Details of a work in progress…

In the studio, pushing paint around and breathing the sweet smell of oil paint, I thought about this work in progress like a chef might think about cooking. All the mixing and “tasting” of colors, all the tiny shifts of “flavor” with a slight increase of one color into another, is like preparing a gourmet meal. The preparation of a particular color to lay along-side another color already up on the canvas is like stirring in one ingredient into another and hoping the mix is just right.

Leading a brush loaded with color and drawing a “bead” is a thrilling experience. The neighboring colors create a delicious contrast that is enormously satisfying. Sometimes one of the colors has to shift in tone or change completely to fit into the whole. The process is not discouraging. It is endlessly fascinating to see how the slightest change of one shade or color can bring the entire work into completeness.

Over the years of blending and mixing colors, I have had the personal criteria that the work must “sing” when finished. As I move ahead with “My Israel My Palestine” the bits and pieces on the canvas must come into perfect harmony for the work to “sing.”

The river continues to flow through to the ocean. At the ocean’s edge rip tides surge and twist as the river kisses the lips of rough ocean waves.

The sand is packed from the raining sky, overcast discourages everything.

A driftwood tree pokes out through the packed sand. The sea wraps around the branches, burying her wave by wave.

At the exit a bright white Egret tiptoes across the shadowy wetland.

You should have been there.

Storm

The sky opens between dark clouds and the sea cuts deep rivers into the wetlands.

A complete reversal from the day prior when ducks floated on wide bands of quiet ponds stretched over reddish brown sea grasses that ruffle in the wind.

The sea is an unpredictable companion for the sand that rolls around under the ocean’s bullying or caresses; depending on the weather.

I am always full of excitement to witness primal art exhibitions at Ocean Park Beach.

I love to bend down and collect the treasures the sea throws onto the sand. Last week I filled my shawl with small conches rolled up to rest on the hard sand at low tide.

The constant wind etches into the sand and creates ribbons of wavelike patterns.

The roar of the sea muffles the sound of seagulls. The pelicans are stoic and the snowy plovers comical.

I hurry to snap one more picture before the rain starts.

~ Catalina

I’m at the Museum of Contemporary Art for an ArtTable exhibition event. Kerry James Marshall paints his black history and MOCA shares it in “Mastery”.

Kerry James Marshall creates a roller coaster of work that brings me up short. He shows me growing up black, being black, and experiencing black life, in America, is a wrenching experience. Just when you feel tears well up at the insensitivity of society, he shows you love and joy so deep you realize art liberates everyone.

I leave the retrospective of this master painter with great appreciation for art museums and the role they play in social justice, civil society and happiness. Social Justice because I see with new eyes the inequities that create divisions. Civil society because I leave committed to do my part in expressing the human story and happiness, because I am a better person for witnessing the beauty and courage displayed on the walls of the Museum of Contemporary Art, in Los Angeles.

~ Catalina