"Pear in Phoenix Bird Cup"
5 x 7" , oil
My daughter Maura is preparing for her senior thesis show at
Pratt. Her show will celebrate women
artists as each in turn is asked what feminine identity means to her. As I struggle to answer her query, I find myself
looking around my studio at my own work.
How do the images I paint reveal my own feminine nature? My studio walls are hung with watercolors of
the Delaware River, rendered in fluid, poured color. The very act of pouring paint
feels feminine to me. A release of life blood. Small paintings of apples and figs reveal
ripeness and promise: to bear fruit is to give life, to be fertile, to eat
fruit is to be nourished. A painting of an
ample pear placed inside a delicate antique china cup feels strong and curvy, yet fragile,
like me. Paintings of my family
abound. My recent cityscapes feel the
least feminine, still, through my womanly eye, they reflect moments of quiet
beauty or happy circumstances, scenes of everyday harmony, that which we wish
for.
I am not a painter of disquiet. In scenes of chaos and fear we must look for
the helpers. Bad things will always
happen, yes, but there will also always be the helpers. In crisis, to the helpers we turn. But for the soul we turn to family. To friends.
Food. Music. Art. To the idealized, wise grandmother to be soothed and tucked
in. It is she, and the crone archetype with
which I most identify, who will make chicken soup and tell you each
day is a new day, full of possibility.
