Strange Love Letters

February 15, 2017

"Alas! Alas! Silence or sound, there is no substitute."

--from the love letters of Lauren Kindle

Envelopes As Art

In honor of Valentine's Day, today's blog post features love letters. I have always regarded envelopes as blank canvases, and I'm not alone. In the book Illustrated Letters: Artists and Writers Who Correspond, you can see the painted letters and envelopes of great artists such as Picasso and Corot. If you are local, I would be happy to loan you my copy of this book.

Reading through my old letters was a wild ride. Who writes "alas!" more than once in a sentence? Me. I do. Or I did when I was twenty, anyway. I credit my successful conquest of Ian not so much with the artistic quality of these letters, but with the sheer quantity and intensity of my correspondence.

There are dozens of letters, enough to fill a few boxes in our attic, and most of them are too embarrassing and private to share publicly. I'll just share a few excerpts, to give a hint at the contents of the envelopes.

Dearest, sweetest, most beloved man...

So close, so sweet, so dear to me. Am I writing a letter to my own heart?

Are you reading the words written by your very Soul?

I wish you were a jeweled, Byzantium cloak . I would wrap you around my shoulders to keep warm.

You are a beautiful, enchanted spring in a magical forest in which I am completely lost and thirsty, but drinking your water transforms me...

Only at night can I resume my human form, but I can never leave the forest.

Just as Psyche, a mere mortal woman, went trembling into the garden into the arms of the unknown, and found to her ecstasy that she embraced Eros, the god of love himself, so I found myself when I found you.

I became a goddess when you gave me your love.

You are a fair and adventurous sky over the ocean.

I love you with such passion-- If I let go of this pen my body would fly into heaven.

I listen to music night and day, vainly trying to fill the emptiness of your absence.

Alas! Alas! Silence or sound, there is no substitute.

How can you do this to me?

My pen is alive and insane! It will not stop-- my heart flows through it.

Maybe someday we will hear the Music of the Spheres together.

Maybe we will make children together.

I hope and I wish...I will be rash enough, brave enough, foolish enough, insane with holy love...

Perhaps I shall ask you to marry me...

Love,

Lauren

Further Reading

Lovesick Teenage Diary (more silly romance)

Travel Sketchbook (a painted envelope from Mexico)

No Blog Today (Just Missing Lida)

February 8, 2017

My mother-in-law, Lida, passed away yesterday. I don't have the heart or energy to write a blog post this week. I'll just share a few photos of her.

A few weeks ago, my 10-year daughter spent some time reading a book to her sick Grammy. — A few weeks ago, my 10-year daughter spent some time reading a book to her sick Grammy.

Here is a picture of Lida holding her newest grandchild, Sullivan, back in September, 2016.

A fairy-tea-party in Grammy's yard with four happy grandchildren, a few years ago.

Many years ago, a young Lida holds her first son, Ian.  (Ian is my husband, now 42 years old!) — Many years ago, a young Lida holds her first son, Ian. (Ian is my husband, now 42 years old!)

Rest in peace, Lida. I miss you so much already!

Studying Artists

February 1, 2017

"While I am working, I think about finishing a piece in a wonderful way that will show what I can do—at 91."

--Doe Levan, 91 year old art student

There is a great photography exhibit currently at the Baum School of Art in Allentown, PA, and it closes next Wednesday, February 8th. Studying Artists: Portraits of Baum School Art Students, is a collection of large format photographic portraits by Marco Calderon. It's worth going to see this show, and not just because I happen to be one of the subjects! (So cool!) Accompanying each portrait is a little text, words spoken by each student during the interview/ photo-shoot. It's cool to see how art, learning, and community are interconnected. The show is also a lovely homage to the Baum School. I feel very grateful to have taken two really wonderful figure drawing classes at Baum. I benefited both from the instruction, and from the environment. It's just so inspiring to be surrounded by other artists from different walks of life.

I've included a small "teaser" of the show here in my blog, but you really must see it in person if you can. The photos are much larger than your computer or phone screen, and there are many more portraits than I can fit here. I feel very lucky to have been part of this project. Thank you, Marco!

"Art, for me, is making stuff and expressing myself. My mom always likes when I make art."

--Alex "Junior" Peque

Studying Art Since 2015, Media: Drawing & Painting, Graphic Design

"Art is something that makes the world better, makes it more friendly, it gives people another way to look at the world rather than so many finite ideas. It creates another dimension in life."

-- Bruce Fritzinger

Studying Art for 40 years, Media: Ceramics

Black Lives Matter

January 25, 2017

"Black Lives Do Matter, For We Too, Are America!"

--Charles Stonewall (visual artist and friend)

#blacklivesmatter 1, oil on board, from the collection of Melissa and Renee Amator

Over the past four months, I have been working on a series of six paintings called #blacklivesmatter. They are still-lifes of fisher price dolls arranged in positions which emphasize white indifference to black death. This troubling issue has been in the news far too frequently lately. Indifference, and the ability to look away, are privileges that white people have. But it doesn't have to be that way! That is why each painting shows a white doll at the point of turning, sadly, to face the problem. Acknowledging that there is a problem is the first step towards fixing it!

#blacklives matter 2, oil on canvas mounted on board, 5x7" commissioned by Carol Reed (guest blog-post contributor!)

Thanks to the people who encouraged this project and bought the paintings, I was able to raise $400 to donate. Half of it went to blacklivesmatter.com, a national organization, and half of it went to the local NAACP. But more than money, the intent of this project was to raise awareness and compassion in my community. I'm also pleased to publish (below) two guest blog post contributions, thoughtful opinion-pieces from friends I admire and respect.

#blacklivesmatter3, oil on board, commissioned by Sally Huxley

Thoughts from Carol Reed:

"As a black woman, I, like a lot of mainstream America, was a bit confused regarding the "black lives matter" movement in the beginning. I noted the ongoing violence, and black-on-black crimes, happening in mostly poor inner cities. It was not until I discussed this in depth with a close friend, that I came to realize that most crimes are committed against people of the same race due to the fact that these are the people with whom they reside and interact on a daily basis. In addition to this, there are a multitude of socioeconomic factors that contribute to criminal behavior in particular communities such as disparities in housing, education and sentencing guidelines in the criminal justice system.

However, the main chord in the black lives movement is how some blacks are treated by the people who are supposed to protect them in time of need, the police.

The deaths of black suspects being pursued, or even just questioned by police officers, are in stark contrast to those who are not black, facing similar situations. The #blacklivesmatter painting, by Lauren Kindle, accurately portrays how the majority of America chooses to ignore the fact that blacks are dying at the hands of those who were sworn to protect them!"

#blacklivesmatter 4, oil on board, 5x7", commissioned by Karen Neuman (owner of Nature's Way health food store in Easton)

Thoughts from Charles Stonewall:

Black Lives Do Matter, For We Too, Are America!

