The Universe Under The Microscope
To the untrained eye, abstract art can sometimes look like chaos. It can look like a storm, a mess, or a random collision of colors.
But if you have ever looked through a microscope at a single cell, you know the truth: Chaos is actually the structure of life.
As I navigate my shift from painting animal guides to creating pure abstraction, I am often asked what my new work "represents." When I painted a bear, the subject was obvious. But now that the bear is gone, what remains? Actually something even more meaningful for me.
The answer lies in my first pillar of creation: The Primal Self.
The Biology of Being
We often think of the "Primal Self" as a behavior. It is our instincts, our "wild" side, the part of us that howls at the moon. But before we are behavioral, we are biological. That was a journey I, as an adoptee have been exploring wildly.
My home is often filled with textbooks on anatomy and physiology. Because I am intrigued by the body wholeheartedly but also my husband teaches anatomy and physiology! I am fascinated by the imagery of the body at a microscopic level and truly what the body can accomplish. I love seeing the way muscle fibers weave together creates tension. The way cells cluster creates community within. The way blood flows creates a river more powerful than any landscape I could paint. It is beautiful.
When I look at these microscopic images, I don't see science; I see art. I see movement. I see the body, and everything that lives inside of us.
I see the rawest, most honest form of existence.
My new abstract work is an attempt to visualize this internal universe.
When I layer glazes of deep red or scrape back paint to reveal the white canvas underneath, I am mimicking the layers of the body: the skin, fascia, muscle, and bone. I am painting the Primal Self not as a character in a story, but as the vessel itself.
This approach changes how I move in the studio. I am no longer trying to capture the likeness of a creature. I am trying to capture the feeling of being alive in a body. That is a feeling that truly comes alive when I am painting.
The textures in my work represent the resilience of our tissues. The fluidity represents the constant motion of our internal systems. The colors such as earthy, bloody, and vibrant hues are the colors of our own makeup.
I believe this is why abstract art resonates so deeply, even when the viewer "doesn't understand" why they are drawn to it. Something pulls you in, captures you and you can’t stop thinking about what it was.
You are drawn to it because it looks like you. The vibrant and beautiful YOU.
When you hang one of these pieces on your wall, you aren't just hanging a decoration or a pretty picture. You are hanging a mirror to your own internal biology. It is a daily reminder that beneath our polished exteriors, our clothes, and our societal roles, we are made of this beautiful, complex, and vibrant matter.
We are primal. We are kinetic. And we are masterpiece of design.
The Universe is not just out there among the stars. It is right here, under the microscope, and on the canvas. It is right here, within us all, connecting us to something remarkable.
