Birth, love and death are landmarks of human condition. As I open my heart to accept the reality of a passing, I open my heart to my own humanity. The sorrow of loss is the sorrow of the ages. It is poignant, personal and particular, yet universal. Words seem to fumble during such times of deep emotion. Words seem futile and sorry surrogates for comfort. My work this week reflects an absence. I generate paintings using a language of place, landscape and interior space. At the same time, at a time when the futility of insignificance seems to chant through my head I wonder what for and why.
"It’s not about facts, it’s about feelings. It’s about remembering feelings and happiness. A definition of art is that it makes concrete our most subtle emotions. I think the highest form of art is music. It’s the most abstract of all art expression." Source: Tarlow, Lois. Art New England, April-May, 1994.
Painting is spiritual and no figurative in her mind. It is about universal ‘truths’. Her work is clear and well crafted. She resists the drama of diversions. She was born in Canadian wheatfields and lived in the Southwest desert.
The winds of change ripple lightly. In the face of death I feel the resiliency of life moving me onwards. For an instant, like a flash of lightning at night, I have seen things very clearly.
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