Dose of Beauty #5

There is a diverse group of paintings, sculptures and mixed media pieces that evoke in me a strong feeling of love. The response is not the same for each piece, but it is always love in some form, or a mixture of love, awe and desire. I thought I would share some of these with you over the coming months. Art to soothe the soul. 

Not long ago, there was a study at the University of London, conducted by Semir Zeki, Professor of Neurobiology, who scanned the brains of volunteers while they viewed 28 works of art. He explained, “We wanted to see what happens in the brain when you look at beautiful paintings.” The experiment concluded when you look at art, “whether it is a landscape, a still life, an abstract or a portrait—there is strong activity in that part of the brain related to pleasure.”  When viewing art they considered most profound, the volunteers blood flow increased in a certain part of the brain by as much as 10%, which is the equivalent to gazing at someone you love.

Below, is a beautiful work by Maine artist Ingrid Ellison. This painting is actually the one I wake up to every morning. When I saw it a few years ago, my insides lit up and without hesitation, I added it to my collection. 

The paintings I respond to most strongly always have an element of expressive drawing. Some loosely recognizable structure that evokes a feeling of immediacy and observation. Like all good works, there is always something new to see in this painting. It gives and gives. 

When describing her process, Ingrid writes in prose:  

Land and sea inspire my senses
In Spring I turn over and work clods of sticky umber
Wriggling worms churn in the leaf litter
Promises of growth hide within each intentional furrow
I plunge a seed into the earth and trust and believe
Tides turn brackish green clear teal and back again
In the cove the undertow roars with diesel engines and gulls
A briny scent fills my head with childhood memories
Discoveries wash ashore with every cycle of the moon
I gather treasures
Celadon lichen, a rusted scrap of iron, faded teal fishing twine, a worn bit of pale silk
The soft inside of an oyster shell, a blaze of caution tape, a plastic reindeer

It’s all information
It’s all color line and shape
Life percolates underground and undersea as paintings percolate in the studio
Working surfaces are a heap with collections and materials

 Ingrid Ellison Seed Cycle, acrylic on board, 20x16 in. 

Below is an image of one of Ingrid's sketchbooks. There is something inherently fascinating about artists’ sketchbooks. Pages of scribblings, ideas, loose lines, smudges and spontaneous musings. The sketchbook is the beginning of a dialogue, a way of seeking and finding.

The journal entry depicts the process of recording and reflecting upon the natural world. The lines wander off towards the edge of the page. Some are thick, some thin and fleeting. The shape is reminiscent of the dried flower but remains open to other possible directions.

On the right, balancing between drawing and painting, is the work on plywood. Revealing the texture and rawness of the board, it retains the fresh, experimental feeling of working on paper. However, the paint layer, with its vibrant color and sometimes opaque, sometimes transparent texture, feels more decisive and final. The secret language of seed pods and stems weaves together underneath a flat, citrus yellow silhouette. More than a depiction, it captures a feeling of things bursting forth. 

This personal account of imagery, real or imagined, can store and collect information that is later manifested into larger works.

Describing her process as intricately as her work, she says, "Minding the shadows I arrange some treasures I might want to draw: a scrap of patterned fabric, a pearl and rhinestone hat pin, a few dried poppy pods from last summer’s garden. I have a small journal that I carry with me and a larger one for holding paint. I have tins of color, brushes and a jar of fresh water. I have scissors, adhesives and shiny bits of glitter. Turning to a new page, I follow light, thoughts and threads of attention. I invent words, record days, and imagine paintings. This ritual of mine has filled over forty volumes of visual journals."