John Dalton

This is lovely James.

This is great Kari.

This is lovely Sofia.

This is fantastic Karen, well done.

“I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.” 
These are the opening lines of American poet, Joyce Kilmer’s, lovely poem, “Trees.” In the poem, he talks about the difficulty of representing the beauty and majesty of nature in art.  Whether that art takes the form of a poem or a painting the difficulty is the same.

How many times have you had the experience where you come across something amazing in nature, a stream, a rock formation, or a majestic tree and you are transfixed by it. You are stopped short by the beauty. Time seems to wait.
Then you remember you have a camera with you and you wonder, “Should I try and capture this? Is there any point? It is so beautiful and complete in itself. Any attempt I might make would be pointless.”

If you are an artist you might think, “Should I try and sketch this and maybe make a painting later? Would I ever be able to recreate what I am seeing - how it is making me feel?”
This was the problem facing Marlene Llanes when she made this painting. Instead of trying to solve this problem, she went a different route.
Instead of trying to recreate a grove of trees and hope it communicated how trees make her feel, she did something more interesting and beautiful. 
She used surrealism.

Surrealism is a movement in painting that was born in the 1920’s. According to one of its originators, the poet and critic André Breton, “Surrealism was a means of reuniting conscious and unconscious realms of experience so completely that the world of dream and fantasy would be joined to the everyday rational world in “an absolute reality, a surreality.” 
There are many notable surrealist painters, René Magritte, Max Ernst, Joan Miró, but the painter most associated with surrealism is Salvador Dali. And it is Dali that comes to mind when I look at this painting. The way Marlene handles the sky is very reminiscent of Dali. He was a stickler for technical excellence and I think he would have approved of Marlene’s technical ability.

The beautiful thing about Marlene’s use of surrealism is that she manages to convey the essence or spirit of trees without getting caught up in trying to represent them. The trees in this painting are identifiable without being real. They are real and unreal at the same time.  Marlene manages to convey the effect trees have on us. What they symbolize for us. How they appear in our dreams.

Unlike a Dali painting, the surrealism here is subtle which makes it very powerful. The effect of looking at the painting is like trying to focus one’s eyes.  The trees are real yet unreal. It is daytime yet there are long evening shadows. Where is the light source that is creating the shadows?

For me, the key to this painting are those shadows. They draw us in and connect us to the trees and at the same time they reach out from the trees and connect to us, or we hope they do at least. 

The shadows represent our yearning to be one with the timeless peace of the trees.  

What Marlene has managed to do in this painting is wonderful. She has made a painting of trees and light and mystery.

There is a common misconception that the measure of a good portrait is determined by likeness. 
Does the portrait look like the person?
This is bogus.
A trip to any portrait gallery will show you that.
Sure, you can apply the likeness criteria to contemporary portraits. The portraits you can recognize but once the subjects of the portraits start to slip into history the real measure of a portrait begins to emerge.

For me, a successful portrait needs to have two qualities. It needs to be universal meaning you shouldn’t need to know who the person is to be captivated by it. It should strike a familiar chord. It should convey an aspect of the human condition that we all recognize.

This quality of universality is the complete opposite of likeness. The portrait could be a terrible likeness but still be a brilliant portrait.

The other quality it needs to have is intrigue. It needs to convey that the sitter has a rich inner life without giving that inner life is away. 
It needs to hint at a narrative without telling the story. 
It should trigger questions like, 
“What is that person thinking about? 
I can tell they are thinking about something. 
And I can tell that what they are thinking about is significant. 
I just can’t tell what it is.
WHAT IS IT?”

Simone has managed to include both of these qualities in this portrait.
I haven’t a clue if this is a good likeness of the sitter or not and it doesn’t matter. 
I recognize the mood. 
The uncomfortable feeling when one is scrutinized.  Whether that scrutiny happens in the taking of a photograph, the painting of a portrait, or the loving gaze of a concerned parent, the feeling is the same. 
“Stop looking at me.”

