3 ft. x 3 ft. (one of my preferred sizes for oil abstracts), oil on linen.
As many of you know, I am incredibly moved by all Rothko's later work. I have been experimenting with approaches to try to, in some way, feel what he may have felt doing these sort of paintings, and imitating what may have been some of his techniques (I don't know, and am not sure that anyone does for certain). At the same time, I try to always paint as non-toxic as possible, which for me means, in part, eschewing solvents (I think I read somewhere that he used a lot to achieve his effects). I use none except for a little turpenoid for the "staining the canvas" first step--which I do outside on a nice day, so as not to have the fumes in the studio--and a little for cleaning brushes. (And anyway, I have tried some solvents and mediums and they always seem to backfire on me, so I gave them up. But, never say never--who knows what I will or won't be using in the future.)
I continue to feel completely captivated by color abstractions, and I imagine I always will. Oddly, apparently Rothko said that all these types of paintings that he did (the ones he's most famous for, that look like this) had nothing to do with color, only with emotion. For me it's both--certainly evoking a particular emotion or emotions, but definitely about color for its own sake.
Isn't it strange when you feel such a powerful attraction to someone's work (for me, Rothko and Diebenkorn, for example) that you feel you could die happy if you could somehow crawl right into one of the paintings and become it...and you show a book of that artist's work to a friend, and they give it a rather bored glance and give you a weird look, like, Nah, not my cup of tea, and why does this even interest you?
It continually amazes me, why as individuals we are so drawn to some work and not at all to others. I suppose it's a good thing, though, or else there would probably be only one or two artists in the world.
Comfy furry Golden vegetable. (Mojito.)
More art on my website: jalapfaff.com