“Urban Warfare (world on fire)” pastel on pastelmat, 2024, 7″ x 9.5″
This piece is inspired by recent world events, global warfare, and the unsettling sensation that the world is on fire, which has begun to seep into my dreams. It’s not a coincidence that it is similar to “The Nightmare City”; it is a place I see often in my dreams. In my PTSD-fueled nightmares, I find myself on this street, looking up the road toward…what, exactly? The distance? What is beyond, I never quite find out, however long I walk – or run. Sometimes it helps to paint these images, sometimes it doesn’t.
I’m enjoying exploring this theme of campfires – almost as much as I enjoy sitting by the fireside on a chilly evening in the darkness. This is one of those themes I’ll likely continue to play with until I get that feeling that I’ve “gotten it right” or said all I have to say about it, somehow.
I took a few days of dowtime on the Oregon coast to paint and reflect. Time well-spent, but I was missing a certain specific experience that I often indulge when I go camping in milder weather (this trip was a hotel stay, with a lovely view of Siletz Bay) – hours sitting by a campfire, just staring into the embers and listening to the flames crackle. I had it on my mind, and it proved to be sufficiently inspiring to try to capture that yearned-for moment in pastel.
“Winter Sunrise” 7″ x 9″, pastel on Pastelmat, 2024
I sat down to paint, feeling the lingering fatigue of a busy week, and a little low, generally. My heart felt heavy with the weight of unexpressed concerns, mostly fairly abstract and unresolvable. This painting is inspired both by my heavy heart, and also by the awareness that a new day will dawn. I could have titled it “This Too Will Pass” and conveyed similar sentiment.
This piece is painted entirely with Blue Earth pastels, and on Clairefontaine Pastelmat, taking advantage of a new tabletop easel. It’s been awhile since I worked from an easel, and in pastel there are some definite advantages, one being that loose pastel dust falls away from the work immediately, reducing the risk of smudging it into the work in spots where it doesn’t belong.
Some folks – maybe a lot of people – are hurting right now. Feeling angry. Feeling devalued. Feeling that their voice doesn’t matter. Feeling powerless. Hard times are… hard. Hard times make great art. Always have.
…The world feels like it’s on fire, and there is war and destruction everywhere…
When I came home from Desert Storm, my painting style had changed (rather a lot), and the things on my mind began to percolate up through my art. I painted the war. I painted the chaos. I painted the things I didn’t have words for. I’ve used art to give voice to the things I don’t have words for “all along” – at least for the whole time I’ve been an artist.
“Kuwaiti Oil Fires” 20″ x 48″ oil on stretched silk, 1991
Shortly after I returned from the war, I gave up oil painting entirely, in favor of acrylic and pursued an abiding fascination with abstraction, and the use of nontraditional pigments and mixed-media elements in my work.
… And events just kept delivering hard times and trauma to reflect in art…
“9-11″ 18″ x 24” acrylic on canvas, 2001
Hard times come and go. Trauma is inflicted and endured, and trauma heals. The art remains.
I guess I’m just saying inspiration comes in many forms. Sometimes a beautiful sunrise on a favorite trailhead is enough. Sometimes events and circumstances provide inspiration of a different sort. I don’t know what to expect of my work from here, I only know I’ll keep feeling – and painting.
“Drone Strikes” 5″ x 7″ pastel on pastelbord, 2024
“Sunrise at the Trailhead II” 5″ x 7″, pastel on Pastelbord, 2024
I take a lot of early morning hikes. I see a lot of sunrises. No suprise then that I also paint a lot of sunrises. This view is a favorite one, from “my” parking place at a favorite trail. I see the sun rise from this vantage point often. This colorful sunrise, a view seen in September (as I recall) was quite a splendid one, and I did my humble best to capture it, although there is no universe in which art could accurately convey the beauty of the colors I saw that morning. I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep wondering at those beautiful sunrises.
“Fall Chrysanthemums” 5″ x 7″, pastel on Pastelbord, 2024
A pot of autumn chrysanthemums on a table inspired this piece. I enjoy using the bright hues of yellow, orange, and red pastels. There’s something fun and freeing about painting flowers, and an innocence and simplicity the riot of bright colors. Flowers seem somehow undemanding and joyful, and of all the pieces I’ve recently painted, my eyes keep coming back to this one.
“September Morning” 5″ x 7″, pastel on Pastelbord, 2024
The hikes are different as the seasons change. The autumn foliage takes on hues of gold, rusty reds, and hints of orange. The skies are grayer and the chilly breeze directs the migrating birds to warmer climates.
“Autumn Breeze” 5″ x 7″, pastel on Pastelbord, 2024
Autumn has long been my favorite season. Maybe it’s the colors, or the leaves falling? It could be the crisp air and chilly breezes. This piece recalls an autumn walk on a favorite trail, trees turning, leaves on the breeze, and migrating birds making their journeys to far off places.
The Art of M. Elisabeth Howell 