Rick Monzon: Yellow Pears

The unusual arrangement of the pears, which resemble two pieces of a puzzle, sets the tone for this still life. I will avoid dichotomous Yin/Yang preludes, and will simply try to figure out what is going on here. Following the puzzle comparison, the artist tries to achieve a kind of completeness, or perfection, when all the pieces fit in and form a new image. The difference here is that there is no image to be formed, which prompts to look for a meaning instead. Although, there is a basic image involved: an ellipse. I remember reading in William Hogarth' "The Analysis of Beauty," that in order for a perfect face to shine even more, it needs the contrast of a small defect. Here, (though the perfection is of a geometrical kind) we see the defect in the form a the black spot at the back of the higher positioned pear. Clearly, the artist knows what he is doing.

This is an even composition: two fruits and two tails; almost a perfect symmetry between them. It is known that straightforward symmetry (which entails monotony) may appear tiresome to the eye. This painting can be straining despite the beauty spot; Hogarth also claimed that the artist should avoid monotony at all costs (odd compositions are often considered more beautiful). Rick defies hogarthian dogmas, and chooses the more difficult path, but offering a compensation along the way: the circular movement forms something I already mentioned as characteristic to Rick's oeuvre -- a hypnotic pattern that aims at the subconscious. In fact, a degree of monotony is essential for effective hypnosis. Hence the composition assumes an underlying purpose that justifies the repetition -- a purpose that becomes the meaning mentioned above.

This painting mesmerizes. As often happens, when more parts of the mind become involved, following a simple logic, the viewing experience becomes more difficult and intense. This is a heavily loaded piece that asks the viewer's brain to work, offering in return what may be tentatively described as "aesthetic pleasure." Personally, I like complex ideas and paintings that express such ideas. This piece generates friction between itself and the viewer. Interestingly, friction was the first step to the discovery of electricity and, in turn, mesmerism and hypnosis. If you think I just threw a few more unrelated terms into the bag, just think Edgar Poe's "The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar," or Marie Shelly's "Frankenstein." The artist does not ask for this piece to endear itself immediately, maybe even trying to repel the casual observer. But, it often happens that things we like right away bore us quickly, while things we don't understand, and are indifferent about, reveal their depth only later on.

Carol Marine: Pitcher & Apple #2

Introduction
During my writing in this blog, I have learned that there are three main groups of still life painters: those who prefer minimal compositions, of one or two items, those who aim for complexity, including as much as ten various objects, and those who are comfortable with any arrangement, a trait that makes them universal and all-round artists. Carol Marine clearly belongs to the third category. Moreover, she is similarly at ease with various known painting styles: her exotic and intense palette echoes expressionism, her loose brushwork pays tribute to impressionism, and the final results often carry a suggestion of fauvism. And yet, what fascinates me the most in her work, is the overwhelming sense of personality. It saturates her paintings and inevitably affects the viewer. All of the influences do not impose themselves upon the artist's expression; Marine absorbed techniques and peculiarities from various traditions and schools, and gives them her own individual interpretation, filtering them through the prism of her own vision. Eventually, her style is very definitive and focused, revealing that the artist knows where she is headed -- even when she tries something new. This may sound strange, but I find something masculine in her work. Again, a universal artist, who can transcend femininity and enrich her paintings with the air of the opposite sex.
Marine often experiments, creating a series of works on a single theme, reminiscent of Monet, albeit on a smaller scale. Objects are frequently depicted directly from above, or from another unusual angle. Another characteristic that distinguishes her style, is the creative approach to backgrounds. These are often painted with an unexpected color, or decorated by a piece of cloth. She is similarly inventive when it comes to ornamental finish, covering entire canvases with polka-dots or other unusual patterns. Additionally, it often seems that a filter covers her pieces: it produces a certain fuzziness, as if the paintings suffer from megascopic pixelization. All of these features add a dimension of surprise to her artwork. It may be an acquired taste, but I find it certainly worth acquiring. In spite of so many subjective qualities, or maybe because of them, the final result turns out to be most objective: fresh and enticing paintings.
Carol Marine lives in Austin, Texas, USA. Besides painting, she also teaches in various workshops. She publishes her work on this website and this blog.

This is a luscious piece, with generously distributed paint. It is not realistic, and it was not intended as such. Looking at these colors, vast oriental palaces, tended by innumerable servants and slaves, come to mind -- the behind the scenes of a tale from One Thousand and One Nights. I have recently read a few tales from the collection, and was surprised about the unruly debauchery described in this medieval Islamic book. The apple can certainly represent the temptation and imply on what is happening onstage.

