"These jewel-like paintings intuitively fuse different aesthetic traditions, folk art and old master, with natural grace and an uncanny quality that may be a species of magic." —American Arts Quarterly
I am pleased to present three new paintings which will be included in my upcoming solo show in Santa Fe on December 4. Please contact the Meyer Gallery for availability and purchase inquiries at email: firstname.lastname@example.org or via phone at 800-779-7387 or 505-983-1434
In creating this series of work, I found myself drawn to twisting florals and vines as if being cocooned by nature. All through the spring and summer, I have found solace and comfort through walking in nature, appreciating the wildflowers and birds inhabiting this beautiful New Mexico landscape. This fall is especially beautiful, the Aspens gilding the mountains with their golden leaves. I return to the recurring theme of Flora and Fauna to explore our relationship with Nature and that of Love and Loss because it is a time of strengthening our relationships with each other and a time of grief and hope.
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave Irreverent. Those sweet excesses that I do adore. What surety is there That we will meet again, On other worlds some Future time undated. I defy my body’s haste. Without the promise Of one more sweet encounter I will not deign to die.
~ REFUSAL by Maya Angelou
Refusal: Hand with Maya Angelou 2020, oil on panel, 7×5 inches
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?—
See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art–
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors–
No–yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever–or else swoon to death.