I live by the Milwaukee, Kinnickinnic, and Menomonee Rivers and sometimes participate in river clean-up days. It mostly involves picking up trash on the river banks and surrounding neighborhoods, since these rivers all run through urban areas. Trying to imagine what these rivers were like before Milwaukee was a city is part of this work's development.
A modern grey with the green vibe of mint, surrounded by an untouched field, these were the harmonies that I was looking to unite in this painting. I began with the grey, then used a book that I got in Venice in 1999 called Color Harmony to give me a clue as to how to proceed. What I love about this painting is the lines, the two halves tell two different stories, one of an electric city expanding out into a lush field, and the other of a city that is a bit twisted. It reminds me of my attempts to read home magazines, or blogs, filled with rustic, romantic charm that fits nowhere into my urban, decaying house. I guess a 100 year old home should have some built-in farmhouse like charm, but mostly it just feels old and pieced together. I hope this painting could be in a farmhouse or vibrant city home.
Three journeys make their way through the blue skies of a perfect day. One is green and has sharp turns. Another, peach, has two distinct chapters. A third, with a golden tan, is smaller and almost goes unnoticed, but still makes it's mark on the perfect day.
Back stage at the Milwaukee Zoo, we attempted to see a moose. We did see a baby moose along a chain-linked fence. And at the Minnesota Zoo, I thought I sa one in the distance. But I still would like to see one in the wild someday. The browns in this painting remind me of the moose horns on display against an electric blue and enlivened by a bit of electric pink. This moose is taking a journey that stands out from the rest.
The body takes a journey, no matter who you are, and the journey has a start and an end. No one knows which parts will be full, steady, short, or near end. The journey of the body in this picture is painted on a large green form. The light blue path crosses the green figure intimately and turquoise and grey paths have a close relationship with the figure as well. Where do all of our paths cross, where do they touch, and where do they start or end? This is a snapshot of a moment in time in which journeys become near to others.
The purple, green and yellow contrast in this painting make me really happy! I experimented with the blending of purples and whites and really like the result, so I may have to try this in more paintings. This one is unique in the amount of colors used and it has at the feeling of a cross section of rock, like a geode.
The focus of many of my works is using line to explore what a life journey may look like. The lines don't have a beginning or end, but make their mark on the page as they dance through one section of time on the canvas. This life is pronounced, contrasting, ribboning beautifully through the space. Three lines on the side contrast, they are smaller, straighter, quieter, playing their stringed song while the ribbon dances.
This painting is part of a five painting series and I love the contrast of the orange with the blue and green lines. This light blue line is taking a separate looking path from the others'.
This Green Journey Line took a path of it's own and swallowed up several other paths inside of itself. This is part of a five painting series I made for a friend's office. I had fun with the orange and red background.
I was fortunate enough to visit my Aunt and Uncle in Portland, Oregon. We visited the art center and there was a grouping of paintings that inspired these colors. There is a suggestion of mountains, streams and waterfalls. I guess it is a bit of a landscape.
When I was a kid, and people said that something went down the wrong tube, like water into the air pipe, I pictured thousands of tubes inside the body, one for every different thing you eat or drink. So there was a spaghetti tube, a cotton candy tube, etc. I thought you would cough if something went down the wrong tube. I was pretty young, and never took a biology class, and I was pretty weird to begin with. I’m still trying to picture the inside of the body, and I used to like to draw from Di Vinci’s anatomy books to get it right. I also used to make three-dimensional sculptures of fake anatomy, like stomachs and intestines. I used to get really bad stomach aches so I was preoccupied with what might be happening inside my body. I guess that’s why I developed this style of intestines, organs, and stomachs.
Anxieties about what is coming in this world never seem to go away. Humans must journey on, through a sea of chaos.
I think the later works of Francis Bacon influenced this one. Such bright colors, but grotesque human flesh sitting in the foreground.