The story is even more intriguing. 
Why is she wearing the glasses? 
Has she been asked to wear them? 
Was she caught trying them on and now someone wants to take a picture of her wearing them? 
Who is it that is looking at her that has her so pinned by their gaze? 
Why doesn’t she run away? She obviously wants to.
And on and on . . .
The more I look the more questions come to mind and the more my eye travels around the painting looking for clues.

That is why this is a brilliant portrait that will continue to delight and intrigue for many years.

Painting animals well is not easy.
Sure, it is easy enough to make a good representation of an animal. The tricky part is not to tip over into sentimentality or, god forbid, kitsch.  And I’m not talking about Odd Nerdrum Kitsch, I’m talking about kitsch kitsch.  We have all seen versions of Cassius Marcellus Coolidge’s Dogs Playing Poker.

That is the challenge with painting animals. To convey the initial spark that triggered the artist in the first place, the innate character of the animal. To convey that without falling into the trap of anthropomorphizing the animal. 

I am not against anthropomorphization it can be very cute. I grew up with Scooby Do and Top Cat and loved them.  And it is certainly profitable, just ask Walt Disney or Yuga Labs - the people who made The Bored Ape Yacht Club NFTs.

The difficulty with anthropomorphization is that it has little to do with conveying the essence of an animal. It is all about projecting human qualities onto the animal. This is very hard for us not to do because we are wired to do it. It is well known in the automotive industry that the front profile of a car, the “face,” of the car if you will, is vital for sales. Cars with “Happy” faces sell considerably better than those that don’t.

In the extreme, it takes over. We have all met someone who has a name for every object in their house. I vividly remember one woman who had a name for each of her umbrellas.

This is why it is so difficult to paint animals well. The artist has to fight against the natural inclination to anthropomorphize the animal and instead push for something more authentic. They have to stop any projection and let the information all travel one way only. From the sitter, the animal, to the artist. 

This is why I like this painting so much. Phil has managed to capture the essence of this cow without projecting onto it. It is clear that he has received the cow and created his painting around that reception. “ . . . she seems to have an opinion when I speak to her.”

But there is so much more to like about this painting - from the name to the colors, to the composition. I can’t help but smile when I look at it. 

The impasto in the brushwork really creates the illusion of fur and makes me want to reach out and touch it. 

The use of color is surprising and intriguing. Blue, green, pink, and orange fur? But in a lovely way, it makes sense.

The blocks of color used for the field, mountains, and sky keep the background simple and upbeat while keeping the eye focused on the foreground. The little cameo of the dog in the background balances the composition and adds a whimsical touch.  

I don’t know cows that well, do you?
Through Phil’s masterful creation of this painting, I feel like I know this cow.
I would like to have this cow greet me every morning.
I think that would be dandy.

This work is a celebration of the idea of New York. These are the fire escapes Warhol walked past in the night going from party to party. The fire escapes Basquiat took shelter under from the rain. They are the fire escapes Woody Allen characters take refuge on waiting for jealous spouses to leave so they can come in out of the cold. The fire escapes Henry Miller called up to reluctant lovers on. They are the scene of a million chases, escapes and near misses.

These are the fire escape we would like to sit out on and inhale the atmosphere of the city. The fire escape we would like to sit and look to the distant lights and think deep thoughts while smoking, even though we don’t smoke. They are the fire escape of our dream.

With this work, the iconic red fire escapes of New York are brought to life and set against colors that are felt more than seen. 

The horizontal and diagonal pathway the fire escapes make down the canvas creates such so soothing journey for the eye that as soon as it reaches the bottom it can’t help but float to the top again to eagerly make the downward journey again. It is this intoxication for the eye that sets this work apart. 

The way the wall that the fire escape is attached to has been abstracted causes the fire escape to become sculptural and to float independent, at once sitting into and separated out from the picture plane.  This again is a delicious visual experience for the eye. Like seeing the tree and the forest simultaneously.
Delightful!

At two by one and a half feet this two-inch thick work is as solid and bold as the structures, it depicts and forms a strong statement on any wall on which it is hung.