We take things in at a glance, find the pattern, label it, and move on. Oh, that’s a meadow. Oh, that’s a cow. Oh, that’s my love.
But what happens when we really look? When we get up close, so close the pattern disappears?
Everything changes. Suddenly, the face of the person closest to us is a a blot of colors and textures. The meadow is a blur of dots and hues. The cow is just fur and dust and a fly or two.
I think labels make things easy. And they’re necessary. If we didn’t make them, the amount of information we take in every day would overwhelm us.
But sometimes we have to get close. Get uncomfortable. Sit in the not knowing.
In these moments, everything (including ourselves) is new. All the information is right in front of us, but its meaning is elusive. Then, vulnerable and open, we find what’s true.
In this painting, I invite the viewer to recognize the familiar from a distance. Then, I invite her to step forward, get close, and see everything that gets missed when the label erodes.
