Elements: A Creation Story

An artist sits in a cold studio in January, wrapped in blankets, drinking wine, scribbling notes onto castaway papers and post-its. Ideas bubbling, thoughts swarming, the big question obsessively taking over: What shall the new series be? A few days go by, studio still frigid (even for a San Diego evening) the artist goes over their notes once more. Battles between conflicting opposites have made their way onto several papers: movement vs. stillness, darkness vs. light, strong vs. weak. There are questions about what feeds us? What helps us be present in the moment? What is it to be “mother”? The artist reaches for a notebook where over four pages the artist has gone into a philosophical rant about why we fear fragility, why we see fragility as negative, why we don’t celebrate fragility more. In the end the artist marks all things as fragile: alterable, changing, shifting. The artist acknowledges all the late night ponderings and decides to just go to the canvas and play.

And this is pretty much how most of my painting series emerge. I have lots of ideas and thoughts but in the end, I just have to get on that canvas and start making. Over the course of days, weeks, or months, the series begins to emerge. Then I push and explore what has emerged. Then I begin to control and focus it.

Air. Earth. Fire. Water.

The new series came to light about one month into the process. I wanted a quieter space while working on the new series so I chose either playlists featuring sounds of nature or complete silence. I gradually layered textures and gestural paint strokes focusing on the colors I was drawn in by. I dripped inks and watched them flow. When I looked at the paintings I saw dramatic abstract scenes unfolding through blues and browns. There were fiery oranges and wispy whites. The elements in color and composition had manifested onto canvas: Air. Earth. Fire. Water. The series was born.