Showing posts with label Helen Frankenthaler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Helen Frankenthaler. Show all posts

Sunday, January 1, 2012

A Happy New Year: Artist Melinda Esparza Reflects on Helen Frankenthaler

Sky Fell, Sun Followed--Homage to Helen Frankenthaler Image © 2012 Melinda S. Esparza My wish continues for all of you artists and visitors here. For me, it has been the start of a pleasant new year. I hope it has for you too. Why, by golly, I've gone for a walk on a perfect, perfect, January 1st, 2012 (!), with a couple of not so perfect GSDs, chatted with a man who gave me a message from the Universe without knowing it (made me smile), met our new perfect neighbors (completely kind without a trace of psychopathic tendencies), and had a sit with ma' chil' as the dogs sat on their Coolaroos noshing on treats. So far, so good. 

Reading the NY Times obituary today that Helen Frankenthaler died on the 27th of December brought tears to my eyes--not because she died at the age of 83, from what I assume was a long battle with cancer, who had a loving extended family and a career of great work that included a lifetime of involvement with education, but, because another great woman artist has passed from this fragile plane, when there are so few that get any recognition at all. I painted this painting on the 27th, without knowing that she had passed away. It did remind me then of her, but I had no way of knowing. Her work was so exceptional to me. 

She followed Clement Greenburg's restrictive theory of total non-representational working (Because, he stated, to the ire of many, that representational art had already been done for thousands of years and modern artists should move on with more intellectual pursuits and non-statement/statements of beauty.) I paraphrase, of course, and there may be an academe who would unravel my summary. Please do.

However, Helen Frankenthaler did what amazes, enthralls and stimulates so many with an approach that is incredibly difficult to maintain--creating landscapes that were not--and yet, were. She kept going. She was disciplined. She had her own ideas. She 'outdid' Pollack, but maybe not Krasner (smiling again). I hope you aspire to be like her. I will. 

Now the challenge is to continue to talk about our best female artists, not merely the ten or so from the last century, nor the ten or so male artists from the last century and the 19th when we can't think of women artists at all, nor only those who are famous and are currently 'in.' Helen Frankenthaler quotes from Brainy Quote: "Whatever the medium, there is the difficulty, challenge, fascination and often productive clumsiness of learning a new method: the wonderful puzzles and problems of translating with new materials." "You have to know how to use the accident, how to recognize it, how to control it, and ways to eliminate it so that the whole surface looks felt and born all at once." Gawd, this is perfect. Rest in peace, Helen Frankenthaler. We'll keep our 'eyes on the prize.' 

And thank you, Mavis Staples for musical inspiration.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Artist Melinda Reflects on Secret Ingredients

How about a little play with color, a little play with paint, a momentary suspension of the hierarchy of the left brain critic? Oh, I know, it's in there watching: as you push paint around, visualize your influences, as you consider elements of composition along with value and construct. But you, the artist you, can be the alpha dog of your own paint world. Speaking of influences. I painted this painting today and saw some of my favorite artist mentors. I swear, they live in my head! Previous to painting, I'd been out grocery shopping. I didn't see any painters then... I see the influence if not the mastery of Helen Frankenthaler, Fritz Scholder and Jim Waid. And, as always, my left brain sat in the corner offering a gentle word or two--mostly, thinking of Anne Taintor's, "The Secret Ingredient is Resentment." Anne is my kind of woman. Was this because of my chores today? Left brain response: That's a really ugly painting! Don't let your left brain drive the painting. Your heart knows the paint a lot better. 
Palm #57 Tucson (oil on canvas, 16" x 20").