Sharing

As artists working today, we have a stronger (topical) autonomy over the visibility of our work/selves online. This is an opportunity to make our intent visible which is a duty not historically ours as artists and women. Sometimes, I embrace this opportunity and other times, I find that I dissolve into social media absence when considering how to present image+text/ the assumed comprehensive self (or rather, the icon of) to “followers” and potentials. I recall my graduate seminar course (pre Instagram) titled, The Artist as Hustler; Who’s it for? What’s it for?

When I can answer these questions for myself, I delight in the multitude of meanings found in images that themselves hold a multitude to meanings for me. For the sake of 21st century vulnerability, I will continue to share my paintings about my experiences and the space between people @emevlac and here on my site. I will also visit this blog more frequently. The good gravy and growth is when I am graced by a studio visit, acquisition, or note from you. Thank you for your visit, here!

Thoughts on Painting

I see painting as a way to contemplate the nonverbal space between people. The paint makes it tactile. The inevitable incongruity, asymmetry, and fluidity of that space is translated by amalgamations of color, line, and figure forms. When lucky, the painting itself becomes a gesture. In my process, I re-perform experiences that have been shared with me in videos, witnessed in person, or embodied. Much like communication itself, the visual content and actions in paint compress multiple perspectives, time, actions, and memories—creating a visual placeholder for the inbetween.

Musing and moralizing and therapizing, oh my!

What is a physical gesture that can potentially be interpreted as playful, and or aggressive, reverent, hasty, sexual, loving....?

Painting, and it’s translation, comes from a compression of many instances in time together.

What is an image of the space between two people? My paintings are space-holders. 

These small works on paper are quick—the image that comes from slinging around paint, empathizing, listening, watching, and remembering something seen or experienced is itself, a gesture.

Interpretation is subjective, intent gets blurred, communication fractured. This inevitable truth about human interaction is my greatest anxiety, and so I make lots of work about it (expensive lessons in vulnerability) and show myself that growth and beautiful things exist here. Painting, I love you.