For me, the idea and meaning behind Black Lives Matter isn't just about killing someone like me with their hands up or pulling us over while driving without probable cause, but to me, BLM is also about continually being ignored and denied the same luxurious opportunities as white individuals. As a human race, we all experience rejection at one time or another, but it is particularly more prevalent for people of color than those without any hue. Far too many whites are either spiteful or clueless to our experience in the workplace, especially when it comes to possible opportunities for advancement or leadership positions.

blacklivesmatter 5, oil on canvas, 5x7", from the collection of Audrey Kantner, a children's librarian at the Easton Area Public Library.

As a Black man, I see and feel more of the disparity along my path than others will ever experience or ever fully notice. I am but one, but I am with millions of other Black Lives that are well aware of social injustice and the importance of speaking out with a compelling voice…a voice that knows the repercussions of unfavorable or unfortunate acts, as well as notable achievements and success. Black Lives do Matter, for we too are America and we all have so much to offer!!!

2017 - Charles F. Stonewall, Visual Artist

Additional Thanks:

Also I'd like to thank Judie Dickerson (very active volunteer for the Cops 'n' Kids program in Easton) and Lisa Eckley Cocchiarale for purchasing #blacklivesmatter prints. All purchases, original art and prints, went towards raising money for the national blacklivesmatter.com and the local NAACP. Thank you!

Blog readers are encouraged to participate in this discussion by leaving their respectful comments below.

Yeats and Sargent are Dead

January 18, 2017

"Let the Irish vessel lie

Emptied of its poetry."

--w.h. auden, after his friend Yeats was buried

Charcoal portrait of the poet W.B. Yeats, by John Singer Sargent

When I see Sargent's charcoal portrait of Yeats, I am struck with a strange sadness. Both men are dead. They died long before I was born. No more poems. No more paintings. Forever.

No amount of yearning could ever allow me to reach my hand through the flimsy curtains of time, so that I might touch Yeats's smooth, youthful brow, or run my fingers down his long, beautiful neck. I'll never stand behind John Singer Sargent, watching him paint, his face radiant with concentration as he works. He probably wouldn't even notice me anyway, as I hover anxiously at his elbow, hoping to learn something from the wild sweeping movements of his paintbrush.

I think I'm supposed to write something beautiful, about how we really only have the present, these precious moments of life, and how we should be mindful of them, and use them well. And how it's such a good thing to leave paintings and poetry behind you for other people to appreciate, to help ease their own slow journeys to the grave.

But I'm not really feeling like that this morning. I'm just sad. I'm sad people have to die.

"Street in Venice" an oil painting by John Singer Sargent

She sings as the moon sings:

'I am I, am I;

The greater grows my light

The further that I fly.'

All creation shivers

With that sweet cry.

--Yeats (excerpt from "He and She")

Lovesick Teenage Diary: art and angst

January 11, 2017

"On Monday we had a male model, and it was the first time I had ever seen a naked man. I was actually quite excited and a good deal anxious...due to all the enthusiastic praise and boasts I had heard from classmates...

Boy, what a major disappointment I had."

--my diary, July 8, 1998 (age 17)

Here is a photo of me, sketching on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art during a high school field trip.  I'm about 17, I'm guessing. — Here is a photo of **me,** sketching on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art during a high school field trip. I'm about 17, I'm guessing.

Lately, I've been listening to a lot of podcasts while painting in my studio, and one of my favorites is "Mortified." It's a storytelling project where adults read pages of their actual diaries from childhood and adolescence. It's so good!

This gave me the idea to delve into my own diaries to look for some "mortifying" blog post material. There is a lot of embarrassing stuff in my diaries, which I have kept diligently since the first grade. I found some art-related writing from high school, but first, I had to wade through pages and pages of this kind of thing:

More diary entries:

February 1998

In case you don't remember, I am still madly in love with Zack Jones*. I always have been. Every day my love grows stronger, yet I burden only you with this secret. I am like Helena.**

Without Zack, living is reduced to a very small thing...

I always love Zack, and draw, unwillingly, his beautiful features upon my heart...

Dearest God, I love Zack so much that it overflows and spills out in great puddles over the rest of the world...for this love I would chop off all my limbs or walk across fire, or give my life. I probably would not gouge out my eyes, and I definitely would not sell my soul. But it's close.

*not his real name (this poor guy never had a clue about my major crush on him)

** Helena is a lovesick character from All's Well That Ends Well by Shakespeare.

Here's a photo of me in high school.  I'm proudly holding onto a piece of some scenery I painted for the school play, "Arsenic and Old Lace."  (#dramaclub #theatergeek) — Here's a photo of me in high school. I'm proudly holding onto a piece of some scenery I painted for the school play, "Arsenic and Old Lace." (#dramaclub #theatergeek)

April 21, 1998...

Monotony! Everything is monotony!! I sink lower and lower into the slime of non-life and soon I shall be dead. I crave life and action and faraway places...and LOVE!! My heart is heavy with this imminent something.

Although I suffered the torments of a melodramatic adolescence, I was able to find sanctuary in Art. I had a wonderful, encouraging art teacher: Mrs. Victor. That summer, thanks to Mrs. Victor, I got a scholarship to take a month-long figure drawing class for teens at the Moore College of Art & Design in Philadelphia. I felt very independent, taking the train into the city every day by myself. I wrote about my experience:

July 8, 1998

Today was my third day of life drawing class at Moore. I'm learning a lot about the human body and how to draw it. Our model didn't show up today, so the teacher made us draw a skeleton instead. Then everyone voted to walk to the Rodin Museum and sketch. It was gray and cold and raining steadily, and was exactly the type of rain which is unpleasant to go walking in.

On Monday we had a male model, and it was the first time I had ever seen a naked man. I was actually quite excited and a good deal anxious. I couldn't stop thinking about what one would look like, because I had never seen one. I sort of had the impression of something beautiful, magical, and awe inspiring, due to all the enthusiastic praise and boasts I had heard from classmates...

Boy, what a major disappointment I had...Oh well. Some things are not as good as people make them out to be. I should learn to recognize exaggerations when I hear them.

But how was I supposed to know? It was a complete shock.

Here is a charcoal drawing I did in that Moore class, so long ago.  It's too bad, I couldn't find the naked man drawing that I wrote about.  Perhaps, in my state of "shock," I threw it away... — Here is a charcoal drawing I did in that Moore class, so long ago. It's too bad, I couldn't find the naked man drawing that I wrote about. Perhaps, in my state of "shock," I threw it away...

PS. I never wrote about Zack Jones again. A few pages later, I had a new crush.

Vinnie Ream

January 4, 2017

"My work has never been labor, but an ecstatic delight to my soul. I have worked in my studio not envying kings in their splendor; my mind to me was my kingdom, and my work more than diamonds and rubies."

--Vinnie Ream

(from an address given to the International Council of Women, Toronto Canada, 1909)

Over the holidays, I stumbled across an interesting book on my mother-in-law's bookshelf: Vinnie Ream: the Story of the Girl Who Sculpted Lincoln by Gordon Langley Hall. For the next several hours, I squirreled myself away in a back room, mesmerized by this incredible woman's story, which I had never known before!

