Tornadoes

"Panic"
conte crayon drawing on Arches paper
8'x10'


"The Storm"
Ball point pen on Arches paper
4'x3.5'

Artist Statement

Thunderstorms are a prominent theme in my life. In Texas, you learn to fear Spring, while at the same time reveling in its excitement. The weather is perfect for thunderstorms. Storms are weather with personality. They roll in, rumbling and flashy, clapping thunder and blinding you with lightning. They have short lives, pounding your house with heavy rain for about thirty minutes. Then they quietly slip away, almost embarrassed of ever demanding your attention. Now you’re left with the aftermath: flooded backyards, streets with rivers on each side, and wriggling, unearthed worms that didn’t get the memo that the storm’s over. Sometimes, you even get a rainbow to top off the entire event. These are the good storms. The bad storms are what make me happy about my choice to leave good ole’ Tornado Alley.
Safe in Massachusetts, I can reminisce about the bad storms with a sense of accomplishment at having lived a little. If I were still in Texas in the Spring, you can bet my artistic expression would have nothing to do with even the tiniest twister. The bad storms are what damage property and ruin lives. They come in the same way good storms do, loud and boisterous, but give you something to fear. These are the storms I’ve cowered under a mattress in the hallway for, the ones that made me pray. The ones that make you afraid to hear the N.O.A.A. weather radio alert, and relieved if it’s “just a test.” It’s when the sky really does turn that electric shade of green, and the hairs really do stand up on the back of your neck. You react with primal instinct, and something tells you to get the hell outta there. It is impending doom. You know that it’s nothing personal, nature’s just gonna take you out, and that impartiality is what really does it.
Right here, right now, I love these powerful storms. I’m just as perverse as a storm chaser who films tornadic devastation for sport, but I hope the unsympathetic nature of my artwork will communicate the dread that comes when the computerized voice says, “Tornado Warning.”

Branches

Tree Branches
Oil on Masonite
12"x14"

This was the first successful painting of this semester. I chose not to follow this path for my division 3 project, and instead, I'm creating drawings, but I think this direction is a good one for me to follow when I decide to focus on painting again. I love the idea of painting shadows. The ethereal way the branches form and then disappear into shadows on the wall really appeals to me.

Teddywear-our first sale

Even though not directly art related (although I did design the graphics), I just had to share the news....

WE MADE OUR FIRST SALE!

This summer my sister and I started a t-shirt business for teddy bears. Since Build-a-Bears are such a craze these days, we thought that kids would want souvenirs for their teddies. Because of this, we're marketing them to local tourist shops, and had our first sale on Congress Ave. today. If you're visiting Austin, check out the store and maybe buy one for your teddy!

Here's our product:

The Last Moment

The Last Moment

14" X 11"

PastelIt was a great day for thunderstorms...in the distance. We got some nice rain in the afternoon, but the huge anvil heads, like this one, passed us by. But what a view. I only had about five minutes to run into the house and grab my pastels before this one disappeared. I tried my blue paper this time, and I think that caught the light of twilight well. The grey appeared to grow out of the muted blue in the way the clouds do when you can't quite tell whether or not you're seeing sky or a storm. I tried some bright colors for the light on the clouds this time, rather than my usual white or light yellow. It was so fun to add those hints of pink!

Triciclo (It all starts somewhere)

Triciclo

(It all starts somewhere)
Acrylic Painting

18" X 24"

I created this painting with the Bike Art show in mind, but added my own twist. Although Colnago doesn't make trikes, I thought it was a fun way to remind even the best cyclists of their humble beginnings and to encourage cycling children to see themselves as little athletes.

Here's the painting at the Bike Art Reception on Saturday, August 9, 2008. The show goes from August 9 - August 17, 2008, so of you're in Austin, check it out at Real Gallery.

Claire De Lune-At Cypress Grill

Claire De Lune (Homage to Claude Debussy)

Oil Pastel and Oil Sticks
26" X 40"

I did this painting a year ago, but I'm putting it up in celebration of the fact that I've made a print of it that's currently hanging up at Cypress Grill.

