Large Originals
Saturated Portrait
Saturated Portrait
2017
42" x 36"
Oil on Handbound Canvas
This portrait gains its inspiration for the background primarily from the abstract works by Gershon Iskowitz he created later in his life. Many of his watery works are bleeding from colour to colour, but still take up space as their own primary form.
The portrait, however, has taken the colour scheme to a more muddy, complex level. I mix colours further and use colours in unusual ways, especially in the skin. The portrait is almost like an alien, a slight unsettling coolness in the skin and fire tone in the hair. To top it off, the hair is slightly chipped away, revealing grey colour. Is this unusual saturation, or goodness, covering up something, imperfect, maybe even non-living?
SUNDANCE
SUNDANCE
2018
30.5" x 23"
Watercolour on Paper, Framed
SUNDANCE is an experiment in light, colour and technique in abstraction. Floating alone in its custom frame its light & airy, yet neat and tidily rectangular. Opposing, yet harmonizing. SUNDANCE is the first original of many more to come in the future, that will be similar, yet different.
PASTEL
Pastel Landscape
2018
Oil on Canvas
32" x 36"
This abstracted Pastel Landscape was a journey with a new impasto (thick-application) technique I was practicing, while I was also working on my ability to meditate during the painting process. My intention was to look at the blank canvas as an opportunity, rather than having expectations for a 'perfect' painting. I painted with presence and patience for the 'answer' of the painting to come to me. It was the first painting to usurp a mental 'blankness' from me, and I found the experience helpful and pushed me to continue with this introduction to making new works.
This painting is heavy and must be hung firmly on the wall with a minimum of two screws/fasteners.
Watercolour Sea
Watercolour Sea
2018
24" x 30"
Watercolour on Paper, Framed
Watercolour Sea was a work where I honed my technical skills referencing detailed imagery while painting, but proceeding with abstraction to carry my idea further. Painting with watercolour can limit your ability to layer paint, or can provide you new opportunities. I try my best to allow a watercolour painting to do the latter.
What does the imagery in Watercolour Sea evoke for you? Do you assign a narrative?
PEONY
PEONY Diptych
2017
2 panels ea. 16" x 20"
Oil Paint, Printed on Canvas
Peony Diptych was an experimental artwork used to understand the fiscal differences of a work that was created with tools originally intended for alternate mediums. I created the floral tattoo-like design on paper and cut it to be a stencil, then proceeded to 'paint' using rollers intended for lino-cut printing, while using impasto oil paint. The resulting image was bright in some areas, yet subdued and inverted in the peonies. Warm and inviting, this painting would welcome a closer look and would look good hung any distance apart from one another.
NEVERMORE
NEVERMORE
2016
30" x 24"
Acrylic Paint, Collage on Canvas
'Nevermore' quote the raven. My idea was to creatively envision the poem and garner a visual summary or retelling of the poem simply through its presence. Using collage from both found and manufactured paper products, I imaginatively conjoined the raven to the shoulder of the man, as he is overwhelmed by the whispers 'Nevermore'. The original poem is below.
The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!