Vinnie Ream was born in a log cabin in Wisconsin in 1847. She had a very interesting childhood and the good fortune to attend Christian College in Columbia, Missouri (up to age twelve, girls could attend the section known as the Academy.) Here she studied the harp, banjo, guitar, and harpsichord. She also took up painting and ultimately decided she wanted to be a sculptress. She confided her dream to Congressman Rollins, an important college visitor who was very impressed by Vinnie's artistic talent. When she left Christian College at age twelve, the President gave her a clipping with this quotation from Robert Hall (English minister and writer) which she kept with her for her entire life:

No man can ever become eminent in anything,

unless he work at it with an earnestness bordering on enthusiasm.

close-up of Vinnie's most famous statue of Abraham Lincoln

Her family moved to Washington DC when Vinnie was nearly fifteen. On the day they arrived in the city, Vinnie saw Abraham Lincoln himself, walking through the crowded street. She was struck by "the lines of sadness on his face." Vinnie got a job at the Post Office to help support her family.

She loved wandering around DC, admiring the architecture and art. One day, when she was exploring the Rotunda of the Capitol, she ran into Congressman Rollins, who had encouraged her artistic dreams years before. He introduced her to Clark Mills, then the foremost sculptor in America. She ended up becoming his student.

When Lincoln heard about the poor Post Office clerk who had been accepted as a pupil by Clark Mills, he was intrigued. He allowed her to come and try and mold his likeness in clay, as he sat at his desk. As it happened, Vinnie was the last artist Lincoln posed for before his assassination. Shortly afterwards, Vinnie became the youngest person and first woman to receive a commission as an artist from the United States government for a statue, the statue of Lincoln. She was nineteen years old!

oil painting by George Peter Alexander Healy

Once the government approved her initial plaster model, Vinnie was able to travel many places, including Florence. When she was in Italy, she studied sculpture and picked out the marble for her statue. She met the painter George Peter Alexander Healy during her Italian travels, and he painted her portrait, with her hand on her guitar. (above)

Vinnie went on to have a very full life as a successful, professional, working artist, with one major obstacle: her husband. When she was 31, she finally got married (very late in life, in those days) to a soldier named Richard Hoxie. Richard believed it was the husband's job to earn money, and he forbade his new wife to work any more, except as a hobby. Vinnie obeyed him, but she sorely missed her work. However, after many years (and the birth of a son), Vinnie became unwell and very sad, and her husband relented. She was then able to work as a sculptress until her death at age 67. On her grave, her husband placed the statue of Sappho, which she had created.

My work has never been labor, but an ecstatic delight to my soul.

--Vinnie Ream

Thanks for reading my blog! I hardly did justice in my short blog post to all of the fascinating details of this woman's life. I recommend reading the book, Vinnie Ream by Gordon Langley Hall. In fact, if you want to read it, express your interest in the comments below. I will pick a name at random next week (January 10) and I will mail my copy of the book to the winner, for free! I'll even write a special secret note inside of it...

PS. If you like reading about amazing women artists from history, please check out my blog post: Divine Passion: Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun. I also wrote a little bit about Camille Claudel, another female sculptor from history, in my blog post: "When We Dead Awaken."

Women Alone By Windows

December 28, 2016

"...love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you...

the space around you is beginning to grow vast..."

--Rainer Maria Rilke

"The Maid in the Kitchen" by Anna Archer

"The First Daffodils, Girl from Laren" by Max Metzoldt — "The First Daffodils, Girl from Laren" by Max Metzoldt

"The Open Window" by Jean Edouard Vuillard — "The Open Window" by Jean Edouard Vuillard

“It seems to me that almost all our sadnesses are moments of tension, which we feel as paralysis because we no longer hear our astonished emotions living. Because we are alone with the unfamiliar presence that has entered us; because everything we trust and are used to is for a moment taken away from us; because we stand in the midst of a transition where we cannot remain standing. That is why the sadness passes: the new presence inside us, the presence that has been added, has entered our heart, has gone into its innermost chamber and is no longer even there, - is already in our bloodstream. And we don't know what it was. We could easily be made to believe that nothing happened, and yet we have changed, as a house that a guest has entered changes. We can't say who has come, perhaps we will never know, but many signs indicate that the future enters us in this way in order to be transformed in us, long before it happens. And that is why it is so important to be solitary and attentive when one is sad: because the seemingly uneventful and motionless moment when our future steps into us is so much closer to life than that other loud and accidental point of time when it happens to us as if from outside. The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes our fate.”

--Rainer Maria Rilke

More paintings of Women Alone By Windows can be found on my Pinterest Board by that name.

If you liked this blog post, you might also like "Sorrow and Art."

Birth Day

December 21, 2016

"Love is all around you. Love is within you. You have created me as surely as I have created you."

--my diary, December 2006

I painted "The Fullness of Time" (acyrlic on canvas 24x24" 2006), shortly before my daughter was born.

Today, December 21, is my daughter's birthday! She is ten years old! I can't believe it! (As it happens, my birthday is tomorrow, on the 22nd, so my daughter and I almost-share birthdays.) I named her "Nell," which means "cloud" in Scots Irish (according to some baby name book). Her middle name is Aurora, which means "dawn," because she was born at dawn.

Nell was born in my grandmother's house in New Jersey, where Ian (my husband) and I were living at the time. (Read more about Grandmommy in my blog post, "Ten Years and a Teapot.") Here is a picture I drew in my diary: Grandmommy is eating a cookie and holding her brand-new infant great-granddaughter on her lap. I really like her gesture and I think it would make a fun painting.

Here is an excerpt from my diary describing the birth:

It didn't take long for me to realize it was happening...I fell into the moment like it was a deep, magical pool. I felt so loved and supported... the birth transcended all sense of time, the old reality slipped away...I remember walking around the upstairs...holding tightly onto Ian's hands and arms...I felt like he was holding me and I was in a deep ocean. The pain was great, but it was beautiful too. I found myself smiling a lot...

Afterwards, Dina [the midwife]...placed the baby on my chest. She started to make little cries right away, like a little lamb. Her eyes were wide open, almond-shaped...looking all around, looking at me. She was so beautiful. I fell into a thousand, thousand, infinite fathoms of love. I was so happy, so exhausted, so tired, so transformed. I felt like a whole new person. I felt exquisitely beautiful.

Perfect little one, filled with love, swaddled in love.

Love is all around you. Love is within you.

You have created me as surely as I have created you.

Love, love, love.

May your days be filled with love.

I made this little sketch of my sleepy daughter two days ago.  Almost ten!  Time passes fast. — I made this little sketch of my sleepy daughter two days ago. Almost ten! Time passes fast.

Kerry James Marshall: Mastry

December 14, 2016

"They are uncompromising in terms of the presentation of their blackness. They are uncompromising."

