GLIMMER
FEBRUARY 22 - MARCH 17, 2024
Opening on February 22, 2024
ARTISTS
Hanna Berta
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“The word glimmer provokes imagery of shifting light, of dancing contrast, movement and stillness overlapping space. It is light caught between object and the infinite beyond, full of hope and possibility. It’s the convergence of a sparkle and a darkle.
The word darkle was acquired into my vocabulary around the time that I was invited to show in Glimmer, and I became curious about its applications. Darkle is defined as “to become clouded or gloomy” “to grow dark” or “to become concealed in the dark,” according to the holy Merriam Webster. In contrast, sparkle is “to throw out sparks” “to give off or reflect bright moving points of light” or “to perform brilliantly.”
While they are not exact antonyms sparkle & darkle do rhyme exquisitely. They seem to coincide in the same refraction of space, and produce a glimmering effect when combined.
My work captures the moment of a glimmer, each plant silhouette a dancing contrast of form and shadow in space, a moment suspended in air. The plants that I work with have caught my eye during my daily interactions with the natural world, or have been sought after when the light and the air feel just right. They have called out to me by shape, by color, by pattern, by shifting shadow as they sparkle and darkle out my window or on a walk. Though my work is meditative and focused it also reminds me to stop and smell the roses, to count the small blessings that exist all around us in minute & monumental scales, to seek out the glimmers in hope and play.”
Tara Dixon
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These moments are why I create art.
For me, it’s all about capturing or translating these juxtapositions.
I am grateful that my work was included in this show entitled “Glimmer” as it’s a foundation of my creative process and overall goal as an artist. These glimmers instill hope. Without the rainwater on the red wheelbarrow next to the white chickens life would be very dull.
Ingrid Ellison
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Winter brings quiet months to work without interruptions and the stark landscape is an invitation to slow down and observe. I can mix the deepest blues and the brightest whites to describe a January day, and brush the grey scent of woodsmoke that rises in foggy curls at the edge of town. I can trace the bird song outside, the scribbled call of the housefinch winding its way in a tangle, or the jagged calls of the crows squabbling in the back garden. Even in the shortest of days, lines and colors fall all around us. Making a painting is keeping a record of those moments- making note of a glimmer, a flash at the corner of your eye, and a promise to tell a story of the life happening all around us.
Caroline Sulzer
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I paint from everything I have and that has me; everything I love, and live with – animals, trees, the sea, for example. Once I begin a painting, it acquires its own voice and I try to listen. As color interacts with and becomes form – observed, simplified, transformed – I do my best to follow along. A glimmer – of light, color, shape – that calls my attention is all I need to begin (again).
