A Flight In the Right Direction
A new piece, and a think on the gift of slowness
This is the both the name of a new piece I’m going to show you, but also, it’s metaphorically relevant. It’s about me getting back into the art studio.
But first…
There's something different happening in my work right now.
I've finished a new piece called A Flight in the Right Direction –- and while it lives within the same series I've been working on, it looks just a little bit different. New imagery is showing up, imagery that comes from sketches and exploration work tied to a much more personal topic than I've previously revealed in my art.
I’ve mentioned before that my landscapes are about more than landscapes. The landscape was the place that I loved disappearing into as a kid. It was my second home. And it’s the backdrop for all kinds of personal revelations I’m only now just beginning to piece together in ways that are wonderful and illuminating but also kind of uncomfortable. But that’s all a good thing. That’s where the best art comes from.
I'm still figuring out how this imagery and these themes should appear in my work. I want to encourage it, but I'm still working on how to synthesize it with the landscape themes I've been exploring for the past few years. All of these elements feel relevant, but they haven't quite coalesced into something that feels aesthetically and thematically tied together yet.
A Flight In the Right Direction
Acrylic, oil pastel, and pencil on 23” x 19” 400g paper
What's different about this piece is motion. The angular lines (from which the title derives) speak to speed and movement against a backdrop of elements that appear far more static, docile, and quiet. I wanted viewers to feel the juxtaposition – perhaps even the discomfort – of this placid landscape scene with bright, colored movement in the foreground.
These angular lines get back to themes of interference and disruption that I explored much earlier in my paintings, and I'm anxious to return to those concepts. They connect to something deeper that I'll be ready to talk more about once these themes can emerge in a way that truly speaks to them. They’re still a jumble, and they’re even more difficult to write or speak about coherently than painting them. (I mean, after all, if I could describe it well, I wouldn’t need to paint it, would I?)
The Gift of Slowness
It has been incredibly difficult to be in the art studio this past year. My day job — itself a job in a creative industry — continues to take nearly all of my energy, fully flexing the creative muscle every day. By evening, that muscle often feels too worked out – there's simply nothing left.
Metaphorically, it feels like if I try to maintain both my art practice and my day job at full creative capacity, I risk injuring that muscle just as I would a physical one. I want to protect my ability to return to my art practice when I can use that creative energy more effectively.
This is why I've been working on paper lately. There's something wonderfully low-stakes about paper compared to canvas. I'm much more willing to make an uncertain mark on paper than on canvas. The work feels less permanent, less consequential – which has allowed me to explore more freely, knowing some pieces can simply be discarded.
But…I actually really like this new one. It's emblematic of the new themes I want to incorporate. I'll continue working on paper more than canvas in the morning months, most likely. Many of these pieces will be discarded, but some may become permanent parts of this new series, which is progressing extremely slowly because of that need to rest the creative muscle a bit.
And strangely, I'm relishing that slowness. I'm taking my time with this series, wanting it to be truly exploratory, something a bit new. The time between pieces allows me to approach them differently when I'm away from the easel –- thinking about them in ways that differ from when I'm standing with a brush in hand.
Will this slowness and time between paintings pay off? I don't know yet, but we'll see.
Upcoming: Spring Show at Fogue Gallery
I'm thrilled to announce that one of my pieces has been accepted into the Spring Show for the Puget Sound Group of Northwest Artists (PSGNWA) at Fogue Studios & Gallery in Georgetown, Seattle!
I've been admiring Fogue and their artists from afar for quite some time, so I'm genuinely excited to have my work shown there. Georgetown is one of my favorite areas in Seattle, and I love that there's a gallery in this vibrant neighborhood. Since I don't often get down to Georgetown, this show provides the perfect excuse to visit.
The show runs April 5 through May 25, and I'll share more details and reveal which piece was accepted when the exhibition begins. I hope those of you who are local will take the opportunity to visit the gallery during the show!
From the Archives
I love coming across this piece when I’m working in my studio. There is something about the color specifically in this one that I still love when I find it amongst my work. It’s available if you feel drawn to it as well.
Time Is the Anchor and the Bird
Acrylic on canvas
20” x 20” x 1.5”
The Return of Spring Fog
As we edge into spring here in the Pacific Northwest, we're experiencing that magical transition weather –- the fog I've come to love so much. This is what creates the weird, ethereal lighting that often appears in my paintings.
I'm excited to see how these misty mornings and shifting light patterns might help me flex that creative muscle when I can make it into the studio. There's something about this transitional season that feels particularly aligned with where my work is heading –- caught between states, neither here nor there, but beautiful in its uncertainty.
Until next time, friends.
—Caryn
Issaquah, WA
April 2025