--Kerry James Marshall

Last week, Elizabeth Snelling and I took the bus into New York City to see the Kerry James Marshall: Mastry exhibit at the Met Breuer. (Go see it! It closes January 29th, 2017.) The exhibit was so incredibly rich and full of paintings that I will make no attempt to summarize it. I will just share a few of the paintings and some of my thoughts. I also highly recommend listening to this short interview to hear the artist talk about his art and his process.

Elizabeth looks at "Untitled (Mirror Girl)" by Kerry James Marshall (2014)

In "Untitled (Mirror Girl)," the Black woman is holding her large breasts and smiling, or perhaps leering, at the viewer, standing nearly nude on a pile of discarded clothing. Nothing submissive or demure about her, so unlike the thousands of nudes we have come to expect from art history.

detail of "Beauty Examined" acrylic and collage by Kerry James Marshall, 1993

"Beauty Examined" is just that, a brutal examination of "beauty," as it is is manifested in a Black woman's body. Every part of her is labeled, numbered, and judged. Her skin is sliced off, and she might as well be a corpse. It is hard to look at this image.

"...if I can't perceive within myself enough value in my image, or the image of black women, or construct the desire to represent that image as an ideal, then that's my problem, ultimately." --Kerry James Marshall

Me, taking in "Could This Be Love," 1992, acrylic and collage on canvas, by Kerry James Marshall

So much was going on in each painting! Sometimes the paintings were horrific in their subject matter (slavery, murder, etc.), but other times they were just ordinary, intimate scenes full of loving and intriguing details. A lot of the paintings were narratives of Black romance and domesticity. The men and women wooed each other, or told jokes, or cut each other's hair. I tried to create stories in my mind to explain the feelings and relationships portrayed (the woman taking off her red dress, for instance...is her mind elsewhere?) but I knew in my heart that there was a boundary between me and the paintings, which not even my imagination could cross. I could look, but not enter, these private worlds.

I loved "Slow Dance," a tender painting of a couple dancing in their living room, enveloped by music. For some reason, one of my favorite details was the outlet and the electrical cord plugged into a wall covered in rose wall-paper. Roses and outlets, music and string beans... The mundane objects of daily life become permeated, and ennobled, by Romance.

detail of "Slow Dance," a painting by Kerry James Marshall(You can see it's just a large canvas nailed to the wall, unstretched and unframed, like many of his paintings.) — detail of "Slow Dance," a painting by Kerry James Marshall
(You can see it's just a large canvas nailed to the wall, unstretched and unframed, like many of his paintings.)

I especially loved these two paintings of Black women artists. They are beautiful and proud, with amazing hairdos! Standing before each of these paintings was like standing in the presence of a Queen or a Goddess.

The Goddess of Painting...

Seriously, this show is so good. I haven't even scratched the surface of it! Please go and see it for yourself if at all possible. As for me, it's after midnight, and I have to call this blog post finished, or as finished as it can be, realistically. I'm going to bed now, to dream, perhaps, of another Kerry James Marshall painting...

"...I have to figure out how to project the image that I want to see represented in the world,

with the same kind of force, with the same kind of complexity, with the same kind of integrity."

--Kerry James Marshall

Virgil's Muse

December 7, 2016

"...not what happened, just the way

I imagine it."

--Margaret Campbell, excerpt from her poem, "Virgil's Muse"

"Woman Covered with Flowers, Reading" (1845) Corot

Virgil’s Muse

I remember you drawing,

one hand on the pencil,

the other hand, pressed

against your forehead,

your body curved.

A bare foot peered out

from a crocheted Afghan

gathering the stellar

distances of light

as if toes can

discern the yes

in eyes.

Having lost sight

of a swallow returning,

you abandoned the sky,

devoured the rocky, tree-lined horizon

to find yourself

perched

on a window sill,

your hair in flowers,

an anjou pear

beside you

forever resting on a bruise

its shadow pouring

over the edge

of your sketchbook,

not what happened, just the way

I imagine it.

A note about the poem:

A few days ago, I received an email from Margaret (Peggy) Campbell. In the email, she referred to my last blog post, "Pears." She also included the Corot painting ("Woman Covered With Flowers, Reading") and her original poem, "Virgil's Muse," which she allowed me to publish today. I thought her email would be of interest to those of you who enjoy following the long threads of inspiration, those intimate places where ideas touch, the secret spaces where poetry and paintings are born...

Hi Lauren,

I want to thank you for your posting about pears... What I want to say is that your painting of the pear with the flower in the glass jar helped me to write the attached poem for the sixteen-year old daughter of an old friend of mine. This poem is also connected to Corot's "Woman Covered with Flowers, Reading" (1845)...

During a period when I could not see, I made a collection of painted and collaged "telescopes," and I inserted the poem into one of those telescopes, with a tiny copy of your pear over the telescope's end....sort of like looking at the moon, and seeing a pear.

Nice to see you at the gallery. I am terrible at gallery openings. In the presence of art, I find it impossible to speak.

Yours,

"Wind-ravaged tulip" oil painting by Lauren Kindle (the painting that helped inspire the poem)

Pears

November 30, 2016

"Slice a pear and you will find that its flesh is incandescent white.

It glows with inner light. Those who carry a knife and a pear are never afraid of the dark."

--Yann Martel, Beatrice & Virgil

What does a pear taste like?

I must have one.

To eat a pear is akin to . . . kissing.

I wish you had a pear.

And if I had one, I would give it to you.

Read the whole passage about the pear, an excerpt from the novel Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel. It can also be found on the publisher's website. I wanted to put the whole thing here, but the publisher's permission form was a little too daunting and time-consuming. I'm quite lacking in patience and self-control, when it comes to pears. The most I can hope for is that I will resist devouring them until the painting is complete.

Letters To A Young Artist

November 23, 2016

"Think of yourself as a professional, always."

--Elizabeth Snelling

The first letter: October 1, 2010

Hi Lauren,

I worked with Ian on the EAC*...I'd love to see your paintings....I love your house- I walk along that path a lot.

Nice to meet you.

--Elizabeth

*Environmental Advisory Council of Easton (Ian is my husband, an environmental educator)

Author's Note: My husband Ian and I had moved to Easton with our newborn daughter in March, 2007. While Ian got involved with the community through his job at the Delaware Canal State Park, I retreated into the warm cocoon of motherhood, completely wrapped up with domestic life and all of its intimate details, which included the birth of a second baby in 2010. Although I had a network of friends (other stay-at-home moms) I was in some ways very isolated and out of touch with my dreams of being an artist. I was unaware of the art community around me. This might explain why it took me THREE YEARS to respond to Elizabeth's first letter.

October 1, 2013

Hi Elizabeth,

...I've been thinking of asking you for a while, if you ever have any free moments, I would love to have a conversation with you about art. (I see above you sent me a message 3 years ago that i didn't respond to...my only excuse was having a new baby, I guess.) Next time you are walking by my house, you could pop in for a cup of tea and some chit chat.

I'm just getting out of an intense period of being totally absorbed by my young children, and I'm really missing painting, and wondering how to get back into it. I know you have kids and I was thinking you might have some wisdom or a few words of inspiration.

