When I stumbled upon the work of Amy Crehore, I had that great fun shock you get when you watch somebody doing what they are not supposed to. Or what you suppose others think one might not do, which is often a prescription for deep water. I wrote to Ms. Crehore straight away and asked her if I could post a few of her images on this site and inquired about the price of some of her paintings. That was awhile back. Since, I've been thinking about what I might say. Her bio page offers little help, saying only:
"Her mysterious, dream-like narratives reveal a preference for vintage musical instruments and a love of art history."
Perhaps.
Her blog is a tremendous image repository that seems to mirror many of my own interests.
I like her work. It is crazy and hued with the colors of childhood memories. What memories! But there they are creeping around, archetypal, submerged things full of crazy monkeys and diabolical clowns and lurking cats and peepers, all part of the secret Fairy Tales books we were never allowed to view but suspected nonetheless.
Oh, I'm not qualified to speak for others. I'll have to leave it to you. I still haven't derived the words and phrases I need to handle an essay on her paintings. I'm just glad she's painting them.
Balthus meets Alice in Wonderland?
ReplyDeleteCool stuff. They remind me of Tarot cards or something -- like each has a meaning for us all when we see it.
the melancholy feel appeals to me
ReplyDeleteL, I thought you would like it right away.
ReplyDeleteR, Yes, I like melancholy as well.
It is the simplicity of line and color interacting with those crazy themes for me. It is both a paradox and an oxymoron. And I get pissed off that so much is hidden even in the revealing. I want to be able to turn the picture to see better. I want to go behind the curtain. I want to know what happens next.