, oil on canvas board, 18"x 24", 1996
Color and gesture can evoke memory and emotion.
Long Walk, charcoal and oil paint on linen, 28"x22", 1997
No white can match the brilliance of primed, unpainted canvas, but using it requires finding a way to activate something I am leaving alone.
W and A, charcoal and oil paint on linen, 8"x10", 1999
There is a kind of tension in a surface that is primed and ready but not touched. It offers a place for the viewer to imagine.
Baby A, gouache on canvas, 10"x8", 1999