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Greece Residency and Exhibit

Marietta Leis | December 1, 2013 - 7:00 am

As many of you know the Artist Residencies I do reflect where I think I need to be for my work or life, or both. The Ionian Greek island of Kefalonia called to me this year as I felt after a respite of painting green I needed blue again. Having lived by the Jersey Shore growing up and then living in Los Angeles for 20 years I confess to occasionally feeling water deprived in New Mexico. In Albuquerque our West Mesa has that open horizontal expanse but lacks the accompanying water element. When a field of water dominates my horizon view it makes the world seem without obstacles, endless and open. A place to dream!

After doing my research the Ionian Center for Arts and Culture on Kefalonia intrigued me. The Center is a hub of advanced education that encourages projects of science and art. It also hosts workshops, exhibitions and Residencies. Moreover Kefalonia is known as the “Green Island” but is also surrounded by the Blue Ionian Sea. In that setting I would have the distinct luxury of both blue and green inspiration. Furthermore the writer Homer and the poet Byron both found muses there so I would be in excellent company.

Luckily my application was accepted and my photographer-husband, David Vogel also applied and was accepted. We then wrote a joint proposal for our work and exhibit. All this was done a year in advance but that year sped by and we found ourselves in the Kefalonia village Metaxáta soon enough. The Center is a white marble columned building of impressive architecture. Our rooms had a balcony with views of the surrounding red tile house roofs, the olive trees and the sea—bliss. To top this off my studio had plenty of natural light, ample tables and facilities.

The closest town, Argostoli has a port, plaza, resources for supplies and cafés for coffee and people watching—a great place to hang out. The Island is relatively large so at the first opportunity a kind new Greek friend took us on an introductory day trip of the West side of the Island. He brought us to a monastery overlooking an emerald sea housing a monk of an ancient age. Michael also showed us a lovely beach accessed by a hairpin road with white sensually worn smooth rocks. As a rock lover I had to select a couple to add to my collection at home. I believe that rocks hold the energy of ‘place’.

Next we visited a rock quarry—the island does after—all, sit on rock. I’m sure a form of this will show up in my art one day…piles of slabs and fossils. We were then guests at the quarry owner’s home where his wife prepared a wonderful and typical Kefalonia meal. Everything we ate was from their garden, their cow or chicken. Such a treat and typical we found of Greek hospitality and generosity.

The beautiful turquoise and blue waters and the storm laden skies soon sent me indoors to my studio where I worked on a group of sea/sky 9’ long scrolls with Japanese inks and Washi paper. I should mention that the first weeks we were in Kefalonia we had rain—lots and lots of rain. Not just rain but rainstorms accompanied by violent winds and incredible lightning storms that lit the night skies to daylight. The weather was really a Drama Queen demanding attention and getting it from us.

While working in the studio during the days I was also doing some digital drawings in the apartment on my iPad in the evenings trying several drawing and paintings apps. Also I was making ink drawings In accordion books. One book would evolve to be called Ionian EKG and would reflect my impressions of the dramatic fickled weather and the other would be called Continuum as the island is a steady presence regardless of being plagued with earthquakes (1953) and foreign occupations— the Venetians, English, Italians, Germans—and financial downturns.

While my work continued David was taking gazillion photographs and editing them totally wrapped up in the stimulus surrounding us. There came a time fairly soon though when I solicited him to help me do a series of cyanotypes—or sun prints. I had it in mind to photograph an octopus with the cyanotype process so he and I went down to Argostoli and bought a ten-pound frozen octopus that in solid form did not intimidate me. Excited we also bought a squid and some shrimp as well. We put them in the refrigerator at the Center for the octopus to thaw. I had the octopus in mind from the beginning of our residency acceptance. That form came to my mind in a dream and I saw white tentacle shapes dancing in fields of blue.

In a day and a half Octo (as he became affectionately known) thawed and my affection for him dimmed somewhat as I handled the slimy mass that had eyes and suckers. I kept telling myself how privileged I was to hold such a primordial sentient being in my hands—but my reptilian brain kept urging me to drop the critter and flee. There was no chance of that happening however because I had to put up a brave front for the husband that I had enlisted to help me with this project.

