Laraine Armenti

student of painting

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2009 Review

December 20, 2009 by Laraine Armenti, visual artist

Although I made art as a kid and as a student in school, as an adult I did not believe I could paint full time. Cultivation of my gifts, whatever they might be, was only one part of being a daughter, sister, partner, wage earner, friend, and citizen. However, two years ago I decided to give it a try. I began a program of self-directed study to practice art as a profession. It turns out not to be an easy fit. Painting does not feel like a profession nor a hobby but like a calling, as antiquated as that might sound in the omni-present marketplace of 2009.
This year I continued to make still-life images from direct observation on a personal scale. Casually arranged objects were seen in a particular light and painted all at once. I focused on the basics: color and light, composition, open form, point of view, and the calligraphic and material qualities of paint on paper. I wanted to match in oil the contrast and energy of my drawings and to develop consistency in my approach. Clay-like paint handling got a little more fluid. I returned to a limited four-color palette of yellow, red, blue and white.
Outdoor painting traversed the heat and bugs of spring in Virginia, to summer in Vermont and the Charles River in Wellesley, to cold, overcast fall mornings in Natick and Charlestown. I earned a a fellowship residency, a commendation grant, and was juried into group shows. My work space moved to a studio separate from home.
The computer consumed countless hours. Sometimes it seems most of my last twenty years were spent crawling around among tangled electrical cords beneath dangerously overladen equipment tables that in a parallel universe came crashing down and crushed me to death — yet I survived in this one. The computer habit is hard to shake. Or is it a routine?
Imperfect progress. What makes life worth living remains — a bath, a dinner, a conversation, a poem; a list that cannot contain everything that is worthwhile yet must include a well painted painting.

1989_Tilly_wb

Although I made art as a kid and as a student, as an adult I believed I could not paint full time. Cultivation of my gifts, whatever they might be, was only one part of being a daughter, sister, partner, friend, wage earner, and citizen. However, two years ago I had the opportunity to give it a try. I began a program of self-directed study to practice art as a profession. It was not an easy fit. Despite the desire to spend more time painting, for me it is not a job or a hobby but a calling, as quaint as that sounds in the omnipresent marketplace of 2009. Regardless, increased time yielded improvement. As James Thurber said, “There’s no such thing as good art or bad art. There’s only art — and damn little of it.”

This year I continued to paint from direct observation on a personal scale. Casually arranged objects were seen in a particular light and painted all at once. I focused on the basics: color and light, composition, open form, point of view, and the calligraphic and material qualities of paint on paper. I wanted to match in oil the contrast and energy of my drawings. Clay-like paint handling got a little more fluid. I returned to a limited palette of red, yellow, blue and white. Outdoor painting traversed the heat and bugs of Virginia and Vermont, to crisp fall mornings in Wellesley on the Charles River, South Natick, and Charlestown.

I was favored with recognition by receiving a residency and Fellowship, a commendation grant, jury acceptance in group shows, complemented with additional studio space separate from home.

Computers consumed countless hours. Sometimes the last twenty years seem mostly to have been spent crawling through tangled in wires beneath tables dangerously overladen with electronic equipment, that in a parallel universe crashed down and crushed me to death, yet I survived in this one. The habit is hard to shake. Or is it routine?

Imperfect progress. What makes life worth living remains: a bath, a meal, a conversation, a poem; a list that cannot contain everything that is worthwhile yet must include the effort to paint.

ABOVE: Tilly at the Sink, oil on panel, 10 x 12 inches (25 x 30 cm), 1989

Filed Under: Oil, Painting, Still-life Indoor, Writing / Poetry Tagged With: review, Tilly

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