Blog Archives

Pearls from artists* # 674

Southampton, New York Photo: Susan Erlichman

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

Everything about art requires dedication and presence. It is an intimate act, demanding the kind of sustained devotion we rarely lavish on other human beings. The artist’s generosity is highly impractical because there is no guarantee that it will ever be appreciated. Consider the level of optimism needed to repeatedly spend, even deplete, whatever reserves might be required to create the most superlative gift you could offer, one that is essentially given away to the world for free. The work we make is a love letter in a bottle, thrown into the ocean. It may or may not be read. We do not negotiate. like businesspeople, ‘You give me this, and I will give you that…’ We bequeath our pursuit of excellence and creative spirit to our audience, without reservation or qualification. We know what we have invested in it and sleep better because of it.


– Kate Kretz in Art From Your Core: A Holistic Guide to Visual Voice

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!

Pearls from artists* # 654

West Village, New York, NY
West Village, New York, NY

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

The cynical art world, where ‘nothing is a miracle,’ benefits from disempowered artists who have been tricked into feeling devalued, and trained to live at the mercy of the marketplace. But the exact opposite is true. The art world would collapse without our coveted holy vision. Artists are born with unconventional gifts that mark them as innovative thought leaders. Society is only beginning to understand how these gifts may be employed. We possess the power to expose what is going on beneath the surface, initiate difficult conversations, and help people process an increasingly complex world. We fire bullets of truth to pierce the ever-thickening wall of relentless lies. We see things more clearly, precisely because we are on the outside. We foster empathy and point out our common humanity. We remind people that they do not have to go along with this; there are other ways to live. We have the conviction to scream at the top of our lungs when society is veering terribly off course. That the antidote to capitalism is meaning. At our best, through a rather miraculous process, artists change the world.

Kate Kretz in Art From Your Core: A Holistic Guide to Visual Voice

Comments are welcome!

Travel photo of the month*

*favorite travel photos that have not yet appeared in this blog

Dune Beach, Southampton, New York

Comments are welcome!

Q: Would you speak more about being represented by Brewster Gallery in the late 1990s?

Review of my first exhibition at Brewster Gallery
Review of my first exhibition at Brewster Gallery

A: In 1996 I landed my first major New York gallery, Brewster Gallery.  I was still living in Virginia and Mia Kim, the director, had accepted my work on the basis of unsolicited slides mailed to the gallery in July.  The first time she saw my pastel paintings in person was when I delivered them for a solo exhibition in October.

Brewster represented Latin American masters such as Frida Kahlo, Francisco Zuniga, Diego Rivera, Francisco Toledo, and Rufino Tamayo.  Mia Kim, the director, said that she sometimes had to defend her decision to represent me.  Mia’s fabulous response was, “Barbara has the SOUL of a Latina!”  My work at that time was heavily influenced by Mexican culture.  Mia immediately understood what I was doing in my work.  How thrilled and honored I was to be represented by a gallery where my fellow sole non-Latina was Leonora Carrington!  Leonora came to my opening.

Those were wonderful days!

Comments are welcome!

Q: Does your work look different to you on days when you are sad, happy, etc.?

Barbara’s Studio

A: I am much more critical on days when I am sad so that the faults, imperfections, and things I wish I had done better stand out.  Fortunately, all of my work is framed behind plexiglas so I can’t easily go back in to touch up perceived faults.  I am reminded of the expression, “Always strive to improve, whenever possible.  It is ALWAYS possible!”  However, I’ve learned that re-working a painting is a bad idea.  You are no longer deeply involved in making it and the zeitgeist has changed.  The things you were concerned with are gone: some are forgotten, others are less urgent. 

