I am working on painting the material culture of the place where I grew up. I was simultaneously a native and an outsider, and I still hold both tremendous love and powerful dislike for the place. I want to paint the structures and landscape of this place partly to document the material creations of people who lived there before me. These objects and spaces, shaped by Polish immigrants over a century ago, are quickly falling into ruin and being crowded out by new ranch houses filled with new generations (often of the same old families). My other motivation for painting these structures is to become intimate with them in a way you can only achieve by attempting to reproduce something. I passed them nearly every day of my childhood and heard stories about them and the people who built or lived in them. I saw these objects and lived with them in all seasons for many years. And I've watched them deteriorate a little more each year when I visit home. Yet when you paint something you must look at it with new eyes. You must figure out its underlying structure, the way light falls on the various textures and angles of its form, and how it interacts with the space around it. If you're off, you know it; the object remains lifeless. But if you get it right, it comes to life and you see the same personality on canvas that you grew to know through your many years in its presence.
I have painted
(Photos to come - I'm working on it.)
I am painting
(Nothing right now, unfortunately. I'm in a writing mode these days, but I'm sure I'll cycle back to painting before too long.)
I would like to paint
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| A trailer on our neighbors' property where Anton, a looming figure from my childhood, used to live. He stayed in the trailer during warm months, but apparently moved into the family's house during the winter. From what I understand he died a few years ago, but his trailer is still there next to the outbuildings.You may note the statuette of St Francis (I believe) to the far left. |
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| I've always been told that this long-abandoned building was once a gas station, which always fascinated me because my folks live pretty far off the beaten track. When I was very little, the roads were still dirt and the phone was still a party line. Evidently there was a rampant moonshine business going on in central Wisconsin during prohibition, so sometimes I wonder if these odd little buildings, not to mention the endless farm outbuildings, were used to make liquor that made its way to Milwaukee, Chicago, or Minneapolis. Anyway, it's a really odd, interesting building and I hope to paint it when time and desire next coincide. |
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