I really can't make sense of what happened in the studio this past week except to say there was a change in the frequency and a new series was born. Don't worry, I will return to I love the broken things best at a later date but this time seems to be meant for something else.
This new series doesn't have a name yet but one painting does; Out of my mouth come flowers, come barbs. What has tumbled out this week is a mystery of pinks, oranges, teals, yellows, layers, and cellular shapes. These shapes I have explored over and over again in different ways for decades yet these seem to be more vibrant and colorful as they dance in the space and depth. As the shapes and colors multiply, they seem to converse and the chatter is contagious.
I am giddy with excitement. It reminds me of art school when I would talk to my mentor and professor Ron Graff at the University of Oregon about my latest paintings or a new idea for a series. I could feel my face turn red and my heart beat fast and my palms sweat. Not in that awful panicked way, (which I was well versed in at the time) but in that, I can't stand keeping this in, way. That jumping for joy, way. That I can't fucking contain my excitement and I don't care if I look like a fool, way. In other words, pure joy and freedom.
I wrote a dear friend and fellow artist and later told my parents over Skype this week, that "I love color so much it makes me want to grind my teeth to dust."
I could qualify that more and I could be more cautious in talking about this new series since we are in the early days yet but I don't want to play the fear card right now. There is enough of that going around. Right now, I am grateful for these patterns that kindly haunt me, these colors that sing and dance and that I can jump up and down in delight when the orange hums next to the pink.
What if it is really just that simple...