--Lauren

October 1, 2013

Hi Lauren,

So nice to hear from you... Walk yourself down to the Lafayette art center on the corner...on Thursday evening at 7pm with a large page and some charcoal and kneaded erasers, and they have a nude model for 3 hours for free. It's the best way to get back your "hand". I go off and on, but it's a great practice for anyone. They have lots of supplies there but you should bring your own- large paper is best, pencils, pastels, brush and ink: whatever you like. Go for it.

Or I did small still lifes at home, but you know how hard that is- I also went to the Art Students League, when I lived in the city. If you have a sitter, sign up for a class at the Baum School in Allentown.

Good luck, it's worth it.

--Elizabeth

Dear Elizabeth,

Fantastic! thanks for the advice. I've been meaning to go to those thursday nights, but I always lose my momentum. i'm going to do it next week for sure. Thanks again!

--Lauren

One of my early attempts to draw the figure at the Thursday Night Lafayette Community Figure Drawing.charcoal and watercolor on paper — *One of my early attempts to draw the figure at the Thursday Night Lafayette Community Figure Drawing.*
*charcoal and watercolor on paper*

Author's note: I took Elizabeth's advice and started going to the free figure drawing sessions. It was such a gift to have those available, because at the time I had absolutely NO disposable income, and coming up with the standard $10 would have been impossible for me. At the drawing sessions, I connected with other artists who inspired me and gave me helpful critique. Some of them encouraged me to seek out serious teachers, which I did.

February 6, 2015

Lauren,

Have you ever worked with gouache?

--Elizabeth

February 6, 2015

Dear Elizabeth,

A little bit... not very seriously. I haven't been satisfied with it. But I love Chagall's gouache paintings, and yours as well. Maybe I bought a too-cheap variety of gouache...

I'm so enchanted by oils right now, and how long they take to dry, that I have a hard time with gouache, which feels less sexy. But I think it would be good for me to play around with, and have more fun with color and composition, and be less worried about technique...Your paintings do look luscious, I'm not sure I could get gouache to look like that. It feels flat.

--Lauren

February 6, 2015

Dear Lauren,

It's a great medium. I, and most people, learn to handle it in design school. But with some practice you can. Positives: it's cheaper than oils and very portable, cleans up with water but has a much more interesting surface than acrylic paint and it isn't such a bitch as watercolor-unforgiving and mean spirited, in my opinion- meaning I suck at it. And, like oil , you can work on top forever. Give it a go. I love what you're doing!

Acrylic gouache is ok. I've been using it. Old fashion gouache is like silk panties......more trouble, but wow.

--Elizabeth

February 7, 2015

Dear Elizabeth,

What is acrylic gouache? I didn't go to design or art school...I wish I had. I didn't realize I had this burning passion to paint until this past June. It seems like most artists with kids already had a lot of art study and art-career-building under their belts before they had a family, so I'm really struggling with how to make it happen now that I'm at a later stage in life. It's not in the cards for me to go back to school right now...maybe in a few years...but I just can't wait that long! I am dreaming about painting at night....

Morgan is at preschool right now. He goes two mornings a week, so I can paint from 10-12 two days a week...that's not much! Plus whatever weekends/evenings I can squeeze in, but so much family stuff competes. But instead of painting right now, I am looking at the disaster of my house that is a messy kitchen, Morgan's bed with pee in it, tons of laundry....it's so hard to prioritize painting even though I want to do it so badly.

--Lauren

"Polka-Dot Shower Curtain" by Elizabeth Snelling

February 7, 2015

Dear Lauren,

Acrylic gouaches are a newish product that suspend the zinc and pigment (which make up gouache) in an acrylic matrix- more stable. It does not flake off the paper like old water base gouache sometimes did. Consider a class at the Art Students League ( short 3 day intensive), beg for baby sitting, or go to a class at the Baum school.

Or keep doing what you're doing. It's great. Ask questions. I had my kids home as well. I did go to art school, it's true, and went to school while they were small, but don't worry too much about working while they play!!

Author's Note: I continued to paint (including some gouache!) and draw as much as I could, and I was able to generate enough work for my first solo show at The Cosmic Cup coffeeshop in Easton, PA. I sent Elizabeth an invitation.

*One of my experiments with gouache on paper: "Summer Fruit."*

April 23, 2015

Hi Lauren,

I'm thrilled to hear that you are having a show AND you are working in gouache! Two great events.....

About edges...think of these as "the maker's hand" it shows your presence- like the writer's voice in a book. It is a creation on a flat surface, the presentation of a slice of someone's (Lauren's) mind, and the bits that extend onto the edges are a reminder of that. That said, it isn't necessary to be dramatic or always have that- you have to be careful not to make these marks distracting.

To wit, "abrash" is a word used in the study of rugs- Turkish, Anatolian, etc. that refers to the idea that only God can make something perfect so the maker would weave into the rug a piece or section that was slightly imperfect so as not to attempt to compete with God. It's part of the beauty of the piece and also an offering of humility and acknowledgment of our human limitations.

Now, on a practical note, some examples of how I handle this problem. Here is a recent crayon (oil pastel) self portrait I did that has sloppy edges. You can see how much better it looks with the edges left raw AND I will frame them so that the wiggle is left. The cropped versions lack liveliness, to me. Let me know what you think. You can send me your images, if you like.

Ask anything you like!

--Elizabeth

April 30, 2015

Dear Elizabeth,

Thank you so much for your email. I LOVE our correspondence. I keep printing out your emails and gluing them into my sketchbook. I agree, the sloppy edges are better! I personally love sloppy, messy art, and things that are super perfect drive me kind of nuts. And I'm glad I can use the authority of "abrash" to justify myself. I've been going to a few art shows, and noticing that it is pretty common for people to have raw edges of canvas that have some sloppy paint marks all around, and it doesn't seem to be a big deal...

My reception at Cosmic Cup will be Friday, May 29, from 5-7 pm...I want to give my show a name, and I was thinking about "Emerging" because that is the feeling I am having about art, that I myself am emerging...waking up, into the world of painting. Or maybe I'll think of a better name....Any ideas? I was told my show doesn't need a name, because it's a coffee shop, not a gallery, but I can't stop wanting one.

Anyway, I hope to show you some of my gouache experiments soon. I still haven't gotten a handle on using my time wisely, or being able to paint with my kids around. (They are so demanding! and lately very quarrelsome, but also sweet and loving. But always needing my attention.) But in Sept. when they are both in school all day, I plan to hit the ground running. I can't over-express my enthusiasm and joy about the idea of being able to paint all day, and have a serious studio practice.

From now until Sept. it will have to be more portable stuff that I can do here and there, take to the park, the river, wherever. That's why I'm so grateful for gouache. So, thanks!!!

Hope to talk to you soon!

--Lauren

April 30, 2015

Hello Lauren,

Every show is a show. Start your resume now and this cafe exhibit is an exhibit that gets full court press.

Your first solo....

