Friday, March 9, 2012

Painted Stories

Corvid, about 15" high, found objects and oil paint
Gradually I have sorted out that what I do in my art is tell stories. Even if it's a landscape, there's a feeling that it's a place where something happened and that if you think about it you might figure out what that was.

My animal portraits tell stories about the nature of the subject -- this cat's sense of humor and that dog's soft dignity, and the bold, quirky horse over here mugging for a treat. I've been telling stories to myself for as long as I can remember, and I don't suppose I'll ever stop.

The little Corvid, here, might be my Patron Saint of Highways -- see the black flag with its broken yellow line, and the treasure (held close where his heart is) that he likely picked up on the road. Branches or wires, he couldn't care less where he lands. But where he comes from, where he's going, what happens to him on the way?

I won't tell you any of that, because the story is told by each person who sees it. There isn't just one, and they are all true.

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