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I hope that you are seeing signs of spring return to your surroundings. Like many, I’ve found this year’s relentless stream of news overwhelming—and the fact that it was winter didn’t help. So, I made this painting to try to imagine a more beautiful world, and perhaps to imagine a chorus of birdsong—one loud enough to drown out the bad news.  Song for a cruel world, 2025. Watercolor and graphite on Arches cotton paper. 79.25 x 51.25 inches As with some of my other artworks, this painting leans into beauty. That choice can have broad appeal, but it also raises questions—especially in the context of contemporary art, where “pretty” can feel problematic. Alain de Botton and John Armstrong explore this tension in Art as Therapy (2013), noting two reasons why beautiful art is sometimes dismissed. First, they suggest, that “pretty pictures are alleged to feed sentimentality,” which is seen as an avoidance of complexity—particularly the complexity of real-world problems. Second, there’s a fear that beauty can numb us, making us less critical or less alert to injustice.  Although, I would argue that this painting is also a little sad, making something beautiful as a contemporary artist is to walk a fine line. Still, I’m drawn to this discourse because it makes room for another truth: that optimism matters. As de Botton and Armstrong write hope is a reason for the enduring appeal of beautiful art, “Today’s problems are rarely created by people taking too sunny a view of things; it is because the troubles of the world are so continually brought to our attention that we need tools that can preserve our hopeful dispositions.”
I think that’s what I was trying to do with this painting—for myself, at least. Not to ignore reality, but to hold onto a sliver of hope. Even a fantastical hope: that spring is around the corner, that people might care more deeply for one another, for all living beings, and for the Earth itself—which, even in its imperfect state, gives us everything we need. And this, I believe, is one of the important roles of artists and poets: to imagine something better. Hope is a thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson “Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me. This painting and other works from my Dreamwalking in the Tender Garden/ Soñar despierta series will be on view in Palo Alto on Saturday, May 10th from 1-5 PM during the public Cubberley Community Center Open Studios. Cubberley Community Center, 4000 Middlefield Rd, Palo Alto, CA 94303 |