It is interesting to see how the drapery (or the curtain) starts at the background and gradually flows out to the foreground, capturing a considerable part of it. It becomes both a secondary and a primary actor, providing contrast for the pitcher and the apple -- supporting them, both physically and visually -- and simultaneously exposing wide areas in a somewhat flaunting, playful manner. Initially a device, it has earned the right to be an active member of this still life: "Pitcher & Apple on Cloth." It occupies the whole center of the painting, and its azure tint indeed lets the composition breathe, just as the color implies.

In tune with my previous remarks, I would say that the brushwork here is no less than bohemian. As a result, objects appear to be growing, or expanding. The sense of movement is not compositional, but more particular: the pitch and the apple appear to strive for independence, trying to push each other away. Again, the drapery plays a conciliating role, but I can still tell that the other two don't like each other. Ironically, they generate magnetic tension, which in turn adds a comic element to the painting. The apple indeed replicates the lower part of the pitcher, but in such minute proportions as to further elaborate the comic theme. However, all of these separate meanings do not undermine the general impression; eventually, this canvas is more than the sum of its parts.

Mick McGinty: Citrus on Tile

This, in a way, is a tamed version of the Sliced Tomato. The fruits are intact, the droplets are of water, and the surface consists of clean, sterile kitchen tiles. Being so different by way of contrast, this painting also sheds the symbolism: it radiates spontaneity. As often happens in such cases, the effect is disarming and endearing. I have often wondered how artists make their still life so -- well, simply put, -- how they make it so cute, triggering human affection, which usually is directed towards the animate, for instance, pets.

I think that every interpreter harbors a subconscious drive to personify and assign human activities to depicted still objects. In this case, the two lemons snuggle up together: for comfort, or fear of the proceedings, or to gossip on that lonely orange, all bright and stuck-up. This is one of the strengths of the visual arts, to enliven a fruit or a vegetable and raise it to the level of a soul possessing object. The genre speaks for itself: there is the "still," but then, there is also the "life." Perhaps the goal of every painter is to understate the former and to bring out the latter.

By placing the fruit in the kitchen, while leaving out any tools or containers, the artist once again evades a clear sub-generic categorization. This is neither a decorative, nor an obvious practical setting. Possibly, the lemons and the orange have been washed to be further transferred to a living room crystal bowl -- but, possibly, they are to be eaten right away. By keeping the viewer guessing, the artist reminds us that individual objects can be enjoyed visually regardless of the scenery. He invests into mobility within the genre, and thus reflects real world dynamics and its infinite possibilities. It is always interesting to know what happens just before of whatever happens. In a way, the artist manipulates time just as he manipulates space.

This piece speaks geometry. The surface is divided into squares, while the oval citruses form a triangle. Realistic delivery and simple, but effective composition, in the traditional pyramid form, allow for a calm first impression. But, as in other McGinty's paintings, the initial reaction might not be the most revealing. And it is the basic pictorial device of varying geometrical forms that secures meaningful consequent viewings. Ultimately, the artist targets the audience's artistic and imaginative faculties, requiring active viewing. I admire this kind of talent: the one that brings out the talents of other people.

Christopher Stott: Bananas

Another photographic work, this fruit-piece consists of two main patches of color, each developed gradually, through gradation of value. The already familiar wall in the background is gray; darkest on the edges, it brightens towards the center, where it meets the yellow bananas in the focal point. Correspondingly, the bunch's color at this place of contact is at its brightest -- in fact, it is almost white, being lit directly. The yellow then grows darker towards the edges. The radial treatment of value consistently alludes to the source of light. This is not accidental: light, and its side effect, warmth, allow growth; bananas would not sprout or burgeon if it were not for the sun. In fact, there would not be any life at all. Hence, this painting is heliocentric, and as such, it assumes a life affirming meaning.

The interplay in the yellow's value, along with the additions of white and black, gives the fruit an "inner life," as if telling about the edible contents. Drawing and color collaborate. The drawing brings out the form -- "the skin" -- whereas the color -- the soft, sweet meat(what's inside the form). I find particularly notable the detail where the bananas accrete: a small area where there's still some green, the black recedes into the lighter brown, and the wall's gray is visible between the individual fruit. It seems that the artist explores the possibilities and the range of the yellow color in various micro settings. He approaches color carefully and meticulously, aware of its primal force; he cultivates it, translating an agricultural feat into artistic terms -- the black in the lower part of the painting may refer to the soil used in the actual growing process. Without a shade of a cliche, art here imitates life in the most direct way.