I've written down the date and even if I don't make it to the opening I'll be there to see it at some point while it's up.

So happy things are well. Draw draw draw.

xox

Elizabeth

June 22, 2015

Elizabeth,

Thanks so much for driving all the way down to Easton to see me. I am thrilled and honored beyond measure. I appreciate all your feedback on my paintings, and I'm kind of amazed but so empowered by your belief in my potential, that my inner-whatever-it-is might actually be worth something. I mean, especially my narrative paintings, which I used to consider to be my self-indulgent, inferior work. I feel like you really understand what I am trying to say, maybe even better than I do.

I also appreciate your advice regarding money. The way you value your own artwork has made a big impression on me...Knowing that you have such a strong sense of the worth of your art makes it easier for me to put a high value on my own paintings.

I could go on and on listing the many things you said that helped me, but I won't bore you. Just know that I really enjoyed our coffee date, and I am having a LOT of fun looking at the artwork of the various artists you mentioned. Especially Florine Stettheimer. Wow!!

Anyway, I hope you have a fantastic, productive summer, and I'll be in touch. I'll send you some of my gouache-adventures once I have a good little collection going.

Your friend,

Lauren

June 22, 2015

Dear Lauren,

I was just thinking about what a beautiful day I had with you. Very inspired- we will do lots of things.

You have to give it away to keep it.

--Elizabeth

Author's Note: A recent message, just a couple months ago, after more than a year's lull in the correspondence...

September 6, 2016

Lauren, Coffee on Thursday?? --Elizabeth

Dear Elizabeth,

Omg! Yes! I'm crazy about you! See you soon! ---Lauren

Author's Note: I'm pleased beyond words to be able to invite you to Elizabeth Snelling: Still Lifes and Interiors, a solo show of Elizabeth's small paintings on paper, her work of the last three years The reception will be in my brand new studio, 7 B North Bank Street, Easton, PA, on Saturday, November 26, 2016, from 6-9 pm.

Click here for the Facebook Invitation.

"Follow what you enjoy."

--Elizabeth Snelling

Creativity Is Everything

November 16, 2016

"I court the unexpected. I nurture the happy accident.

Because I believe the truest and highest forms of beauty happen unexpectedly."

--Adriano Farinella

"Equilibria 30" oil on canvas, 24x48" 2015

a guest blog post written by Adriano Farinella

I’m a painter. I use the sky in my paintings as a metaphor for consciousness and approach painting clouds very much the same way as I would if I were painting someone's portrait. Clouds are in constant motion, always changing form and evolving, always beginning and ending simultaneously. That serves as a good reminder that we are in a similar state of change and evolution yet, we ultimately remain ourselves, even as we redefine our form or place in the world.

Contemplating and accepting that kind of impermanence can be very comforting or very disturbing depending on how grounded one is. I try to set up that sort of tension and comfort in the paintings.

There's not much that I don't consider beautiful or meaningful in the natural world and it's not difficult for me to be truly amazed by how powerful simplicity can be, but how difficult it is to simplify. That process alone motivates and inspires me every day in the studio. But for me, inspiration is mostly a slow and steady smoldering fire rather than a lightening flash, although the lightening flashes do happen once in a while.

Inspiration takes cultivating and I have to nurture it rather than wait for it. I have to be mentally and spiritually wide open and vulnerable yet focused and protective of a daily practice. So inspiration becomes more a way of living than a direct cause and effect relationship.

Cultivating that kind of inspiration is a practice- like everything is. And a practice is a sacred place. It’s a dialogue. And if you’re really present, you’re mostly the listener. If you think a creative practice is commanding something to bend to your will, you’re doing it wrong.

I’ve learned to always stand humbly in the face of creativity. It's a conversation--an exchange rather than a command. It's better to approach it graciously and have it unfold in layers than to barge in on it and try to force something to become what you want it to be. It wants what it wants. If you are making marks or decisions with the medium that are consistently not working then it’s a call from what you are creating that it wants something else. And you better listen to it. When you don’t, you foster an energy that breeds frustration and that can lead to killing your creative spirit by strangling it with harsh judgement.

I was having one of these moments once, when out of nowhere this little phrase just started playing on a loop in my mind:
“Every mark is the right mark, every mark is the right mark”.

When I really allow that phase to permeate every part of me and my studio, it has the ability to transform my perspective and can turn an absolute mess into more of an investigative mission to find the simple in the complicated.

"Equilibria 40, oil on canvas, 48x48", 2015

Building my life around creativity has taught me many things. I’ve learned that there’s never a time when the answer to the question: ‘what should I do to solve this?’ is ‘…make it more complicated’. The answer to that question is always, ‘simplify’. Painting is simple. But painting simply can be a very difficult thing.

None of us is born knowing who we are. Creativity can make you stop postponing who you need to be. Mostly because when you are fully engaged to or in a creative process, it’s very much about the moment you are in and nothing else. You are sort of compelled to move forward through the beautiful and sometimes painful paradox of needing to let go of a choice that you built every other choice around; where you learn the lesson that the foundation of a creative life is not a devotion to a craft or skill, rather it’s a devotion to detachment.

There's no such thing as going backwards when you’re fully in creativity. In my experience, even ‘backwards’ steps have forward momentum, in that, they may work to slowly awaken you, rather than jolt you awake.
Sometimes the slowness of a backwards step is the greatest gift you can give a choice you’re having a hard time making.

As artists, or creators, we all at some point seem to have this idea that whatever we are making, needs to be perfect before it’s released into the world or even before we accept it as our own. We want to make the perfect thing, perfectly.

There’s this illusion that what we are making is just sort of born there; without mistakes, without failure.

But that kind of perfectionism is a trap. It’s the anti-creativity. It’s this prison we build around what we make in an effort to save ourselves the humiliation of failing. But you can fail. You can fail elegantly and with grace. And within the creative process those failures are where profound insight lives and so the whole definition of ‘failure’ is transformed and reborn as purposeful forward momentum.

So much of the work that I consider successful in my career so far has been built on that kind of elegant failure, which really translates as a letting go of what I thought the outcome would be before I started and allowing whatever I’m creating to help in it’s own creation without getting in it’s way with ego and judgement.

"Remember This Moment" oil on canvas 30x40" 2009

There’s a great deal of letting go involved in the way I work. I can start out with an idea of what I want but it inevitably gets to a point in the process where what I want isn’t as important as what needs to happen for the greater good of the painting. I used to fight that and it made me miserable. But now, I court the unexpected. I nurture the happy accident. Because I believe the truest and highest forms of beauty happen unexpectedly.

I agree with the author, Paolo Coelho, who said, ‘Creativity is an act of courage’. I would add that Creativity is never finished. It’s an ongoing eternally sourced energy, infinite in its scope to restore, to guide, to enlighten, to transcend. and to override whatever it is in us that makes us think we can’t do something.

