Made these small paintings on 3"x8" and 3"x6" wood blocks in late Feb and early March, which feels like a long time ago. They're in my Etsy shop for $50 including US shipping. I had brought them to the Madewell pop-up on 3/7, and imagined I'd sell more at spring/summer markets, but for now I will be regularly updating my online shop, and most work I post on instagram is also for sale by contacting me.
I had a boxful of wood rectangles cut to these lengths thinking of making more utensil paintings. I made some, but decided I could conclude that series, unless someone really wants a spoon or a knife or, as in one commission, a cheese planer. So I used these particular sizes of wood to experiment with shape compositions and color palettes on the limited space. Surprise, the more I make, the more ideas surface. I have lots of various wood pieces and small canvases all over the studio, so that will keep me going for awhile. I stretched some large (48-60") canvases too, so I could immediately feel productive and less anxious (the stapling helped). I had so many stretcher bars and a massive roll of canvas, all given to me over the past few years. The only thing I'll soon run out of is paint, so until I also run out of money, I can order more. Buying new jars and tubes of paint is a definite exercise in optimism.
I’m doing a pop-up at Madewell at The Westchester in White Plains NY on Sat March 7! Part of the brand's ongoing collaboration with local creatives. This one is also for their nationwide International Women’s Day event. 10 percent of the store proceeds that day will benefit the ACLU and the preservation of women’s rights.
I’ll have a selection of small paintings, prints, mugs and other goods, there will be ‘sips and snacks’, and a discount at checkout for visitors who shop with me. Come by.
As an effort at promo, I took a picture of myself here wearing Madewell threads to match my painting, as one does. Ok I took 100 pics.. it’s not easy. The easy part was seeing how many of my clothes match my paintings. While writing this I had an idea, I’ll offer to custom-paint-splatter people’s new jeans! (Don’t hold me to this, I haven’t cleared it.)
My 2020 calendars are here, and ready in their subdued colorful way to brighten up your coming year. Up now in my Etsy shop, along with some new mugs, and at Catalyst Gallery in Beacon, NY, and by contacting me directly (venmo, paypal).
This summer, I made a connection that some of my color ideas are rooted in my early obsession with crayons and coloring, always boxes of them on hand, vibrant to murky, ones worn to stumps and others still pointy. I keep a coffee can of dusty Crayolas in my studio that I don’t use, I thought I was saving them for somebody.
But now I know why they’re here. After I made this new painting, I found crayons to match what I'd mixed. A color prescription. Closing my eyes, I smell wax on my hand.
24x24” acrylic on canvas.
Multiple oblong, round shapes, cut from scrap wood and painted in different bright colors, hang on a portion of chain-link fence that separates a community farm and garden from the road. The flat pieces, facing passersby, are visible from both sides. The installation’s title, Colorgarden, is a homophonic play on garden—an enclosure inside which vegetables and flowers are grown—and guarding, which is the role of the fence itself.
I cut the pieces freehand with only a general plan of the finished effect. Each one is slightly different and many are colored to match an element of what might be found in the garden. As the season changes, the colors become a snapshot of a summer palette through fall. As I worked, I felt that I was growing a sort of garden in my studio, colored rounds sprouting up from the floor.
The role that the Newburgh Urban Farm and Food Initiative plays in the community—for the people who work and volunteer here, and for the people who in turn have access to locally grown produce—makes for a natural response to the Terrain Biennial theme of how we change the environment we occupy, and how it changes us. Creating the farm within the city of Newburgh is an answer to how to adapt to our busy urban surroundings, just like the park it’s tucked into, bordered by a paved road that traverses many city blocks. It mirrors my answer to “why make art?” They are both challenging and both essential. You are nourished, you thrive, you learn, you find color and joy, and you are rejuvenated.
I had submitted my series of Fisher-Price milk bottle paintings to a museum exhibition about toys and collectibles. They were not accepted to the show, but the process got me thinking of them again.
When I decided to paint them, I had a specific memory of this collection being some of my favorite toys. I don't even know why. I can remember prying off the mismatched plastic lids and pouring the 'contents' into cups, refilling with every imagined flavor of milk and juice, a tiny bartender.
Even though I was a child in the 80s, my toys were older because I had 4 older siblings, and the playroom contained all these late-60s and 70s toys, a lot of Fisher-Price, mixed in with more 'modern' items. (Right now I'm not moved to paint any Care Bears or My Little Ponies or even my Pound Puppy, but maybe in another 10 years.)
I love the colors, this blend of faded and fluorescent, and the tactile memory of play that the photos brought up, and then the mixing of paint to evoke them.
In my recent work this year, I have been jigsawing shapes from thin wood and painting/assembling them into wall-mounted compositions, occupying the space between two and three dimensions. Those shapes are oblong and round, stacked adjacent to each other in rows or appearing to be piled on the same flat plane.
In this new series, the layers of cut and painted wood evoke a dense and fantastical field of grass. and the piece interprets the sense of confronting wild greenery by representing the shapes and shades of it like that your imagination might conjure. The largest piece, 48"x50", is titled after a line in a Walt Whitman poem, ‘observing a spear of summer grass’. They may all be titled a variation of this, as they all grew from the same idea. Noting the word ‘spear’ instead of blade, both words descriptive and dangerous, as these sharp wood spears softly writhe and tangle around each other.
I made this painting for the set of a private photo shoot with a 60s vibe. I painted it as a close copy of a print by Shag (the LA-based artist whose work is incredibly fun) which the photographer, Dean Goldberg, saw and dug for the project. I replicated his complete design, using an orange/red palette to suit the photo shoot, instead of the original's greens and blues.
Initially I hesitated to post this, but I consider it an homage to the artist (with respect- it took some work) and I think it is a groovy painting. 28”x36” acrylic on canvas. I may not exhibit as it doesn't feel like my original work, but I would very much like to sell it with the understanding that it is copied from another artist for a specific purpose. It would look pretty cool hanging on the wall in a bar/lounge or a hotel with a hip midcentury mod decor..
The piece is back in my studio and makes me want to kick off my heels and recline in an egg chair with a martini next to my pool table, watching the fiery sun set behind the skyline.
One of several pieces available here at Wonderwall Studio as a framed print in several sizes, here brightening up a breakfast table. Personally I would like this chair to go with it. The original painting is 40"x65" and still available, though the prints are probably an easier fit for most interior decorating.
These four paintings are now available on Perigold, a premium home design retailer, as prints in several sizes, float mounted on linen with colored acrylic box framing or mounted on wood panels. Doing what I can to brighten up those interiors!
For example, the Citron Stack original painting is just 12"x16", but the finished pieces are offered as 19"x24" or 32"x40". So cool. So premium.