Tiny Fist, Kate Maracle, Oil on Canvas
I believe art is the presentation of thought, emotion and beauty or lack thereof in any medium that pleases the creator. My art pleases me, or not. It arrives when it choses. My heart is spayed out whether I intend it, my past dissected, my confusion unmasked and my intent obscured by the vomiting of subconscious flotsam and jetsom. I am just living through each day, and when I paint, the strokes on canvas unmask the subtext of those days. We are born alone, we die alone, but for now we are in it together. That’s what gets me going, those tendrils which connect me to others, linking me to the great chain of humanity and knowing that I am not alone, as I once believed. When I paint all the “other” comes out, the past feelings of impotency, the secrets, the unheard voice, the lack of emotion and deadness, the void of color. But then life/art intercedes and snippets of the next phase appear. The crack in the cage, the light that peeks in, hopeful and yet not daring to look, then more light and yet more secrets. Searching for others like myself. Seeking and feeling and then trying not to feel, compartmentalizing and then the work, more work. The painting spewing out the past with bits of the present clinging to it and changing and obscuring, creating a mélange of time and self all blurred together. My own paintings inform me and scare me, define me and enable me all at once. They show me the past and help lead me to what’s next.
I choose to avoid provocative images that have a knee jerk connotation. Instead I choose the female body. It’s familiar, we all know it on some level- be it as a woman, lover, child, mother, observer. As Americans we are fortunate to live in a world where women are seen, at least on the exterior. The image of the body is not foreign, or shocking. It is basic. The emotion, the image, the paint, is an extension of my intellect- and my guts. Me. I pour it out, I struggle to put what is inside on the outside. I use the work to clarify, to focus for myself, and perhaps for the viewer. And yet I struggle against that openness. I try to hide, to submerge, but when I paint and paint well, it emerges. I think that is what takes the work to the next level, beyond the concept, beyond the image. It goes into another place, an indefinable place where life and art merge together and something else happens. Somehow these things come into alignment and the thing lives all by itself, without me.
Kate Maracle is the consumate Tribeca artist, having lived and worked in that neighborhood for a number of years.
Kate Maracle is a woman painting women. For her show Feed The White Wolf, Maracle explores themes of taking ownership of the feminine, a word intrinsically assocciated with weakness. This misconception is shattered by the emotive, instinctual works by Maracle. Experiencing the expression in Maracle’s work is to share in the gift of womanhood and to bring out of ourselves an intense self reflection.
Feed The White Wolf, is the first solo show by a female artist at Townley Gallery, runs from March 1st-14th with an artist family and friends reception on Wednesday 4th and the Tribeca Artwalk and gallery reception on Thursday 5th.
Maracle is largely self taught and considers herself an intiutitve painter. She arrived in Manhattan from a small town and never looked back, thriving in the city she has always considered her true home.
Her resume includes four theatrical plays and designing a line of clothing for Henri Bendel. Maracle has been invited to exhibit her art work in a variety of group exhibitions. Her previous solo exhibition was at Tribeca Fine Arts and her work is held in numerous private collections and has been displayed by academic institutions such as the NY Academy of Art.