Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore Painting

ARTIST'S STATEMENT ELIZABETH S. GALVIN This is probably not a great way to start an artist's statement, but I am highly suspicious of art writing, and doubly so of artists writing about their own art. Artists' statements seem to have so much promise for understanding the art, but they inevitably yield so little. You probably know the feeling: You're looking at a painting and there in your hand, like a lead weight, is this artist's statement that you feel you have to read because it will reveal some mystery, or unlock some secret. You probably hope that the statement will somehow enhance the art, and clarify it, but it never really does. Instead you inevitably get something like, "my art examines the triple intersection (the trintersection) of falsely-induced emotions, light and darkness, and the human condition." In other words, these statements usually give us nothing except for a vague notion that the artists are pulling one over on us. Usually I find myself muttering, "give me a break." You will be relieved to know that I am not going to unlock any secrets for you, or reveal any mysteries, and that is exactly the point. For better or for worse I do not have the ability, or the desire, to intellectualize my art. Part of the reason I stay away from intellectual dissection is that I think that it directs viewer's energy toward interpreting a painting instead of reacting to it. In my ideal world people see a painting and its shapes, colors, patterns, and images, and it causes a reaction, an emotional response. Maybe it reminds them of a place they once visited, or of a happy or lonely time in their life. At this point, the viewer's imagination interacts with the painting. It is a non-intellectual connection. In short, my paintings are emotional not intellectual. They are my imagination rendered on canvas; they are a picture of a world outside of the ordinary, which springs from somewhere inside me. I try to come to my paintings with something I call an "innocent eye." By that, I mean that I try not to approach my canvas with many pre-conceived ideas of what the painting will look like. I might start with a sketch or photograph of some place that has made an impression on me. Then I begin creating an environment in the painting, and I start to look for images that I hope will start popping out onto the canvas. The result is unconscious and instinctive.