Creativity is power, but it’s not force. Creativity is an energy that stretches far beyond art. Creativity is a healer. And it can heal you by way of profoundly deconstructing you. I say let it. Let yourself be deconstructed. Creativity will build you again—Even with the smallest engagement. And in turn, it will connect you to every other creator, meaning every single other person who has gone thru anything at all and had to figure out a way thru it. They are part of you, and you are part of them. Creativity unifies.

Creativity deconstructs as well as it builds and it does so simultaneously. Which is why art making and life can sometimes feel chaotic and messy. But there's music in that mess. Creativity is an energy fed and sustained by the struggles within the process as well as by the resolutions.

Creativity is never finished. It’s a bridge to beauty—which itself is a bridge to a version of ourselves that we are born to reveal but that can take a lifetime of work and re-working to uncover.

Sometimes the most comforting words in the world are,

‘Work in Progress’.

Creativity is Everything.

You can listen to Adriano give his Pecha Kucha talk, recorded April 15, 2016. PechaKucha 20x20 is a simple presentation format where you show 20 images, each for 20 seconds. The images advance automatically and you talk along to the images. PechaKucha Nights are informal and fun gatherings where creative people get together and share their ideas, works, thoughts... -- just about anything, really -- in the PechaKucha format.

For further reading, here are some blog posts about Adriano's painting workshops:

Taking Notes

Everything Is Relative

Autumn Painting Workshop

Sorrow and Art

November 9, 2016

"But what is it then that sits in my heart, that breathes so quietly, and without lungs--

that is here, here in this world, and yet not here?"

--Mary Oliver, "The Leaf and the Cloud" (excerpt)

More sad art can be seen on my pinterest board, Very Sad Art.

Maggie Purcell

November 2, 2016

This weekend (November 5 and 6) is the Bacon Festival in Easton, PA. My Studio and Gallery will be open for the entire weekend, 10 am- 3pm both days. My friend and fellow artist, Maggie Purcell, will have four of her paintings on display (and for sale!) in my studio. Please come and take a look! Meet the artist herself on Saturday! The paintings will be on display until November 21st.

Maggie has written today's blog post: a short description of her path as an artist. Enjoy!

Maggie:

I have been painting and drawing since I was a young child. My mother realized that a "paint by number set" was a good tool to keep me out of mischief for many hours!

As a teenager, my Uncle, Frank Fischer, a northern New Jersey oil painter, noticed my drawing and painting abilities. He fostered my interest in oil painting. My painting style improved under his mentorship as well as my love of art. I credit my Uncle Frank for my foundation as an oil painter and being able to see art in all aspects of life.

I was born and raised in Somerville, NJ and now live in Frenchtown, N.J. I have a BA Degree in Fine Art from Kean University of New Jersey. At age 19 I began my career at Johnson and Johnson. I worked as a Senior Project Manager in Regulatory Compliance at Ethicon and a QA Unit Manager at Cordis before retiring in 2008 after 38 years.

Although my working career was not in the art field I have been an avid painter and student of art for the last 40 years. Most recently, I studied with local oil painters Frank Arcuri, Trisha Vergis, and Robert Beck. My style recently has evolved from illustrative to the “Old Master’s” under my tutelage with Frank Arcuri.

Note from Lauren: I can't resist adding a few more lovely paintings by Maggie. These won't be hanging in my studio this weekend, but you can enjoy them here on my blog!

Having an Artist Mom

October 26, 2016

a special guest blog post written and illustrated by my 9-year-old daughter, Nell

Having an artist mom is a combination of good and bad. Sometimes when dad is not here and mom paints, there is nothing to do. It is great to see the finished paintings...I like her art especially the landscapes. Having an artist mom is really cool. I brag that she won 2nd place in the Delaware River Arts Fest. Also her paintings are the best in the world. I'm glad that she became an artist. Sometimes it can be boring when she paints and I have no one to play with but mostly she lets me watch a show. She is the best mom in the world.

Me and my daughter, having a date at a cafe and being silly!

Autumn Painting Workshop

October 19, 2016

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun..."

--Keats, "To Autumn" (excerpt)

"Afternoon sunlight" oil on board, 8x10" October 2016 (painted on day 2 of my workshop)

This weekend, I got to experience my third plein air painting workshop with Adriano Farinella. The weather was gorgeous, golden, warm, and rich with autumn colors. Above is a painting I did in this recent workshop. It's interesting to compare it to the one below of the exact same view, which I did in my very first workshop, one year ago.

"Sunlit Slope" oil on board, 9x12" October 2015

The first day of our workshop, we set up our easels by the Delaware River in Scott Park. I had really spent the past year putting the techniques I had learned into plein-air-action (see my blog post Summer Landscapes) and so I was feeling ready to learn something new, and possibly take the next step, whatever that might be. Adriano suggested I focus on these goals:

Pay attention to the Edges in my paintings
Make Real Decisions (rather than suggestive, floaty "washes" with lots of medium)
Paint Thickly, without medium, making real commitment
Do what's best for the PAINTING
Expand my Green Vocabulary

"Train Trestle over the Delaware" oil on linen panel, 8x10" (painted on day 1 of my workshop)

"Expanding my Green Vocabulary" means going beyond the four greens I had been using religiously for the past year. For example, by adding some reds to them, I made them more mature. This was a little intimidating, because I felt really comfortable with those four greens. (A great Picasso quotation about Green can be found in my blog post, That Particular Green.)

My four comfy old greens:

ultramarine+winsor yellow
ultramarine +ochre
cerulean+winsor
cerulean +ochre (favorite!)

"Afternoon Greens" oil on linen panel, 8x10" (painted on day 1 of my workshop)

And now....... (drum roll),,,, Some new exciting greens:

Ultramarine + winsor +alizarin....but don't stick with it, play around
Cerulean+winsor+white = Bright Green....gray it out with some red
Cobalt+winsor = grass green
Cerulean + lemon + white = vivid accent color
Cerulean + ochre + orange or other neutral = so nice
Or take cerulean+ochre and add any old neutral (something lying around on my palette, whatever...)

But the take-away message I got was not to adhere to this list like dogma, but to be a little more fluid and intuitive in my green-mixing, letting myself experiment and have fun.

So I had a little green-party, and I forgot I was really painting anything at all, I just got really into making greens!

Some additional notes I took:

Orange and yellow aren't on top of the green, they are in it.
Over-paint the darks in the beginning, then slowly add the middle and light values.
Think about texture: avoid "brushstroke texture." Use the brush in a way that's not the usual way I use it.

"Morning at Clear Spring Farm" oil on board, 8x10" (painted on day 2 of my workshop)

On the second day of the workshop, I wasn't able to get a babysitter until later in the day, so I brought my kids along to Clear Spring Farm in the morning. Although they did do a certain amount of whining, and quarreling, they were mostly happy to be with the class. While we all painted, they ran around in the pumpkin patch, read books, and did their own paintings.

I'm glad I took the workshop because I learned a lot, and I enjoyed the experience. However, at times I felt overwhelmed. Sometimes the beauty of the scene around me made me feel sad, and I had to stop painting and lie down in the soft grass. I could feel the landscape slowly filling me up, the sunlight sinking into my soul, and it made my heart break, because it would soon pass, as autumn always passes, and it would all be gone forever.

