I've never thought of myself as an abstract kind of girl. I have always preferred my art to be concrete, dark and sooty, brooding and enmeshed in philosophical complexities. It's very tiring, actually. In fact, I'm worn to the nub, which is why abstract art is suddenly feeling so fresh and so clean to me. Even liberating. Like a pair of crisp white Chuck Taylors. Perhaps visual simplicity is the perfect antidote to these turbulent times, not that there's anything simple about the art itself. There is a discipline inherent in abstraction's formal nature that speaks honestly about the medium. Its beauty lies in its rightness; a good painting feels like it grew that way, like that's its only possible state of being. Like -- as many people have joked (myself included) -- a child could have made it. Right.
If you read the NY Times story about 94 year old painter Carmen Herrera, you know that it took a lifetime for Herrera to get recognized for her paintings. She worked in anonymity with no expectation of fame or fortune for decades. I'm in awe of this. My personal vanity would never allow for such a thing, and my self confidence could never survive working in a vacuum.
Anyway, Carmen Herrera, this post is for you.
Carmen Herrera in front of her paintings. I want to be this cool when I grow up.