All last summer, I reveled indulgently in green. The hot, rainless days persisted for weeks, then months. But in my studio, I monoprinted, painted, collaged, and drew in green.
The fact that I’m a gardener makes my affinity for this color understandable. And often, my work–the drawing, especially–takes botanical turns. But these facts don’t really explain why I reach so often for this color. I think it has something to do with my need for connection and renewal.
This 12”x12” painting, “Greenfield” (pictured below), is one of my favorite recent works. It’s abstract, with no botanical references at all. But I find its pale hue and small clusters of quadrilaterals restful, somehow.
I call this 6”x6” painting, seen below in progress, “Green Sun Dress.” The title is intentionally composed of three words, which relate to each other in pairs: Green Sun. Sun Dress. Green Dress. Meanwhile, those two pink windows remind me of some of the searingly hot weather that so many of us experienced last summer.
Summer gave way to autumn, and I started a powerful new online course with California artist Sara Post. We rocketed through six distinct themes in abstract drawing in about as many weeks. The work that I produced expressing our first theme, landscape, was awash in green. Jenkins green acrylic paint. Chromium oxide green pan pastel. A greeny-black watercolor pan that I loved.
I like blue. And I love, love, love neutrals: grays, tints, chromatic whites. I even have a considerable, recurrent affection for pink! But green seems to best express my yearning for the continuing wheel of seasons. Here in the Pacific Northwest, I can find green in any month, by looking out at the hemlocks and cedars near my backyard. And by reaching for paint, pastels, and crayons, and more.