OK—here’s the cyanotype process—we began with the smaller creatures—squid and shrimp and the chemically treated paper. In a semi dark room (made so with newspapers covering the windows and glass door) we placed the objects (yes I’m objectifying the critters) in a composition on the paper placed on a board. We lifted the board and carefully carry our sandwiched package outside and lay it down on the sunny driveway. Note that this required many squats and resultant sore muscles. I watched the paper intensely and when I determine it has turned a gray-blue we hurriedly lifted our passenger up and swiftly carry it inside the darkened space to rinse in water quickly revealing the white image and blue background—then off to drying. Now to rearrange the composition and do the ritual again and again and again. With squid and shrimp and shrimp and squid. Finally we feel the ‘opening act’ served it’s purpose and we’re ready for big time except we’re too tired and need to rest and do Octo the next day.

The next day came and squishy Octo became our leading man. After some shots we were handling Octo like pros placing his tentacle’s this way and that and getting good images. Cyanotypes are magical. It’s an ‘alive’ process because you witness the developing happening before your eyes and the results are not predictable which is sometimes a disaster but always a thrill. Oh, and confession to be made—we prepared and ate the octopus and squid after they were our loyal models. Sad but true and delicious!

With my scrolls completed and the cyanotypes drying David and I turned our focus to preparing our exhibit and talk event which was happening in a week’s time. We decided to call the event, “The Artist’s Mind” and talk about our life, travels, work and our impressions of Kefalonia. We outlined our talk and compiled illustrative slides. David made a slide show of his wonderful photography of Kefalonia and also one of his work in the Antarctic as the Center’s curator, Sophie Kagadis, felt strongly that people on the Island would want to see and hear about our trip there last January. He also made one of our making the cyanotypes as he thought people would be interested and amused in that process and lastly a slide show of the images I created on my iPad. I truly enjoyed being able to quickly sketch with the software and find out all the variables possible.

While we were installing the work with some trusty helpers I found time to do another project. I wanted to try to dye some large sheets of fabric with BLUE “sea and sky”. I did this outside with tubs and drying racks. Although a novice I liked the results enough to use these panels in the exhibit. At another time in my future I would like to use indigo and try this again. I once did a brief indigo dyeing stint with a master in Japan and was impressed by the process, beauty and history. It has stuck with me ever since and will probably come to fruition in the future.

So our “The Artist’s Mind” became a multimedia event of photography, paintings, cyanotypes, dyed painting and slide discussion. We had an adventure setting up all the media—projectors in two areas and a TV screen in another. Luckily we had experienced help converting our US Apple projects to Greek PC—more complex than it should be methinks.

We had a fabulous time doing a radio interview with two wonderful ladies at the local station. We found ourselves laughing and carrying on a bit and extending our interview to all areas of life and art and telling people to come to the event.

“The Artist’s Mind” was a wonderful night and came off beautifully. The attendees were so enthusiastic, interested and welcoming. We had a translator but didn’t need her as everyone that attended had a command of English. The Vice Mayor of the Island attended and opened our talk by saying that we were now Kefalonians.

Before we left we had a couple of days to wonder and visited the North and East of the island and ate some wonderful food, sat on beaches and celebrated David’s birthday. Then we headed to Mykonos just to see the “white town”, windmills and sea. A picture postcard Island. Then on to Athens.

Athens is such a gift, steeped in a long history and civilization and yes, democracy. The energy of the city is still very much present and it was apparent at every turn. Our arrival date coincided with their Independence holiday. It was very festive in the streets and perhaps forgotten for a while were the economic difficulties the Greeks are experiencing that otherwise is very much a point of discussion.

We loved having the Acropolis view from our Plaka hotel balcony. The Acropolis Museum was a breathtaking architecturally and complimented and honored the Acropolis that could be seen from its windows and restaurant terrace. We were so fortunate to be able to view and be next to the Acropolis at every turn. The visit to the Acropolis was astounding but it was the brushing up against it in unexpected ways that made it, for our brief visit, memorable. At the Museum you actually entered walking on top of archeological ruins peering down upon them through glass walkways leading into the Museum. The displays were monumental.

