LIke any child, when you don't hear from me, you know I'm up to something.
I've been taking "a break" from painting to play with the third dimension and use up some old mat board. Of course, that doesn't mean that I've sitting around with my feet up, sipping coffee - haven't learned how to do that yet. This little detour entails cutting matboard into thousands of tiny squares, gluing the squares up into blocks, sanding the blocks, then texturing them.
Eventually, when there are enough blocks, they'll be nestled around the painting "How We See the World", creating a sculptural transition from the plane of the painting surface to the wall that it hangs on.
Why go through all this work?
Well, I need to do more than paint. I live in the third dimension, I want to create in the third dimension. Colors are lovely, but to put them in context is lovelier. "How We See the World" is in blocks of information and experience. Two dimensional ideas are lovely but can be more meaningful and lovelier still when we build them into our three dimensional existance.
Anyhow, what child doesn't love playing with building blocks?
Flaming red maples subdued by increasing cold and darkness, go dormant. Sap fails to rise. The leaves dry into ruddy, seven-fingered hands that clench shut into tight fists which shake angrily in the frigid winds.
- Nancy Boudreau
This painting is 5 x 7 inches and is acrylic on gessoed mat board, housed in a cream colored mat. The text above is handwritten on the back of the painting, which is also signed and dated.
Not always pretty! Clean canvas disappears under chaos of color, pristine new paint tubes squeezed and crinkled, brush bristles mashed, food grade containers coated with layers of acrylic residue, a white apron carelessly smeared, a pallet of rainbows becomes thunderclouds at midnight.
- Nancy Boudreau
This painting is about 11 x 20 inches and is acrylic on gessoed wood panel, raw edges sealed with gel medium, all trussed up and ready to hang in your home or office. The text above is handwritten on the back of the painting, which is also signed and dated. Feel free to contact me directly at firstname.lastname@example.org with questions, comments or a soul searching discussion of the workings of the universe (with humor).
While jogging last weekend, my wandering attention was captured by the sight of a flaming-red maple crowning a green lawn. The contrast of blue sky and gray bare branches further emphasized this ecstasy of light and color. Backlit leaves are the stained glass of my wild cathedral.
- Nancy Boudreau
This painting is 10 x 12.73 inches and is acrylic on gessoed panel, framed. The text above is handwritten on the back of the painting, which is also signed and dated. Please contact me directly at email@example.com, if you're interested in owning this painting.
A view of Bennett's Pond in Ridgefield Connecticut, hiking along the Ives Trail, on the western edge of the pond facing east. Wind ripples the surface of terraced water levels, the work of beavers. A fallen trunk, the base sculpted, chiseled by incisors, now used as an elevated platform from which rodent kings observe their domain. The single drowned maple, stands in the foreground as if thrust into the water like a javelin heaved by Paul Bunyan from towns away.
In northwest Connecticut, November is the month of sunrises and sunsets. Leaves drop in the last week of October and by the first week of November the sky is suddenly exposed. Day length and the set of the clock aligns sunrise and sunset with commuting hours, when dazzling distractions cause traffic jams. In this painting, the center of New Fairfield, looking east, clouds are momentarily washed with luminous hues I cannot reproduce.
A strange morning, this Halloween, waking thinking that it was Monday, not Sunday, eager to resume work in the studio. A sweet, hot cup of coffee enjoyed while perusing the internet, discovering other artists, among them, Painting Well, who donates 100% of her profits to cancer research. My belabored selection, a rare purchase. . . then, apropos of Halloween, in that last sip of coffee, I notice something alien swilling around my mouth. Ptah, ptah!!! Expectorated remains examined between index finger and thumb: a soggy spider, who'd somehow fallen into the coffee pot, drowned and ended up in that last swig of caffeinated brew.
"Life Line" is dedicated to a friend, recently and suddenly taken by death.
- Nancy Boudreau
The painting above is 16 x 20 inches, Golden acrylics and gel mediums on stretched canvas.
A different technique here, carving the image out of a gray middleground. The brush is used like a chisel or pencil with shadows pushing the surface away and highlights pulling the surface forward. The subject of acorns is loaded. There's a super abundance of acorns in the northwest hills of Connecticut this year, impossible to ignore. Walking through the woods, they roll under foot, in a subversive way. I compare them to ideas, little nuggets of truth that are sometimes inconvenient, though fruitful, full of potential. Most are consumed with little result, some take root and grow into impressive trees/structures/organizations. We, the artists and writers, are acorns scattered on the internet.
An October battleground between light and dark, the lowering angle of the sun displaying increasing weakness as cold and shadows begin to take over a little more each day. Despite brightly lit leaves passing from chartruese to yellow, it's almost impossible to feel anything but a pessimistic sense of loss this time of year. The myth of Persephone's abduction by Hades comes to mind.