See:

For those interested, here's my long-winded explanation of the work. Take it or leave it:

The Spiritual Meaning
I started with the moon as the central image, and all other images flowed from that. I was pleased with how the sky in the middle became an expression of the "depths of eternity" as it surrealistically blended it into the rose that surrounds it. This is my visualization of the "moon in a dewdrop," which to not only me means that are we capable of experiencing enlightenment, but that the depths of the universe are within us all. We truly have the power of the universe within. We are whole.
With this at the core of the piece, the rest of the elements become echoes. The ripples caused by the rose on the surface of the water create the four surrounding scenes. Along with the circular theme of the piece, the sunset in the top right and the sunrise in the lower left mirror each other and create a cyclical sense of time and continuity. From one day to the next, the sun orbits around this moon in a rose, meaning that the divine light within us truly is the center of the universe. The horizon lines of the other two elements help to finish the outline of the "world" with the moon at its center, and create depth within the work.

The Musical Interpretation
When I created this piece, I had in mind the progression of Claire de Lune. This is represented by the changing figure that moves throughout the spaces. Like us, it is very adaptive, and fits naturally in whatever space it inhabits. It starts as the first couple measures of Claire de Lune, and as those notes mesh into melodies in the song, they flow into the second part of Claire de Lune. Here, the strings of chords in the melody create ocean waves. The notes manifest as sea birds in flight and soar on into the next part of the song, where at first they falter, afraid to fly without wings in their new human form. Then, realizing it was their inner strength that really propelled them, they soar and spin in this new section, where the melody's chord progressions act as stair steps and lead into the sky. Next, they dive into the sea and become dolphins, soaring through both sky and sea. Here they mimic the more rapid chord progressions that come next and swiftly go from both the bass cliff to the treble. They soar back into the sky for the next part, calmly floating above the rushing stream as dragonflies. Here the melody becomes more subdued and takes on the quality of a murmuring brook, until at last it comes full circle back to its original chords, but with a more bittersweet tinge. Here, finally, the dragonflies turn back to their original state as notes, and the whole cycle begins anew.

I've given my thoughts on the artwork as I created it, but to me art is in the eye of the beholder, so all interpretations are valid. I hope my ideas don't limit your meanings for this image, but only add to their possibility.
Thank you so much for your interest!

Light in the Shadows

Light in the Shadows
6" X 6"
Oil Pastel on Black Paper

This little moment called to me. I just happened to look out my window and glimpsed this delicate little silhouette. I'm called to moments where the shadows define the light. The way this crape myrtle swayed in front of the lit window in the night breeze made me drop what I was doing and capture its likeness.

Tree Branches

Tree Branches

Watercolor
14" X 11"

I love the space created in the shade of a tree. It's a secluded area free from the heat of the day. At times while painting this, a mockingbird would run along the fence and hop through the leaves. I don't usually work in watercolor, but it's nice to mix it up every once in a while. This spot seemed so peaceful, I just had to paint it.

Sunlit Thunderheads

I did this pastel of clouds in the few moments I had before the sun set and the thunderheads grew. There was so much contrast and shifting shadows that it was a rush to try and capture it all. I'll have to create a series of these clouds-there's just so many here in Texas, and they shift into even greater versions of themselves every second.

Summer Shadows

Detail:
This one took several sittings before completion. Usually, I paint en plein air and end it once the day is over. With this one, I spent some time in the studio adding new elements and making some finishing touches. The passing rain clouds in the distance appeared of their own accord and moved themselves across the landscape. It felt like the painting itself was coming to life on its own, and all I really had to do was help it grow. Looking at it now reminds me of a song that was important to me in childhood called Storms in Africa by Enya (I found a video of it on youtube here) The way the music crescendos and then fades reminds me of passing thunderstorms like the one in this painting, and like the ones that have been happening here in Texas since the days I painted this.

Summer Sunset

It was just one of those moments that catches you by surprise. I had set out to do a Texas landscape, and originally started drawing a different part of the view. I just happened to turn around for a second and then there it was, this brilliant moment just staring at me. This is what art is to me: it's those moments when you know you've just seen something unique, something that's never happened before and, unless you capture it, won't ever happen again.

(p.s. better image coming soon)