Walking in Athens was easy and there was something to see at every turn like when we came upon the changing of the guards at the tomb of the unknown soldier—tradition and choreography at play. The other thing we found compelling was the jewel-box Museum of Cycladic Art. The objects were so minimal, classical and beautiful and made in 2000 or so BC—very inspiring and humbling to this artist.

Residencies bring me to many places I would not otherwise visit. They provide me with a bit of immersion into a country and it’s people giving me insights and appreciation I would not otherwise have. Not being engaged in my everyday tasks of life gives me an opportunity to focus and dream about my art. All these and more are gifts that I bring home with me to my studio and then the gifts keep on giving. As sorry as I was to leave Greece I’m excited to be back in my world again with new ideas. I feel blessed to have these opportunities. So where shall I apply next?

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GREEN Abundance at Las Cruces Museum of Art

Marietta Leis | November 1, 2013 - 7:00 am

GREEN Abundance, my multimedia exhibition of paintings, videos, photographs, sculpture and poetry, will be a solo exhibition at the Las Cruces Museum of Art (NM) November 23^rd until January 18, 2014. There will be an artist reception December 6 at 5-7pm that I plan to attend.

This work was influenced by my Artist Residency in the verdant North of Thailand. My studio was a veranda with a thatch roof that looked out to vegetation of all colors so my palette was ever-changing. The color linchpin, however, was GREEN—the living, breathing color of life. Around me were rice paddies and ponds and food, food, food. Sights, smells, taste and tactility assaulted my sensory system in ah such a good way. Even now I can arouse my sense memories of that experience without effort and feel the Thai heat, sunshine and GREEN. My media grew in an effort to express all the imagery and ideas flooding me during my stay.

The paradox of this bliss is that the surrounding countries as well as the hillside people of Thailand have a different experience—one of far less generousity in many ways. That painful knowledge lead me to the poems and empty food sculptures to express seed the idea of the inequality that we face on our planet.

This series of work has been embraced by a group of supporters (I call them the Green Team) that rallied and donated to the GREEN Kickstarter campaign—an internet crowd sourcing funding. Their support for shipping the exhibit has made it possible for GREEN to exhibit at several venues and more to come.

I hope this location—The Las Cruces Museum of Art, is one that you will be able to visit.

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Miniatures & More at the Abq Museum

Marietta Leis | October 1, 2013 - 7:00 am

For the past 22 years the Albuquerque Museum of Art and History has produced Miniatures & More, an invitational exhibit and sale of small paintings. This year I have been extended an invitation to exhibit my paintings and I am thrilled to be part of this time-honored tradition of my home town Museum. Three paintings from my oil on wood reductive Pixels series will be on display. This work inspired by skies and seas from my travels will be shown for the first time locally.

The quality of work in Miniatures is superb and represents terrific artists from the area. Many people look forward to attending and this year the exhibit opens with a Collector’s Dinner Saturday evening, October 25th followed by a Gala Saturday, October 26th. The exhibit will run until closing Sunday, December 8.

I hope everyone has a chance to visit the Museum during Miniatures. Unfortunately, I will miss the October activities as I will be in Greece for an Artist Residency but I’ll catch up to the exhibit in November.

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Exhibiting Charcoal Drawings

Marietta Leis | August 29, 2013 - 8:25 am

"Traversing #1", Charcoal/paper, 7x7.25”, framed 14.5x14.5” — “Traversing #1”, Charcoal/paper, 7×7.25”, framed 14.5×14.5”

You’ll be able to see my charcoal drawings at the Leich Lathrop Gallery in downtown Albuquerque beginning September 5^th.

When my husband and I drove around the U.S. in our RV called Harvey, which we did for several years, I always brought my charcoals and paper and set about recording my impressions of our travels. This has always been one of my favorite mediums because as I push and pull and smear and erase the charcoal with my hands it feels like painting.

Below is my “Artist Statement” describing how I think about and execute my drawings. I hope you’re able to see the work in person.

My Drawings

I draw from my direct observation of nature and the phenomenon that surrounds it. I primarily use charcoal with erasure markings. Erasing helps me to find the dialectical tension of fidelity to the image and departure from it. Drawing is very important to me as it helps me to observe and understand my world.

The observations that I record have as much to do with how I feel, the sensations that I experience in the environment where I am drawing, as with the visual information. This self-consciousness of my sensory responses evokes memories of other times and places where I have had similar feelings. The work goes back and forth, past and present. It is the gap in-between that is the final drawing.

