That's it... that's all I wanted to say.
|Today's work in progress|
|detail of work in progress 10/5/17|
|Hangover painting, 2017, acrylic and oil on cardboard|
|some artwork to reference while reading the description!|
"Momento (ribbon)", 2017, oil on paper, 33.5 x 38 inches
My work is informed by both the inward and the outward,
by things observed, and things that cannot be observed.
By entangled forms found naturally or unnaturally
in the body, in nature, in everyday objects; and
equally by chance and feeling.
Process oriented and gestural, these abstractions entice
the viewer's subjectivity, while allowing me the freedom to access
a wider range of resources both physical and emotional.
I start a painting or a series of paintings with a simple thought or inspiration. I don't usually sketch it out first. I prefer to tackle the canvas all at once and let the materials and process of painting dictate the direction. I work on up to five things at once. I'm an observer and am usually looking at something while I paint. I try to keep myself emotionally connected to the specific object or memory I begin with, but painting has a way of prescribing its own journey. Success would mean that I've allowed the painting to take me someplace unexpected while maintaining some hint of my original intention.
I'm interested in posing a question rather than an answer, and I prefer to evoke the feeling of a thing rather than make a statement about it. I'm interested in the process of making, in paint, color, line, handwork, women's work, repetition, knitting, sewing, braiding, rope making... entangled forms found naturally or unnaturally in the body, nature, or everyday objects; and equally in chance and feeling.
My work is about connections; the intertwining and overlapping of the physical, spiritual, metaphorical. The connection of shapes and color, form to form, body to body, mind to mind.
|Momento (ribbon), 2017, oil on paper, 33.5 x 38.5 inches|
|Momento (#2), 2017, oil on paper, 33.5 x 38 inches|
|Momento (#3), 2017, oil on paper, 37.5 x 33.5 inches|
|Momento (pink), 2017, oil on paper, 31.5 x 41 inches|
|Momento (#5), 2017, oil on paper, 33.5 x 37.5 inches|
|Chuck Close, Big Self-Portrait, 1967–1968|
acrylic on gessoed canvas
107.5 x 83.5 inches
"It seems to me now, with greater reflection, that the value of experiencing another person’s art is not merely the work itself, but the opportunity it presents to connect with the interior impulse of another. The arts occupy a vanishing space in modern life: They offer one of the last lingering places to seek out empathy for its own sake, and to the extent that an artist’s work is frustrating or difficult or awful, you could say this allows greater opportunity to try to meet it. I am not saying there is no room for discriminating taste and judgment, just that there is also, I think, this other portal through which to experience creative work and to access a different kind of beauty, which might be called communion."
Rothenberg begins with negation, cleaving away all that’s inessential, then reaches forward and backward in time, gathering whatever she needs, probing inward toward formalism and outward toward experience, one hand in the clay and the other in the air.In a career that spans over 40 years, expectedly there are some paintings I am much more in love with than others so here I present some of my absolute favorites...
|Dogs Killing Rabbit, 1991-92, oil on canvas, 87 x 141 inches|
|Accident #2, 1993-94, oil on canvas, 66 x 125 inches|
|Calling the dogs, 1993-94, oil on canvas, 69 x 65 inches|
|With Martini, 2002, oil on canvas, 76 x 87 inches|
|Blue Flip, 1989-90, oil on canvas, 55 x 46 inches|
|White Deer, 1999-2001, oil on canvas, 91 1/2 x 112 inches|
|Blue U-Turn, 1989, oil on canvas|
|Galisteo Creek, 1992, oil on canvas, 112 x 148 inches|
|Falling, 2001, oil on canvas, 84 x 72 inches|
|Four Color Horse, 1976, acrylic and flashe on canvas, 67 x 112 inches|
|4 Kinds, 1991, oil on canvas, 52 x 88 inches|
|Dog and Snake, 2004-05, oil on canvas, 49 3/4 x 36 1/2 inches|
|Untitled (Geese), 1999, Etching, aquatint, and sugar-lift aquatint on chine collé, 13 11/16 x 20 1/2 inches|
|The Corner, 2008, oil on canvas, 71 x 57 inches|
|Crying, 2003, 5 color lithograph/screenprint, 34 x 35 inches|
|Steak and Wine, 2000, oil on canvas, 81 x 91 inches|
|[I've searched all morning for the title of this painting. If anyone knows the image details please let me know]|
|Hawk, 1993-94, oil on canvas, 37 5/8 x 63 5/8 inches|
|Susan Rothenberg in her studio|
#7. “Expect anything worthwhile to take a long time.”
... As I’ve reflected elsewhere, the flower doesn’t go from bud to blossom in one spritely burst and yet, as a culture, we’re disinterested in the tedium of the blossoming. But that’s where all the real magic unfolds in the making of one’s character and destiny.Although she was referring more to success in life, I'm talking about patience in the studio. My work may be process oriented, aka 'the tedium of the blossoming', but that doesn't make me any more patient. Lately I've been forcing myself to think about it more and more.
|one of four smaller paintings still very much in progress|
"Applebroog produced editions of 400 copies cheaply, and mailed them off to friends or acquaintances, or to artists whose work she admired. Eleanor Antin's postcards, graffiti by Jean-Michel Basquiat or Keith Haring, or Jenny Holzer's sheets of "truisms," pasted on bus stops, alongside notices of yoga lessons, kittens, or second-hand furniture for sale, are other examples of not-for-profit artworks, ingeniously and anonymously distributed, through which, without that having been precisely their intention, the artists all became famous."*