For just about as long as I cen remerber there has been a catalogue in my mind of certein pieces at the Philadelphia museum of art. I believe I took my first school trip there in 5th grade. I have gone back many many times since.
Some struck me because of their obvious beauty and some just struck me and I was not sure why.
This pieces falls into the later category, but as long as I can remember, this piece has been a part of that internal catalogue...
I stood in a chapel last night for a meeting about my wedding. It's a small, beautiful, old, warm place. As we turned to leave I was struck by the evening's summer light coming in through one of the many stained glass windows. Some chord deep within me was struck.
I'm finally allowing myself to start a much awaited series conveying hard, sometimes painful but transformative experiences with a concept based on iconic art and church history. (My reliquaries) it was quite fitting to be so struck in such a place.
I get kind of lost when I paint- usually in maddening circles spread over several panels. I build up the paint/wax and scrape down to reveal what is underneath. This is a beautiful aspect of my preferred medium, encaustic.
A not so nice by product of this process is that my studio floor becomes thick and sticky. Where I do the majority of my work becomes a 6" hill and I am constantly tracking debris into the hallway/common area.
Tonight I took on the task prying up half of my small studio's flooring and replacing them with gleaming new rubberized drop cloths.
It is not easy work, but the end result is reinvigorating! Thank God for my understanding landlord. I'm sure it will be quite an undertaking when I relocate some day.