I hadn't rewritten my artist's statement in a long time. Instead of a formal statement, I have been writing about my art in this blog. But recently I had a visit from one of the curators at the Johnson Art Museum, and figured I'd better have an updated statement to give her. This is what I wrote:
My work was influenced in the early 1960s by the New York school of abstract expressionists, including Jackson Pollock, Willem deKooning, Hans Hoffman, and Robert Motherwell. What drew me to this work was its sense of improvisation, high energy, and an emphasis on the painting process. Instead of using paint to carry out a visual idea, I was thrilled to discover the visual idea through the process of creating it.
The iconography in my work comes from a lifetime of personal and cultural experience. As a young girl in the 1950s, I resented the limited role assigned to women, and sought to break away from it. I emulated my three older brothers, and wanted to act in this world of men by accomplishing significant things. I eschewed “women’s work,” and therefore didn’t learn the joy of cooking until I had left home and was forced to cook for myself.
Thus, I used strong colors and forceful gestures in my painting, avoiding any effect that might be deemed “feminine.” I took it as a compliment when someone said to me once, “You paint like a man.” It was only years later, as I matured, that I could embrace the delicate, the patterned, and even pastel colors in my art.
Two signs that are integral to my work are the circle and the X. Through the circular shapes and lines on my canvases, I embrace the feminine. While I still prefer to wear loose clothing that does not reveal my own body’s curves, I do enjoy filling my art with circles and eggs in abundance.
As for the Xs in my paintings, sometimes making one is an act of "crossing-out" what has come before. Making an X is a way of saying "no" to the world. In a way, X's are the opposite of O's, and mixing them expresses my ambivalence. X is a primitive kind of mark that may come from the unconscious, a kind of making your mark or staking out your territory. X accumulates meanings.
There is also a physical satisfaction in making an X, especially a large one that fills up a canvas. It feels decisive to make this strong mark. At other times, the X is simply playful.
When I was a young girl, my grandmother spent hours trying to teach me how to make paper flowers. She was a true artist, but I resisted this “women’s craft,” and grew bored. My mother loved flowers, and always planted a garden of them, but I, again, resisted this path. It was only later in life that floral and leaf designs showed up in my art.
As my personal history and culture are my life’s foundation, each layer I paint on a canvas becomes the history of its surface. These layers accumulate and influence, yet not always overtly. Like sediment, they build. By mixing the acrylic paint with water and gloss medium to make a thin wash, the translucent quality of top layers reveal aspects of the painting’s history. At other times, a thick impasto hides the past. Yet it is there beneath the surface and has had its influence nonetheless.