"...quiet coves

His Soul has in its Autumn, when his wings

He furleth close; contented so to look

On mists in idleness--to let fair things

Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.

He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,

Or else he would forego his mortal nature."

---Keats, excerpt from "The Human Seasons"

Thanks for reading my blog!

For more reading:

Taking Notes: my first plein air workshop

Everything is Relative: my second plein air workshop

Glutton Before Death: a poem

October 12, 2016

"He smothers himself in perfumed sugar,/ his last taste,/ before winter's cold and unyielding death."

--poem by me (Lauren Kindle)

detail from "Vase of Flowers" painted by Jan Davidsz. de Heem in 1660 — detail from "Vase of Flowers" painted by **Jan Davidsz. de Heem in 1660**

A drunken bumblebee, bloated with pleasure,

drugged with nectar, fat and buried deep

within thick lush petals of a red flower,

she bends down, wantonly past her prime,

wilting shamelessly in the autumn afternoon,

slightly browned and brazen,

blemished and sensual...

He smothers himself in perfumed sugar,

his last taste,

before winter's cold and unyielding death.

Oh bumblebee, I see myself in you!

Were I to sense mortality so near,

Whether on some far-flung future day,

Silver-haired and wise,

Or else some sooner day than that,

Unhappily surprised,

I too might glut myself with sweetness,

Earthly pleasures, too plentiful to taste.

I'd stare at the golden autumn sunlight until my eyes ached,

And breathe the late-blooming rose until I'd faint:

Just one more taste of honey,

Oh, just one more sweet kiss!

The complete painting: "Vase of Flowers." — The complete painting: "Vase of Flowers."

Kyle Staver Art Opening Adventure

October 5, 2016

"She bestows power upon the women in her paintings, lifting them out of the familiar role of victim and vessel. By transforming a pagan world into one in which women can be heroes, she advances the likelihood that we will have to revise everything that we know if we are to proceed."

--John Yau, "A Different History"

In early September, I discovered that there was going to be a solo show of paintings by one of my favorite artists: Kyle Staver! I had discovered her work online about a year ago, and have been madly in love with it ever since. (As evidenced by this blog post I wrote back in March: A Love Poem for Kyle Staver.)

I deeply longed to see her paintings in real life! The only time I had ever seen a real-life Kyle Staver painting was earlier this year, in April, when I walked into the artist Ken Kewley's house and right there, in the entrance way, was a huge, amazing Kyle Staver painting! It took my breath away; I felt physically struck with emotion.

Consequently, I started to cry. (This is an embarrassing story for another, future blog post.)

"Hero and Leander" 68x154"all of the paintings, studded with bits of intense luminosity... — "Hero and Leander" 68x154"
all of the paintings, studded with bits of intense luminosity...

Art-emotion-addict that I am, I desperately wanted to go to the show, but I was scared of the idea of going into Manhattan by myself for an evening, something I had never done before. A friend suggested I drive to the train station in Morristown, NJ, and then take a train into Penn Station, so that's what I did. I felt especially grateful for my rockstar husband, who took over all the dinner-making, homework-helping, and bedtime-enforcing responsibilities that evening so that I could escape.

All during my drive, and then during the hour long train ride, I kept imagining what it would be like. Would I get lost trying to find the gallery? Would I get to meet Kyle Staver? I fantasized that I would be in a vast, quiet gallery radiantly brimming with Kyle Staver paintings, elegantly sipping champagne with Kyle Staver and perhaps a few other interesting artists, while we talked about painting for hours...

"Bathers" by Kyle Staver, 58x68" oil on canvas  A woman surrounded by admirers, not unlike the real Kyle Staver surrounded by all of her friends and fans at the art opening. — "Bathers" by Kyle Staver, 58x68" oil on canvas
A woman surrounded by admirers, not unlike the real Kyle Staver surrounded by all of her friends and fans at the art opening.

But....when I got there, it was like another world. In the first place, I had never been to Chelsea before, and I was completely unprepared for the intensity of it. There were about fifteen thousand galleries all having openings on that same street! It was insane! It was like every art opening I had ever gone to in my life in Easton, where I live, times a million! It seemed like there were dozens of galleries within each building, galleries within galleries within galleries... People were pouring out onto the sidewalk with wine and arty-expressions, engaged in arty conversations, and I realized how very small I was, how very small my little town of Easton was, and how massive New York City was.

Then I finally found the right gallery. (I had to ask some arty-people for help.) When I walked inside, the heat of the hundreds of bodies hit me like a powerful ocean wave. I saw Kyle Staver in the crowd but she was absolutely surrounded by people. I knew, with a sinking feeling, that I would never get within twenty feet of her. The place was PACKED! It was hard to see the paintings, but I did slowly make my way around, floating in my own private bliss. I spent lots of time looking at each painting, and I had thoughts like this:

"What would it feel like to paint this large?"

"Could I be brave enough to use colors like this?"

"How could I ever give myself permission to paint so brazenly?"

Here's a picture I took with my phone, up close, looking at the space between Leander's thighs.  I just loved these bright, golden fish, swimming out of that sexy space! — Here's a picture I took with my phone, up close, looking at the space between Leander's thighs. I just loved these bright, golden fish, swimming out of that sexy space!

Suddenly I was overcome with shyness. I didn't want to be around so many people; I didn't know anybody. I wanted to be back home where it was safe and cozy. I felt lonely and pathetic. I saw a bench in a shadowy corner, and there was a spot open, so I sat down to hide in the darkness. Next to me on the bench was woman who smiled at me in a friendly way. Her name was Martha, and we started talking. She was so sympathetic and kind, that I found myself opening up and telling her about my whole adventure, my long trip, my deep desire to meet Kyle Staver, and my overwhelming feelings of shyness...

"Well, I happen to know Kyle Staver very well," she said. "My daughter has been best friends with Kyle Staver for decades. My daughter is a painter too, Janice Nowinski."

Here's a picture of Martha and me.  There's a whole album of pictures from opening night if you're interested. — Here's a picture of Martha and me. There's a whole album of pictures from opening night if you're interested.

My jaw dropped: I recognized the name Janice Nowinski!

I remembered that I pinned "The Pink Bathing Suit" on Pinterest. (I loooove Pinterest.)

So, Martha and I looked at the art together for awhile; it was so wonderful talking with her about art and life! Then she introduced me to her daughter, and also to Kyle Staver.

I had this conversation with Kyle Staver:

"I really admire your work!" I said.

"Thanks!" she said.

And that was that. And yet, I was elated! As I traveled home, I felt lucky in so many ways!

But my favorite part of the adventure had been meeting Martha!

That night, I wrote this on the Kent Art Gallery Facebook Event Page:

"I'm so glad I came and got to see your paintings in person! They were so large and evocative, I felt like I could almost step inside them. This curve of light against her side was my favorite part, but it made me feel like a voyeur."