PS: I was also delighted to be featured on the Saatchi Online Homepage for New Paintings of the Week 8/20/13. Saatchi Online was started by the renown Saatchi Gallery in London showing terrific international artists. Ballad 4, an oil on canvas paintings and part of my Atmospheres Series was shown as well as a link to my page on their site http://www.saatchionline.com/mleis.

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‘Dark Matter’ Inspiration

Marietta Leis | August 1, 2013 - 7:00 am

I’m intrigued with the ‘dark matter’ in our universe. An astronomer whose lecture I attended stated that more answers, information and “stuff’ lies in the ‘dark matter’ than in what is lit and visible”. With my current black paintings I am trying to peer into that seemingly black void and be enlightened but do not have the extreme night vision required. There is something grand and ironic about the fact that where knowledge and illuminating facts might reside is mysterious and unavailable to us.

My black 24″ reductive oil on wood square paintings, that hover off the wall six inches, align with my Shades series aesthetically but they additionally pay tribute to mystery and the unknown. Do we really want to know everything? That seems like no fun to me. My reflections on ‘dark matter’ have luckily inspired paintings that are elegant, dramatic and a bit noir. There is a lot more to this color than meets the eye in science and in art. Enjoy.

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Exhibiting at NMSU’s Art Gallery

Marietta Leis | July 2, 2013 - 1:15 pm

Selections from the Permanent Collection at The University Art Gallery, NM State University, Las Cruces will include my 5 piece blue painting installation, Breathing Lessons. These pieces are painted on paper adhered to wood frames that recede to the wall. The installation creates wonderful shadow effects that become part of the piece. The University purchased this when it was part of the 2-person exhibit Visceral Whispers featuring the work of Betty Hahn and myself in 2005.

This exhibit will be open July 2 – August 3. An opening reception will be held July 5^th from 5-7pm.

Breathing Lessons is part of my ongoing Blue Series that began in 2001 with my residency at Crater Lake, OR the deepest bluest lake in the US. Being immersed in the beauty of this lake gave me an appreciation for the healing possibilities of the color blue. Blue has many associations for people but calmness, nature and wellness are very prevalent. My excavation of blue lead me to think about other colors and how they influence our lives thus began other series of work focusing on color.

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SHADES Exhibits

Marietta Leis | June 14, 2013 - 10:57 am

Insights 27 (left), an oil on wood painting from my reductive SHADES series will be showing in the wonderful group exhibit, Sea and Sky at the Liz Afif Gallery in Philadelphia from June 6-June 28.

Other work including Lost and Found (right) from the SHADES series is now available at Snapp Price Projects Gallery in ABQ! Additional SHADES work can still be seen at Tinney Contemporary, Nashville and at Gallery Sonja Roesch, Houston. To view more work from this series please click here.

SHADES was inspired by my silent, still and reverent observation of either the changing sea or sky around me. While in artist residencies by Italy’s Tyrrhenian Sea or in Finland’s Arctic Circle I resisted intelligence and was present in the natural world, learning about it up close, right here, right now. This softened the imaginary line between nature and me. The resulting paintings also softened becoming reductive sensory memories capturing my feelings rather than the details.

The sheer wonder of the world around me without the interfering static of everyday noise influenced my work helping me to sense the day’s moods and nuances that would have been missed in a usual day’s ‘attention blink’. Tapping into this undercurrent of knowledge is what my art is about. I use these elements to express my own visceral responses to life and to evoke those of the viewer.

My life has taken a deliberate turn in the last decade—more focused—intrigued by empty space, interested in the air between the notes. Working in my home studio suits my need for the contemplative solitude my paintings require. Paradoxically I am also a traveler with much curiosity about the world. Exposure to unfamiliar places challenges my perceptions, expands my ideas and ultimately informs my life and my work.

Finland’s weather of fog, mist, rain and cloud masses can all occur in a summer’s 24 hour lit day. The northern sky’s light is infused with a translucent clearness that made me feel as though I could step into and through any barrier into the universe itself. Looking from my Finnish studio window I saw the sky’s wondrous shades of lemony yellow and pinks when the sun winked.

