Monthly Archives: February 2018

Start/Finish of “Oracle,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 26″ x 20″

Start

Start

Finish

Finish

 Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 287

Barbara’s studio

Barbara’s studio

*an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.

“To go back and introduce into all the schools art, to cut down on sports but bring arts, philosophy back into all educational systems,” he said. “And that’s what’s being cut everywhere.  And I think that’s one of the sad and tragic parts of where we are.  Education is the resistance to everything that is bad today.”

Jonas Mekas quoted in Want to Be Happy?  Think Like an Old Person, by John Leland, The New York Times, Dec. 29, 2017.

Comments are welcome!

Q: What’s on the easel today?

Work in progress

Work in progress

A. I have just started working on a small pastel painting.  Although the mask looks Tibetan, surprisingly, it is from Bolivia.  It’s one I encountered at a mask exhibition at the Museum of Ethnography and Folklore in La Paz.   This is another in my “Bolivianos” series.

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 286

Museo de Antropología de Xalapa

Museo de Antropología de Xalapa

*an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.

All real art is or was modern in its time,

daring and new,

demonstrating a constant change in seeing and feeling.

If revival had been a perpetual virtue,

we would still live in caves and earth pits.

In art, tradition is to create,

not to revive.        

Joseph Albers quoted in Ruins in Reverse by Lauren Hinkson in Joseph Albers in Mexico

Comments are welcome!

Q: How do you stay motivated to create new work?

"False Friends," 50” x 70,” one of Cheryll and John's pastel paintings

“False Friends,” 50” x 70,” one of Cheryll and John’s pastel paintings

A:  There are many reasons to continue to make art.  First, I am fascinated by my months- if not years-long creative process.  It begins with travel to remote destinations and ends in framed pastel paintings in my studio, hanging in galleries, at art fairs, in collectors’ homes, etc.  Each new pastel painting is another thread in an expanding tapestry that is my entire body of work.  It’s fascinating to never know where the process, or the paintings, will end up nor who will be touched by the work.

My pastel paintings continue to garner appreciation among a growing list of collectors.  Here’s a recent email from a couple that has been collecting my work from the beginning.

 

hello barbara,

merry christmas!
we are thrilled and thrilled and thrilled for your good news from miami and naples.
. . . “tense peace, a tumultuous stillness” . . .
we know we love you and we love your work.
how lucky are we to live with your work in our home, in our lives.
we love to read how others describe it.

thanks for sharing.
happy us to have you and your art in our lives,
love to you,
john & cheryll

your work stopped me in my tracks decades ago.
the sight of your work never left me.
i knew that i had to have it near me at some time, no matter what the cost.
i began immediately to negotiate with john.
you know the story . . .
i promised that i would not buy a single thing for five years if i could have one piece of your art.
i held true for the five years and beyond, adding three more pieces of your work.

if we had the wherewithal, your work would be on every floor.

there is never a day that goes by without thinking how brilliant that work is and how it has enriched our deepest sense of visual joy.
we see the rain pouring down, the snow falling, the clouds scudding by, in false friends.
i admit, we don’t allow the sun to shine on them. i couldn’t bear for her to be damaged.
your thoughtful, brilliant words kept us from changing the highly-reflective plexi to something that would have dulled the drama of us walking in front of and being a part of the work.
we still have those words.
it took about one-half of one second for my thinking to change.
and, man, are we grateful.

it never occurred to us that your work wouldn’t be sought after.
always, we walk into a museum and see your work on the walls.
on the walls of the hemi-cycle at the corcoran.
on the walls of the whitney.
on the walls of the met breurer.
on any large white space that would allow each piece to breathe.

we have always known, deep in our marrow that your work is singular.
you have always had our hearts . . . since the second i walked into the torpedo factory, a first-grade teacher with a first-grade teacher’s salary, and knew that i’d sell my honda civic and walk rather than not have in reality, the frogs thought they were men (i know that the title of the piece is something like that . . . the decades have blurred the words).
so, we waited and then . . .

sigh . . .

all the best to you.
we are excited out of our ever-loving minds for you.
but . . . we’ve always known . . .

love, 

c & j

 

Comments are welcome!