Works from
An Invitation to Mercy
curated by Alison Alstrom
with SF painters Alison Alstrom, Deirdre White and Rommel Romo
November, 2024 at Bane Gallery
65 Capp Street
San Francisco, CA 94103
An Invitation to Mercy
36x36
0il on Panel
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This painting began as a fairly traditional still life, a study of a broken piece of taxidermy placed in a room on a table alongside other objects. As it evolved, it became clear that the important part of the painting was the tender opening at the joint of the bird's wing, so I took everything else away to focus on that detail. It reads to me as a vulnerability intentionally shown. That's where the title of this painting came from, which is also the title of the series it initiated (which is ongoing) and also the name of this show.
All You Had Wasn't Enough
36x36
Oil on Panel
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This painting again uses the broken taxidermy to explore experiences of feeling and vulnerability, in this case, a moment of failure/collapse in spite of profound effort.
Self with Broken Pheasant Taxidermy
33x39
Oil on Panel
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This painting is a look back at a painting I made in 1999 called, "Little Bird, Little Bird", and also a continuation of the broken taxidermy series called, "Invitation to Mercy"
Crow Remains #1
18x24
Oil on Panel
SOLD
This painting and the two that follow are my first forays into an examination of our collective culpability in anonymous suffering. These begin a series called, "Collateral Damage" , which I intend to lead me to a larger work with the same title.
Crow Skull
12x12
Oil on panel
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Part of the series for "Collateral Damage"
Crow Remains #2
22x27
Oil on Panel
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Part of the series for "Collateral Damage"
Crow Remains #2
22x27
Oil on Panel
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Part of the series for "Collateral Damage"
Show Statement
In selected paintings from an ongoing series, a broken pheasant taxidermy acts as stand-in protagonist in an exploration of vulnerability. Also included here are studies for a work-in-progress in which the remains of a crow found on the side of the road serves in an investigation of culpability in anonymous suffering.
I first started painting dead birds a long time ago when my cat brought a dead robin into my apartment. I didn’t wonder about it at the time, but made study after study, reveling in its complicated beauty. When someone challenged my use of the bird, asked if it was mere exploitation, I began to insert myself, actual or implied, into the paintings as a way to better understand my affinity. One thing I learned is that if I look closely enough, there is beauty in form itself, or maybe the beauty is in the attention paid. I’m still asking those questions. These paintings look back to that earlier work.