Italy’s southern coast in contrast has vibrancy and high drama. The days were pregnant with every blue color value and the nights were black velvet. The sea’s beauty could be both tumultuous and soft as cashmere fascinating me from my studio or walking in the complimentary sands.

I dipped my brush into my soul and painted what cannot be said verbally. I used the glazes in the paintings for the pure translucency of the skies, the gradations for the subtle nuances of color that shifted continuously and the bold contrasts and marks for nature’s spontaneous surprises. The sensuous spirit of my travels returned home with me in my work and in my heart.

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Thin Places*

Marietta Leis | May 15, 2013 - 7:00 am

When my husband and I visited Alaska several years ago the one place I truly wanted to visit was the city of Barrow. It was a heartfelt and non-logical desire. Barrow way way up North at the end of the world called to me with a Siren’s song. I didn’t know what to expect but as we traveled the length and breadth of Alaska. It was my most memorable and inspiring experience.

Flying to Barrow from Fairbanks I could see and sense it’s remoteness from the skies. We landed on a small airstrip and bused into the small village built on tundra and permafrost. The buildings showed their history of hard winters and their stilt construction made them appear tenuous. The landscape was flat with grasses that looked as though a hair iron had pulled it through its prongs until it was straightened smooth. Winds from the sea had bent the grasses down to its roots.

But it was standing staring out into the Arctic Ocean’s horizon and dipping my toes into its freezing waters that fulfilled my primal need–that of traveling to the ‘end’ or maybe more accurately the ‘beginning’.

Seduced by Barrow, I applied and received an artist residency in the town of Kimijarvi, north of Finland’s Arctic Circle and Finland’s northernmost city. At first I was disappointed as we drove to the Residency from the Rovaniemi Airport about 60 minutes south of Kemijarvi. I saw forests to the right and left, in front of us and to the rear. We were enclosed by verticality, busyness and green-ness–not the minimalism I expected. But soon the translucent 24 hour light won me over making me feel as though I could climb right up into the sky passing through the air and clouds to the heavens above. Visiting Norway to the North all the way to the sea gave opportunities at the top of the fiords to see minimal landscapes with land and water meeting at the same ground level seamlessly with nothing to obstruct my views.

Almost immediately after leaving Finland I started longing for a polar experience. I researched the possibilities and honed in on the Antarctic Continent–way way down in a different season plane. I petitioned and won my willing husband over and then 9 months of planning and outfitting ensued. The busyness of planning the expedition stalled any conscious thinking on my part of what the trip would really entail. I just operated on the knowledge that I wanted to go. It wasn’t until just a month or so before we left that the reality of crossing the Drake Passage at Cape Horn occurred to me when I remembered reading about it’s water’s treacherous possibilities.

Working our way down Argentina’s Patagonia made me realize the potential enormity of our trip. Everything in Patagonia seemed large and spectacular. The Perito Moreno Glacier, the mountains, the sunsets, the sheep estancias, the Andes. Then finally we arrived at Ushuaia the southern most city in the Americas (and serendipitously the sister city of Barrow, Alaska) where we were to board our Russian Research ship, Vavilov. The Beagle Channel at Ushuaia leading to the Drake Passage promised and threatened as I stared out into the seas that would soon be mine to conquer. There was no denying we were in for an adventure, I just didn’t know what just yet but I had a longing, a craving to get out there and do ‘it’.

As we boarded the Vavilov and made our way through the Canal seeing Ushuaia fade and the waters open we were told that there was a storm in the Drake and that we should be prepared with whatever medications we would need. We were instructed in the “one hand for the ship” rule of always holding on to something (not doorways) when walking or climbing stairs to prevent falling injuries. A clue as to what to expect, eh?

This was our entree into 2.5 days of turbulent seas, the power of which I had never experienced. My ‘patch’ and meds kept me safely sleeping on and off as the boat was hurled and lifted and slammed. 50-foot waves treated the ship like it was a plaything but the Russian crew’s experience kept us navigating the rough waters with exceptional skills. My husband and I would marvel at the rocking of our bed; now we’re on our heads and now on our feet with a shake and rumble in-between and a slam now and again. The strength of the water was unbelievable. Nature in the raw. It was scary but also incredible as we watched the seas pound our cabin windows over and over with visual patterns that were spellbinding.

