Last night, for the first time in several sunny weeks, we hiked in a cool misty fog at Garland Ranch Regional Park. Silver slippery leaves blanketed the trails, and the owls started hooting much earlier than usual. Dusk descended quickly in a park known to be inhabited by rattlesnakes and jumbo sized prowling kitties. Not wanting to become an appetizer, we hustled down the trail mindful of the fall changes but always appreciative of the opportunity to be out among nature.
This has become our family routine for the past couple of months, sprinkled with intermittent backpacking and hiking trips to the High Sierra in between workshops and gallery events. After several wonderful months of abundant exposure to the great outdoors, Mother Nature has subtly worked her way into our lives (as only a mother can) and she is stirring the pot.
It all started with our summer exhibit STICKS & STONES, Nature Abstracted. Many of you had the opportunity to see STICKS, or at least read about it on this blog. It has been a beautiful exhibit, with fabulous work from eight different artists. In fact, we ended up extending the show through the middle of October.
When the show opened, I introduced a series of new paintings that were very neutral in color, and very much about the abstractions of nature. These initial paintings were a huge departure from my usual palette and style, and created a bit of a stir among those who know my work. The response could be categorized as "love/hate". The work was either applauded for the new style and radical departure from color, or it was quietly viewed from a distance with subtle throat clearing and uncomfortable stretches of silence followed by comments almost always featuring the word "interesting..."
Fascinated with the complex neutral palette, and the amazing juxtaposition of the strength and vulnerability in nature, I kept painting. Encaustic, acrylic, mixed media. Texture, more texture, scraping back, layering. Pushing above and beyond anything I've ever painted. Compelled and propelled by something more than I could fathom. Overcome and paralyzed from time to time, by fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the deep places where these paintings originated. Rediscovery of a forgotten realization that our paintings mirror ourselves. A mirror that sends back a telling reflection of what is beneath the surface. A reminder that layered among our strength, there is hidden vulnerability.
My palette started looking very white. Then very dark. Pure abstractions gave way to dramatic landscapes with stormy skies reminiscent of the Midwestern squalls I saw as a child. Storms that evoked the feeling of powerful wind and movement followed by a breakthrough of fragile light that signaled the beginning of change.
Mindful of the fact that something uncomfortable, but also amazing was transpiring, I reached out to my dear friend and fellow painter, Cynthia Johnson Bianchetta for a little soul food. Cynthia, in a very gentle and supportive manner, astutely pointed out that when artists create paintings that are radically different and feel life changing, they are "Marker" paintings. They mark a turning point in your life. And when a "Marker" painting emerges, you know it.
Hmmm. This makes sense. Seeing more clearly now, I recognized some telling attributes of "Marker" paintings. First, there is a feeling of particularly deep attachment to the content and message of these paintings. Second, they are reminiscent of having a child. In fact the process of creating a "Marker" painting is a lot like the agony and ecstasy of giving birth. Third, once completed, you are exhausted, happy, and light. You have turned a corner and are ready to embrace whatever is next. Fourth, these paintings inspire new direction and embrace change. Last, they awake awareness and accountability, launching powerful questions about actions, motives, and priorities.
In my life, marker paintings usually appear when change, good or bad, is imminent. This summer, for the first time in years, I shifted roles with my husband (sounds funny to be functioning in the reverse of our society) and started spending a considerable amount of time with my four year old son. My husband took over the day to day management of the gallery and our workshops, (with a little help from my remote computer)and in between teaching, I have been able to be a mom. What a strange and complex feeling to suddenly switch your identity.
This has been a wonderful time for our family, and it has brought forth the realization that four years of my son's baby / toddler life have flown by while we have been working hard to build Lauryn Taylor Fine Art. After much agonized contemplation about how to balance family with the continued growth of our business, I have seen the light at the edge of the storm.
Moving forward these last four months of 2007, we will finish out our rotating exhibition schedule with SPEECHLESS: The Unspoken Narrative (opening Saturday, October 20th), and our very fun, hugely popular, annual exhibition HOLIDAY LITES (opening Thanksgiving Weekend Saturday, November 24th).
In 2008 we will be restructuring our two gallery spaces in Carmel to focus more on building our fine art workshop business, the representation of a small, regular group of artists, and the return of a live painting studio in either the annex or main gallery. During the slow winter months in Carmel, our hours at the gallery will scale back, but we will be available by appointment on days we are closed.
The return of a live painting studio is particularly exciting. In addition to functioning as an alternate studio space, I look forward to also utilizing it as a teaching space, and as a painting and demo space for visiting artists.
Yes, changing reasons, changing seasons, and a new series of paintings have arrived and are here to stay. To see the "Marker" paintings mentioned above, catch the last couple of weeks of Sticks and Stones. Or surprise yourself on the opening night of Speechless: The Unspoken Narrative, Saturday, October 20th 6-8 pm. This show will feature a beautiful and moving body of work filled with stories and sprinkled with a touch of dry humor from artists Michele Tsouris, Nathaniel Mather, Dal Henderson, Susan Dorf and the above mentioned paintings from Yours Truly.
Speechless promises to be a compelling exhibition that will communicate through imagery the life challenges we all face with our personal strength, vulnerability, and of course, change.
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