Why Aren’t You Painting Flowers?
Jimmy Wright, “Pompeii Red and Blue”, pastel, 31 x 29 in.
Those that know me know that I am rarely behind the curve--if anything I generally shoot a bit too far afield. Curating a show with a paradisal theme may be one of those times. “Bless his heart” you’re thinking with an attendant eye-roll, “no ego there”. Bear with me; I’m not just bragging (though I am doing a bit of that). We are all sentient beings, artists especially, but most of us have learned to turn a deaf ear to the whispering angels that alight on our shoulders when we are lost or confused---distancing ourselves ever the more when they barge in on our dreams. I’m not sure why I didn’t pick up that after a certain age one ought to give up imaginary friends--but my benevolent wingmen came in mighty handily whilst growing up gay, arty and sensitive in a town and at a time when none of those things were checked off on the plus side of the column. I could smell trouble before the perpetrator thought to brew it--and steer clear and stay alive.
This brings us to flowers, paradise and making art that aspires to a terrible beauty godlike in its perfection. This is the creationist extension of clairvoyance --an alchemical will to imagine and forge a novel form that captures, if only for the fleeting now, all that lies beyond the world’s wildest dreams. Dare I say that none of this comes as a surprise. You and I are artists; it comes with the territory.
So when I decided we needed to do a show about flowers (and I didn’t mean only depictions of flowers, though it can be just that, but also abstract and emblematic expressions of said motif) I had no rational reason for putting out that call; just the faintest stirring, a sentient influx, an angel’s whisper. Concurrent with that inspiration, and perhaps to spite it, I was experiencing an ever-present sense of dread. I had it for months---a worrying background clatter, like something was soon to break. But never had I imagined we would be where we are at this very moment---with the veil of life stretched so thin.
It makes perfect sense now; our instincts always do when we listen and trust. Certainly we must stay aware; but we must also distance that higher part of our nature from that which clamors and clanks with fear. Now is the time to go far within, past the noise and dread, and imagine a best outcome. Design a respite, a flowery expression of light, hope and love that will serve us all in our collective effort to smile again.
It’s what artists have always done and done very well. It may just be what we do best. To help you along with this artists’ call to love and life we are extending our entry deadline to April 29th --that’s a bit more precious time to commune with your muse, if not the divine.
We look forward to seeing what you have created.
In abundant love and health,
Michael
Il Paradiso: Walled Gardens, Pastorals and the Salvation of Nature