Then one morning at 3 am the sun rose in its magnificence of reds, pinks, oranges and yellows hitting the snow covered mounds on the land around us and illuminating paths in the water. It was gorgeous. I mean so gorgeous I wanted to sing one of the great ‘glory to god’ hymns. The light was clear, radiant, and transformational all the more so for the darkness we had just passed through. If you ever believed you need darkness to see the light, this was it–the ying and yang of all time.

Then days of dressing in our many layers and undressing and dressing again. Learning how to do a sailor’s handhold into the Zodiacs to cruise or do landings and hikes on the continent. Each outing unique, each one a blessing for the soul. The Antarctic is a wonderment. I was in the grips of awe all the time. So much so that my intellect luckily left me. Usually so curious and wanting to ‘know’ everything I played hooky from most of the lectures by the naturalists and historians aboard. I just wanted to be there, to be present. I did not want to think. Maybe I was being influenced by the unspoiled wildlife–the wonderful penguins, the seals, the whales, the birds. Maybe I didn’t learn all their names and habits but I sure tuned in to their reptilian brain simplicity. What calming bliss.

So I walked and climbed and sat and watched hardly believing I was in this place that was so otherworldly and yet feeling that this is truly our Earth without all the artifices. It is our real world unfiltered, unedited, unchanged. I had such a sense of being small, insignificant, a voyeur watching a big, powerful world unfurl in front of me. This was not a negative feeling. It was a marvel for me to be a small part of this larger incredible world of ours. I felt on a quest to see the truth, to see our planet, to take it in as it is without all our modifications and without my projections or blinders. My heart was big and full the entire trip. It swelled when I saw icebergs as big as apartment buildings, one doing the favor of turning upside down in front of us–wow. When I saw the humpback whales ‘logging’ or sleeping looking like logs I was tearful in gratitude and humility. Even when I saw a leopard seal kill and eat a penguin I was honored to be a witness to the horror and the naturalness of the violent act. I was in joy!

Eventually returning to the mainland back through the Drake Passage took another 2 and a half daunting days of storms. I returned to my safe bed harbor and rested among the turbulence feeling the glow of being familiar with this, knowing this, and in a crazy way loving it. Sure it was a bit scary to be told by our veteran Captain of 25 years that this was the roughest waters in the Drake of his experience but also feeling so humbled to be a witness to this experience.

The land trip home was dreamlike as my heart remained held by the Antarctic and the transition to my “reality show” was luckily snubbed. It seemed like we were returning home after a long, long trip. I think that we moved into a place so unknown and foreign to us that time was suspended. My primary feeling upon returning was one of being very blessed, privileged and content. I canceled a few pending trips almost feeling like I had finally been where I wanted to go and to travel was not any longer such a driving force for now.

The dramatic images I witnessed in the Antarctic were seen by my artist eyes that reduce things to light, color and form. It’s like squinting when what you’re looking at retains the essence of the viewpoint, not the details. My memory logs how I felt in a “place”. Then there’s the heart factor that imposes itself, impossible to keep at bay.

So back in my home studio I have a mind’s view of black paintings for the granite mountains and white of all shades blanketing them. I also imagine some of my photos and moreover sculptures of the ethereal icebergs unfolding. Ah, maybe that’s where the blues, pinks and yellows will manifest. Then there are the collaborative pieces that my husband, David and I are contemplating. It will all evolve in time as it’s meant to be. Savoring is first. I’m not ready to let go of the savoring just yet. Maybe soon. Maybe the savoring will inform my work. It must don’t you think?

Stay in touch and let’s see what unfolds.

*Thin places are the places on Earth where the concrete world that we perceive and the spiritual world we believe are thought to touch.

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Intimate Visions at Leich Lathrop Gallery

Marietta Leis | May 3, 2013 - 12:49 pm

Intimate Visions will exhibit at Leich Lathrop Gallery May 2 – June 5 with an opening reception on Sunday, May 5 at 3-5pm. The exhibition will feature works on paper by myself, Deborah Gavel, and Joyce Shupe, including pieces from my Chimes, Luminers, and Limnings series. To view the works on paper section of my portfolio click here.

