Blog Archives
Q: What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them? (Question from Bold Journey)
A: The deepest wound was losing Bryan on 9/11. I resolved not to become another victim of that tragedy and chose to continue living and making art.
Because I depend on reference photographs for my work, my first hurdle was learning to use Bryan’s 4×5 view camera. He had always taken the photos for me. In 2002, I enrolled in a photography workshop at the International Center of Photography in New York. To my surprise, I had absorbed a lot just from watching him, and I went on to formally study photography for several years. In 2009, I was invited to present a solo photography exhibition in New York.
By 2003, I resumed my Domestic Threats series. The first large pastel I completed from one of my own photographs was titled She Embraced It and Grew Stronger. It was autobiographical: “she” was me, and “it” was life without Bryan.
That series ended in 2007, by which time I was finding more peace. But then I faced a new challenge: creative block. For months I struggled, but I kept showing up daily. Eventually, a breakthrough came, and I began the Black Paintings series. The dark backgrounds represented the place I had emerged from; the vibrant figures symbolized resilience and life.
In 2017, inspired by a museum exhibition in La Paz, I began Bolivianos, based on Carnival masks. Many view this as my boldest and most exciting work yet.
Comments are welcome!
Q: You use so many pastels in your work. Do you have a favorite?
Barbara’s Studio
A: When people ask if I have a favorite pastel among the thousands in my studio, I am quick to answer, “Rembrandt black pastel!” This is the single color that I use the most. I buy them by the dozens because it takes many layers of pigment – applied and hand-blended together, one on top of the other, on sandpaper – to achieve the intense black backgrounds that distinguish my “Bolivianos” series of pastel paintings. Typically, I use up a minimum of two or three Rembrandt pastels to create these backgrounds. A few years ago one New York art critic cleverly dubbed them, “Barbara’s black-grounds.” How cool is that!
Comments are welcome!
Q: Love your selection of pastels! Do you have favorites that you need to force yourself not to continually return to? (Question from Donina Asera via Facebook)
A: No, I don’t think so. Certainly, I do have general preferences. I prefer dark, vivid, intense colors so many of my pale pastels go mostly unused. The single pastel that I use most is Rembrandt black – I buy them buy the dozens – because it takes many layers of pigment to achieve my dark black backgrounds. Otherwise, I strive to be open to whatever the painting needs. My goal – always! – is to make a pastel painting that is exciting to look at and different from anything I have created before.
Thank you very much for the great question!
Comments are welcome!
Pearls from artists* # 468
*an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.
Why does art elicit such different reactions from us? How can a work that bowls one person over leave another cold? Doesn’t the variability of the aesthetic feeling support the view that art is culturally determined and relative? Maybe not, if we consider the possibility that the artistic experience depends not on some subjective mood but on an individually acquired (hence variable) power to be affected by art, a capacity developed through one’s culture in tandem with one’s unique character. For evidence of this we can point to works that seem to ignore cultural boundaries altogether, affecting people of different backgrounds in comparable ways even though a specific articulation of their personal responses continues to vary. Consider the plays of William Shakespeare or Greek theater, or the fairy tales that have sprung up in similar forms on every continent. We could not be further removed from the people who painted in the Chauvet Cave, nor could we be more oblivious as to the significance they ascribed to their pictures. Yet their work affects us across the millennia. Everyone responds to them differently, of course, and the spirit in which people are likely to receive them now probably differs significantly from how it was at the beginning. But these permutations revolve around a solid core, something present in the images themselves.
J.F. Martel in Reclaiming Art in the Age of Artifice: A Treatise, Critique, and Call to Action
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