"Remembering"
Acrylic on Archival Gessobord with 2" Birch Sides, 36" x 24", Ready to hang!
I loaded up all of my paintings yesterday and brought them to the Twin Cities for a two-month exhibit. If you are in the area, stop in at Olson Campus Center, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Here's my artist statement: "I have always felt a pull to wrestle with the big questions of life. I have been working on a body of work on the subject of suffering for several years. Slogging through it and holding on to hope where you can find it. Suffering is something we all hold in common, in some respect, whether it is physical, mental or spiritual. My own experience comes out of a diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis six years ago, a chronic auto-immune disease. There is the grieving and endless pain, but ironically, there is gratitude as well. My current exhibit wrestles with war and its effect on humanity and creation. Wreckage and beauty.
I had the privilege of standing on Omaha Beach in Normandy, last summer. I stood on this most serene beach, the gentle breeze kissing my face, and looked out upon those waters. It was incredibly beautiful. There was an overwhelming sense of peace, as the water lapped over my feet. And then I imagined that day, June 6, 1944, when the Allied forces stormed the beaches of northern France. My heart was heavy with its import. I read Stephen Ambrose’s book, D-Day before arriving. I hadn’t realized the incredible undertaking it was and the mess it turned out to be. Days filled with carnage and destruction. Enormous loss of life and terrible suffering. The contrast of that day and the day I stood on this peaceful beach was enormous. Unfathomable. War. We seem to repeat it over and over again. Why? These are the things that trouble my heart. Artistic contrasts, like contrasts in life, bring focus and attention, perhaps understanding. And so, I paint.
I had the privilege of standing on Omaha Beach in Normandy, last summer. I stood on this most serene beach, the gentle breeze kissing my face, and looked out upon those waters. It was incredibly beautiful. There was an overwhelming sense of peace, as the water lapped over my feet. And then I imagined that day, June 6, 1944, when the Allied forces stormed the beaches of northern France. My heart was heavy with its import. I read Stephen Ambrose’s book, D-Day before arriving. I hadn’t realized the incredible undertaking it was and the mess it turned out to be. Days filled with carnage and destruction. Enormous loss of life and terrible suffering. The contrast of that day and the day I stood on this peaceful beach was enormous. Unfathomable. War. We seem to repeat it over and over again. Why? These are the things that trouble my heart. Artistic contrasts, like contrasts in life, bring focus and attention, perhaps understanding. And so, I paint.