My Painting Style

thoughts explored through Birds and Movies

I have painted many, many birds during my art career (and even before!) And if you’re thinking, oh, you mean like 100? 200? Keep going!

Roughly calculated, I have painted more than 500 birds over the years.

And I’m pretty sure after my last giant bird extravaganza (The NeverEnding Story) I said something along the lines of “I’m never painting another bird again”. (Much like I once said I’d never run another 1/2 marathon.) But then came the perfect storm of newly found down time with plenty of opportunities to watch the birds out my studio window (as well as time to find new workout routines) recently followed by 4 solid days of bird watching for the Great Backyard Bird Count, and I just couldn’t help myself. I started painting birds. Again. (And, as it happens, all the hiking while bird finding will come in handy, as my family has also convinced me to train for another 1/2 marathon - I’m looking at you ankles! Don’t let me down!)

In fact, despite the cold and rainy winter storm weather we had here in Oregon during the count, I had so much fun finding, identifying, and counting birds this year (my 2nd year participating) that I decided to dedicate a painting to the 44 bird species I found and cataloged.

I accidentally did let one extra bird slip into the mix - a House Sparrow - who was not seen by me during the event (even though we typically have many of them here), but was painted nonetheless due to a clerical error when mapping out the painting. Oops! (Yes, after I titled and published the painting I found there’s actually 45 birds in the painting - for those who want to count.)

As I was working on this painting I was also thinking about the progression of my bird paintings over the last 15 years from whimsical shapes, shadowy backdrops, little splashes of color, and recognizable yet stylistic versions of specific birds. Each instance of bird served a purpose beyond it’s bird self. Did I want to reflect mood? Tell a story? Invite a conversation? Celebrate nature? Promote conservation? These are the questions I would ask myself with my work - sometimes intuitively and other times explicitly. These questions would then become the catalyst for my painting style.

My birds paintings (combined with a recent viewing of “The Intouchables”) also started me thinking more broadly about art styles and how viewers relate to or interpret art. As you can see, while I may oscillate between a gestural and more descriptive style, I am not one to aspire to realistic interpretations of my subject matter, and I actually try to keep pushing myself to a more abstracted form as I love work that is so completely open to interpretation and imagination that I can immerse myself in it.

Personally, I find realism, while it can be a technical achievement for an artist, to be quite simplistic and uninteresting unless the artist makes the composition or nature of the subject the star - not relying on rendering skills alone. I do not actually think of rendering as an artistic skill. While it requires significant observational skills, motor control, and materials knowledge, I feel it is simply one tool in a toolbox and should be used as such. Unfortunately I find too many young artists (myself included, in my younger days) are encouraged by family, friends, and even teachers in only this one skill. The sky is blue. Grass is green. And a horse should look like a horse. Funnily enough, even reality often proves otherwise! There are many other ways to teach observational and technical skills without using a false reality (no, skies are not always blue) or requiring realism. As one professor put it when looking at my plein air painting, “if there is a bend in the tree trunk, paint the bend that you see… unless there is a reason to do otherwise.” I often find reasons…

For me, the power of art comes from the deeper layers found within a painting either through the context provided by the artist or by the viewer (or both). Getting back to that movie - in The Intouchables, the character Phillipe is drawn into the emotion of an abstract painting that appears to be a simple white background with red splatters of paint. “There’s a lot of serenity in it. A certain violence too.” This painting is brought to life by the character’s own story and how he sees the arc of his own life reflected in the painting. (Side note: this scene is made even better with the counter response of the other main character, Driss, and his astute and humorous observations about the often inflated art-auction-house world which he later rebukes with the unbidden help of Phillipe). In another scene, Phillipe is entranced by a surrealist depiction of a woman facing away from the viewer. Phillipe asks Driss, “What do you think of her?” He then continues, “I imagine her standing up turning around and I discover her face at last.” His personal life story of being confined to a wheelchair and losing love and then searching for its possibility once again finds its way into the story of the art.

I have felt that connection which Phillipe portrayed. My favorite such moment was during my first visit to the Chicago Art Museum years ago. As I wandered about, I eventually found myself in a contemporary art collection in front of very large blue canvas. I wish I could remember the artist, but it was very reminiscent of Mark Rothko. It was formed with interesting marks, brushstrokes, and the slightest variations and movement of deep, dark, blue. It enveloped me as I stood in front of it, like falling deep into the darkest lake. I was surrounded by the depth and beauty of what to some might seem like a single note of blue paint. However, it was memorable enough for me to have its emotional impact stay with me even 20 years later.

Reflecting on this moment, I am reminded of another favorite movie scene and a TV scene that portray this connection. I must admit, we are huge Marvel fans in my household (my husband also being a comic book collector since childhood). One of my favorite Marvel moments, shown here, is from the Daredevil series when the villain, Wilson Fisk (aka Kingpin), stands before a large abstract painting in white. The curator (and later, love interest) remarks, “…it’s not about the skill required; not even about the art itself. All that matters is how does it make you feel?” Fisk replies, “It makes me feel alone.” This painting becomes a frequent visitor to the series, and often allows Fisk to reflect on his emotions, the painting morphing as the character develops. More lightheartedly, I also enjoy the scene in Ant Man, shown here, when his buddy, Lois, shares his thoughts on an actual Rothko “There was this one Rothko, that was sublime!” A great scene for any reasons!

It is in these connections and personal experiences, real and portrayed, I find the true value of art. What story can the artist tell in which the viewer can then pick up and find themselves, completely immersed? How can I, as an artist, share my stories and emotions in a way that invites others to also reflect and share in the moment? I want my art viewers to experience and celebrate the beauty of the world around them. Sometimes that’s with a spot of color to showcase a flitting bird and sometimes that’s with a detailed 44 bird (correction, 45 bird) painting to celebrate each and every bird we can find and identify. But mostly, it is why I paint nature with vibrancy and joy, typically choosing gestural strokes over precision. Choosing expressions of movement over details of realism. And while my latest work captures a bit of both of these worlds, I hope to move this initial concept of a cacophony of birds into a new abstract painting which allows greater personal reflections of myself as well as my viewer to find new stories and meaning along the way, together.