Inspiration (Pestilence & Other Woes)

Windrows, 2011. Oil on canvas, 12x24"

As an artist I am often asked what inspires me. While I certainly take inspiration from beauty and wonder in the world around me, I am also inspired by trials and tragedies. Indeed, I doubt the creative impulse would be so powerful if it did not help me face the sorrows of our world. My artistic practice -and the Arts at large- support our engagement with both the light and shadow of life.

Four Horsemen, 2020. Graphite on paper, 5x7"

As a child I was taught about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, found in the Bible's Book of Revelation. I grew up anticipating the end of the world. 

These biblical characters came back to my consciousness when the third US school shooting in one week took place at West Nickel Mines Amish School in October 2006. This heartbreak upon tragedy upon horror made me feel like the world was coming to an end. In that incident eleven girls were shot, four dying instantly. I desperately sought some creative response to this violence. But how to reference such madness and brutality without depicting it? Ultimately, I imagined those slain girls mounted on the apocalyptic horses, riding off in peace. By the time I began the painting, a fifth girl had died, but I held to my vision, adding a fifth rider. At Dawn was one of the first art works I made to honor children killed by gun violence. (I am sorry to say it was not the last.)

At Dawn, 2006. Oil on canvas, c.20x30"

 This painting represented a significant step in how I might artistically address human tragedies, and involved a new conception of the Four Horsemen. They are known by their colors: the Black Horseman of Famine, the Pale Horseman of Death, the Red Horseman of War, the White Horseman of Plague. Rather than seeing these as harbingers of our doom, I view them as symbols of the challenges we must face in order to survive, individually and collectively.

Four Horses, 2010. Oil on canvas panels, each: 5x7"

The next series of painting on this theme employed the horses as distant figures, signaling the challenge faced by human characters. While hunger is certainly a condition of famine, the black horse might suggest other sorts of lack or scarcity.

Ravenous, 2010. Oil on canvas, 16x20"

The wayfarers in The Foggy Vale may have lost a loved one to death, but they appear displaced, in transition. Perhaps what they have lost is home and community?

The Foggy Vale, 2010. Oil on canvas, 16x20"

Displacement seems a likely possibility as these women make their departure below the towering red horse of war or conflict.

A Departure, 2010. Oil on canvas, 16x20"

In A Consultation, the white horse of pestilence -or illness and injury- appears between the medical visitors and the women digging echinacea roots.

A Consultation, 2010. Oil on canvas, 16x20"

Most often it is the black horse of famine or scarcity I have conjured up in compositions where people strive for their sustenance.

Late Harvest, 2011. Oil on art board, 10x8"

Furrow, 2011. Oil on canvas, 24x12"

Three Sisters, 2012. Oil on canvases, 16x12, 16x20, 16x12"

By 2018, these four horses were well established in my own symbology. I decided to foreground them in another series of paintings, The Four Horses Quartet. Here each horse is also associated with a season. Winter's dormancy holds the presence of death. The diminishing light and warmth of Autumn hints at lack, or resources running low. The heat of Summer provides conditions for tempers to flare. Spring's "in-betweeness" hints at the vulnerability we experience between Winter's vagaries and the revival of growth to follow.

Four Horses Quartet, 2018. Graphite & oil on wood panels, each: 24x36"

Given our immediate circumstances (Covid-19 Pandemic) the white horse representing our physical vulnerabilities- to illness, to injury, to wide-spread contagion, seems more salient than ever. In this historical moment we must also anticipate death, scarcity and conflict. Sadly, we are already beset with these attendant troubles. In this series I've depicted people stepping in and stepping up to address suffering or an impending challenge.

Flare Up, 2018. Graphite & oil on wood panel, 24x36"

Attempting to settle disputes without violence is a way to avert further injury and ongoing animosity.

Gleaners, 2018. Graphite & oil on wood panel, 24x36"

Here gleaners answer the threat of scarcity with thrift. Young and old, male and female, work together in hopes of gathering in all sustenance from the crop of potatoes.

Blue Gloaming, 2018. Graphite & oil on wood panel, 24x36"

Meeting the grief of loss with consolation and companionship, despite the penetrating chill provides the human warmth in Winter.

House Call, 2018. Graphite & oil on wood panel, 24x36"

In House Call I portrayed a doctor coming out to provide care in a rural environment. I referenced the special challenges of health care in a rural place. The home health visitor provides an essential service to people in remote settings, and is essential throughout our broad society.

We must contend with conflict, with scarcity, with loss and illness. These are inevitabilities in human life. But we are not doomed if we act with compassion, courage and creativity to face these challenges.