Scroll down to view images of my installation from the show.

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Ode to Curators

Marietta Leis | March 24, 2013 - 6:15 pm

Jeanne Brasile, Director of Seton Hall University’s Walsh Gallery, and I had been in dialogue about my art over a couple of years and how to present my work in an exhibition. The process of watching her assimilate my work and paring down all the facets of my output (paintings, sculptures, work on paper, et al.) to a cohesive concept was observing the mastery of a curator’s skill. As a result she luckily became the curator of my exhibition “Earthly Pleasures” showing at the Walsh Gallery until April 5, 2013 (pictured below).

It is a wonderful thing for me to witness a curator design an exhibit of my work that executes their vision. Just less than a year ago Jeanne commented that the exhibit she envisioned would revolve around my travels and observations of the natural worlds I experienced, using the colors they presented as was nurtured by my Grandmother many years earlier. Brasile familiarized herself with my oeuvre so that it became possible for her to choose the work that supported her idea, writing the names of the pieces on the gallery’s blueprint with the installation designs she envisioned. This she confidently did by email.

And the exhibit was executed exactly as Jeanne conceived it six months before receiving the work in hand. The clarity with which she visualized her intentions and the superb fulfillment of those intentions fill me with admiration, awe and so much respect for Jeanne and for curators. It is a delight for me to walk into the gallery and recognize a “story” told so well with my art and the curator’s understanding of my issues. Thanks Jeanne Brasile!

I think you will gain an understanding of Jeanne’s curatorial process if you read Jeanne’s statement below, accompanied by photographs of the exhibit “Earthly Pleasures” by David Vogel:

Marietta Patricia Leis’ lush, saturated color field paintings function as fenestrations into an unconfined world of natural forms. The oil paintings are, in part, evocative of landscapes, seascapes, plant forms, weather patterns or micro-organisms and can be concomitantly seen as many of these phenomena. Nuances of color and light palpably depict a range of imagery that encapsulates a life of experience, serving as complex memory portraits that tap into emotions and feelings. For Leis, the paintings are meditations on specific places and times in her life.

The earliest of these memories date to the time she spent with her maternal grandmother, Ermelinda Fiore. Ermelinda’s world was one of scents and colors, a lasting impression on Leis’ young mind. Leis recalls accompanying her grandmother to the garden, spending hours listening to her as she described the flowers and their various attributes. Making their way back to the house, they would then arrange the flowers into bouquets, an art form in her grandmother’s home. The kitchen was similarly filled with indulgences of taste, smell and creativity. Cooking was also a form of creative expression for her grandmother and provided another realm of aromas and colors amid a backdrop of floral arrangements from the garden.

Leis’ more recent influences are derived from her extensive travels, one of the most seminal being a trip to Italy in 1979. There she tapped deeper into her Italian heritage and absorbed a new range of colors and influences. After an artist residency in Crater Lake, Oregon, Leis’ painting took on new resonance. She began to travel more widely to such exotic locations as Thailand, Greece, the Antarctic, Finland, Spain and Portugal. Having experienced a variety of locales, each with their own particular light and color conditions, her paintings took on the task of expressing the bounty of nature and its variety of nuances.

The multiplicity of blue shades encompassed in the sky and water became one of her favorite muses. This can be seen most clearly in works like Barrier Rift I & II, Breathless 1-6, and Quietness. Depictions of atmospheric conditions are expressed in Pixels, which indicate a variety of tones and colors as well as the formless structures of fog and light. But Leis’ work always draws upon her early years back in New Jersey with her grandmother. The Seed paintings offer us a variety of green, brown and golden hues culled from her “nonna’s” garden. The sheer variety of colors, light conditions, hues, tones and saturations attributed to Leis’ work reveals an artist that is concerned with looking at, meditating on, luxuriating in the bounty of nature and all its endless permutations. In Earthly Pleasures we enter a world that Leis constructs for us from memory. It is the absence of a very specific, figurative language that leaves us with occasion to assemble memories borne of our own experiences. Leis’ ability to reference her own past and present, while bridging that of her audience makes her painting resonate so profoundly. In every work we sense the artist’s gratitude and awe in the bounty of nature and we, too, can feel it intensely.

– Jeanne Brasile, Curator