I am exhilarated by creating and counterbalancing formal oppositions of line and color, form and space, light and dark, organic and architectonic, diffusion and thickening, surface and depth. I struggle to bring out the mysterious and ineffable beyond the mundane, so that my abstractions and techniques embody the individual pitted against or confronted by the overwhelming, incomprehensible immensity of the universe.
I feel a kinship with 19th-century Northern Romantic artists such as Friedrich and Turner, stirred by their sense of scale and heroic theatricality. Even when tending toward monochromatic, color is always an important part of my work: it is energy, emotion, life, and it brings joy and quickens the blood. Whatever I devise in terms of hue, saturation, and vibrancy must be met with a restraining force or structure, and I increasingly explore processes that set different qualities of color, pigment, and texture against each other, even allowing for and embracing dissonance or jolie laide (“beautiful ugly”).
I do believe that beauty affects not only how we feel but how we behave. I think we’re hardwired to appreciate beauty in music, art and literature; we can learn sophisticated ways to approach beauty, but at the most basic level I think people respond to certain constructs found in nature as reflected in aesthetic fundamentals and classic tropes. As the daughter of an artist, I imbibed the principles of art making and great art at an early age, and yet I am constantly pulled in new directions rather than staying with one style or point of view. Mediated by a desire for freedom, this tension between permanence and flux seems to always play out in my canvases — maybe even cathartically.