In 1999, I was living in an apartment with someone else's art. A friend had ended a relationship, and not wanting to get rid of her ex-mother-in-law's art, and not really wanting to give it back either, she decided to let me hang it, indefinitely. I loved it, too. There was a real chunky impasto-style painting of a pig, some Spanish-style buildings, an old truck, a kitchen table. These paintings were large, and mostly pretty good, (although there was one that I could not fully enjoy because of what I felt were mistakes). I knew I could do better, or at least as well, so I bought a blank canvas that was 48"x48" and roped it to the roof of my Geo Prism, and drove home very slowly. The canvas believed itself to be a sail, and kept trying to hoist, but eventually we got home, going about five miles per hour.My thought was to paint a floating head of Queen Elizabeth I, but with a crown that was elaborately and unnecessarily colorful and impossible. She was an austere symbol of my new singleness, and would look great over my couch. It was 1999. I excitedly painted the blue-sky background, with evening clouds. It hung that way, over my couch for a long time.
Eventually, I finished ChrisMichell Phone, married Sean, had my baby, and moved. The artist who had painted the pictures that decorated my home, had found out through a network of people that I had them, and wanted them back. It made sense that I should work on my gigantic canvas again, only, my idea of an austere, virgin Queen, married to her country, didn't fit with my reality so much, so I set out to paint a phone painting that would be a story of my love for my husband.
I drew an outline and blocked it in with blue, (as I had done with the other phone). I was still more concerned with texture and color than with form. I had originally expected it to be more abstract, with each outlined segment filled with a flat texture, but I did begin to shape the phone in each segment that I worked on.
The first was the wooden hook. It resembles a man-tree, which is how I saw my husband at that time. He was holding up the whole world, with a strength that looking back, I can only account for as ignorance that what he was attempting was completely improbable. There is a line, where the hook joins with the phone, that is a glowy blue color, showing that inner energy showing through.
I then painted river rocks, on the dial, with the idea of painting flowing water and floating yellowish leaves. They were inspired by leaves floating in an animal enclosure on an episode of the "Crocodile Hunter." It was so gorgeous and restful, in what was otherwise a very frenetic episode. To suggest the holes in the dial, I used cogs, because my husband really isn't all restfulness, and flowy, watery emotion. He's actually a great problem-solver, and kind of a geek. He loves work. He actually helped me to create eliptical templates that had the proper perspective on the computer. I have said that if he did not have work, he would chew off his arm in boredom.
Around the time I was working on the dial, I moved the canvas to an upstairs hallway, turned to the wall. My toddler, equipped with chalk, applied some verticle lines to the back of the canvas, which was a fair imitation of what I had been doing to it, I suppose. They are still there.
The gold-toned filigree has a sort of personal symbology for me. I think of filigree as an admiration of nature; part of that desire that humans have to harness, and yet re-create what was here when we got here. So, it is the artificial representation of the natural. It also represents to me Sean's complexity, vanity, and balance. Behind the filigree structure is that watery blue glow of an unknown energy source.
By the time I got to the beach-handset portion of the painting, I'd been married a while. A watery theme again, but this time, more about the relaxation of the rhythm of married life. The bell was originally inspired by the scene in the animated movie Ice Age, where animals whooshed through tubes of ice. The way light glows in ice is fascinating. But my communication with Sean is not "icy" so I ended up scrunching up my daughter's satin nightgown onto a cardboard support, in a tupperware bowl, as a model. It shows the comfort and trust I have, in my communication with my husband. It is closer, in perspective, because communication is the dominant feature of my relationship with Sean.
Finally, knowing the kurfuffle over Chris's phone not having a cord, I decided to make Sean's prominent. It also helped to balance out an awkward, square composition. I literally used a phone cord with a wire in it, set up a light in a dark place, and took pictures of it.What began as a challenge to myself to decorate my apartment, has become a very personal piece for me and my family. I'm pleased with the outcome, even though it took years to finish, and it has taught me a lot about painting, along the way.
http://www.katrinaernst.com/
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