For most artists our work is autobiography.  Art is personal.  When I look at a completed pastel painting, I usually remember exactly what was happening in my life as I created it.  Each piece is a snapshot – maybe a time capsule, if anyone could decode it – that reflects and records a particular moment.  When I finally pronounce a piece finished and sign it, that’s it, THE END.  It’s as good as I can make it at that point in time.  I’ve incorporated everything I was thinking about, what I was reading, how I was feeling, what I valued, art exhibitions I visited, programs  that I heard on the radio or watched on television, music that I listened to, what was going on in New York, in the country, and in the world.

It is still  a mystery how this heady mix finds its way into the work.  During the time that I spend on it, each particular painting teaches me everything it has to teach.  A painting requires months of looking, reacting, correcting, searching, thinking, re-thinking, revising.  Each choice is made for a reason and together these decisions dictate what the final piece looks like.  On days when I’m sad I tend to forget that.   On happier days I remember that the framed pastel paintings that you see have an inevitability to them.  If all art is the result of one’s having gone through an experience to the end, as I believe it is, then the paintings could not, and should not, look any differently.

Comments are welcome.

Travel photo of the month*

New York, NY


*favorite travel photos that have not yet appeared in this blog

I wasn’t actually traveling when I took this photo, but I am posting it anyway because I just love it. River ice is my favorite thing about winter in New York. And it has been years since I have seen ice on the Hudson River!

Comments are welcome!

Q: What kind of reactions do you get from spectators at your exhibitions? (Question from “Cultured Focus Magazine”)

“Worlds Unseen & Seen,” Westbeth Gallery, New York, NY

A: Reactions to my work run the gamut – from dopey comments like, “I’m scared!” to “How in the world is it possible to achieve such beauty and profundity using only soft pastel on a piece of sandpaper!” I’m sure most artists can say the same.  We can only hope that our work finds its way to an audience that has the eyes, heart, and mind to understand, to appreciate on a deep level the decades of devotion, sacrifice, and hard work that go into creating works of art.

Comments are welcome!

Merry Christmas from New York City!

Rockefeller Center, New York, NY

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

Comments are welcome!

Q: Did you formally study art? (Question from “Cultured Focus Magazine”)

International Center of Photography website

A: My bachelor’s degree in Psychology is from the University of Vermont.  I did not formally study art, unless you want to count the several years-worth of drawing and painting classes I took at the Art League School in Alexandria, VA. I never went to art school so do not have a bachelor’s or master’s degree in art.  

Much later, in the early 2000s, I was compelled to study photography at the International Center of Photography in New York.  This is a rather long story.

On September 11, 2001, my husband Bryan Jack, a high-ranking federal government employee, a brilliant economist and a budget analyst at the Pentagon, was on his way to present his monthly guest lecture in economics at the Naval Postgraduate College in Monterey, CA. He was a passenger on the plane that departed from Dulles Airport and was high-jacked and crashed into the Pentagon.  

Losing Bryan on 9/11 was the biggest shock of my life, devastating in every way imaginable. We were soulmates and newly married. I have lived with his loss every single day for more than twenty years now.  Life has never been the same.

In the summer of 2002 I was beginning to feel ready to get back to work. Learning about photography and cameras became essential avenues to my well-being.  

My first challenge was learning how to use Bryan’s 4 x 5 view camera. Bryan had always taken the 4 x 5 negatives from which I derived the reference photos that were essential tools for making pastel paintings. I enrolled in a one-week view camera workshop at the International Center of Photography in New York.  Surprisingly, it was very easy. I had derived substantial technical knowledge just from watching Bryan for many years.

After the view camera workshop, I decided to throw myself into learning this new medium, beginning with Photography I. I spent the next few years taking many classes at ICP and learning as much as I could. Eventually, I learned how to use Bryan’s extensive collection of film cameras, to properly light the setups that served as subject material for my “Domestic Threats” pastel paintings, and to make my own large chromogenic prints in a darkroom. 

Then in October 2009 I was invited to present a solo photography exhibition at a gallery in New York. Continuing to make art after Bryan’s death had seemed like such an impossibility. I remember thinking how proud he would have been to know I became a good photographer.

Comments are welcome!