Susan's "subject matter, context and medium...present a coherent artistic vision"
John Torreano, Clinical Professor of Studio Art, NYU

"Great stuff. Love your work."
Seymour Chwast

Search This Blog

Friday, November 24, 2017

Moon's Day Off

Detail Good Day Moon, acrylic on linen, 24 x 18"

  I THINK MY PERSONAL MOON  is in alignment with the universe. I have been invited to exhibit my most recent paintings with Irreversible Projects at Spectrum Miami 201(Booth 307) during Art Week in Miami. Everyone else under the moon will be in Miami during Art Week.

And speaking of the moon, in case you ever wondered where the moon goes when he is off duty…he goes home. Just like you and I do.
In Good Day Moon, one of two paintings I created for Spectrum Miami, Mr. Moon is pictured chilling at home, relaxing among his pets and flowers, and about to partake of his breakfast–coffee and a croissant with jam. He loves the way croissants taste, but he loves their shape even more because it reminds him of his own form when he is waxing or waning into his quarter–moon self.  As you can see, his home is quite like ours in all but one respect–it lacks a roof.

It’s kind of spooky how my paintings sometimes design themselves. At those moments I feel that I am merely a laborer following the guidance of some mystical art director. For instance, I had no idea when I started painting the interior background that it would become home to the moon. I was merely making a complimentary-colored backdrop for a bouquet. During the early stages of a painting, my decisions are mostly compositional. So when it came to painting the ceiling, I decided that I would leave the room open to the sky for no reason other than that the blues and whites of the sky would make a pretty backdrop for the flowers in the foreground.

To strengthen the geometry of the composition, I repeated the circle created by the lamp, although I had no idea what it would end up being.  So for most of the time I was working on the painting Mr. Moon was just a penciled-in circle. When it occurred to me that the circle should be the moon (there’s that mystical art director again) his home was already architecturally designed specifically for his needs. Of course the man in the moon would have no ceiling on his house. He wouldn’t use a door to enter either. He’d just drop down from the dawn sky and rise up again into the twilight when he had to return to work.

See you soon, under the light of the silvery moon!

Monday, November 13, 2017

Tingling Elbows

Susan and Alice's Aura at NSU Art Museum of Ft. Lauderdale, FL.

THIS IS THE FIRST TIME  I exhibited  my work in a museum. I was invited by NSU Art Museum's director  Bonnie Clearwater when I was a painting student at the museum. She loved and chose Alice's Aura  even though her assistant had selected another painting for the show.  The museum staff told me that Ms. Clearwater labeled me a cross between Frida Kahlo and Alice Neel.

At the time of my exhibit, Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera were showing in the museum's main gallery. You know, your elbows tingle when you are rubbing them against the masters. I hope some of their greatness wore off on me! You can buy my work or prints of it here. My paintings are still cheaper than Kalho's or Neal's, at least until I get a few more museum exhibits under my belt.

Here's a better look at Alice's Aura . She was recently shown in the Treat Gallery, NYC.

Alice's Aura, acrylic on linen, 40 x 30 inches

A Letter to my Canvas

Golden Lady, acrylic on linen, 60 x 36 inches


I am work,
you are art.
Together we are work of art.
An implement used in your bidding
with no brain, no train of thought,
voraciously I suck in colors all day long
and stuff myself
with starry shapes from the night
hoarding them to spew forth
like detritus out of flu's belly
when creativity beckons.

As you glut yourself
with my sensual shapes and color,
I watch them seep into your empty whiteness
until you are saturated– with me! You laugh
as you are tickled by my brushes,
sable soft hair masagiing
my spirit into you nebulous soul.
I love and hate you, vacuous sponge
screaming for my cadmium red––my blood!
Selfless hands continue love's labor
giving you everything you want
to the detriment of all else.
We need each other more than ever now,
urgently our transaction is consummated and
We are one: work of art.

But then you leave me,
Just like all the others before you,
proud and independent
sychophants gawking.
You alone are work of art
And I am nothing without you.

I could join the others
but colors and shapes collide
inside my throbbing head
in their eagerness to be born.
I must help them,
let them out.
I am work.