Barbara Grad on works in “It’s About Tomorrow”

This painting began with an idea of a cliff and a very tiny figure shape at the edge. The shapes were simple and bold.
I immediately painted out the figure and decided to concentrate on the space of the painting. The texture and light became very important, to create a sense of space a depth.
I was thinking about the solid forms of verses air or movement. Darker elements appeared under and beyond the ledge on the right.
I began to paint the bottom shapes thinking of downward motion, the light catching that shift.
I opened the light blue space near the top to create more drama for the stable V shape in the center.
So the painting became about solid shapes and space rather than a kind of storytelling. It's more about the light and power of nature to withstand the strains below the surface.I titled this painting “Bluff” because it is both deception of space and an allusion of a cliff.

One of my aspirations was to visit Morocco and especially camp out in the Sahara Desert. I had visions of endless golden sun and sand as I was about to begin my 2-day journey from Marrakech.
We woke early to a misty light rain which continued as a downpour throughout the day. How could this be? It doesn't rain in the Sahara, maybe once a year? Surely it would stop. 
On the second day, it continued to rain. We stopped for lunch and were greeted as heroes, we brought the rain! And the Atlas mountains were emerald green and the sky a misty grey.
It was amazing however completely unexpected. The following day we woke to the sun, a short drive to the edge of sand as we changed to a small jeep and began across the golden sand. Then onto camels for another hour to our camp.
The sand had settled down from the rain and we didn’t need to wear our scarfs ( which we learned to tie the day before). So even though there was a nice breeze no sand was kicked up to obstruct the view, which was endless.
The change from the rebirth of growth to the golden sands was a passage I will never forget. A kind of spiritual reminder of life cycles and the power and beauty of nature. The sky was painted a few times to finally allow for the soul of the sky to emerge through the paint.

Specials thanks to my friend Lisa Reindorf for giving me her father's hand-ground tubes of oil paint. He was a painter in Mexico and I used his burnt umber and viridian along with my other great oil paints.

This piece began with a clear idea of a landscape being shoved out of place. I began with a few very large areas of color and I wasn’t quite certain how to proceed. The view was straight forward with only a premeditated slight shove in the center of the layers.
There was no hint of mystery or engagement.
I wanted an unrecognized physical force to block or interrupt this space. 
I added big sloppy brushstrokes near the bottom, an unknown reference to something in nature that I thought would stop the viewer from immediately knowing this landscape.
Sometimes nature has the most unexpected characteristics and I wanted to nurture that idea. The unpredictable occurrence can be most interesting to me.
The space was painted over time, and the edges strengthened the boundary of the image by holding it inside the painting, even though it was being shoved. 
I was very happy with this piece as it is hard to understand immediately, it is both beautiful and ugly, just like nature itself.

A few years ago I painted “Blue Wave” (2017). I liked the mix of very flat, almost comic-book top and the deeper space on the bottom. I was thinking about ocean storms and how violent they have become. 
I returned to the idea, a little larger with more of the energy and power of nature. I began with some flat shapes of yellow on top, and then bold graphic symbols. I put two panels together as I wanted the space of an ocean. I kept a similar palette and repainted the bottom several times. It was a fresh deliberate piece, looking and thinking a long time before putting down paint. 
I'm pleased with the broken yet cohesive space. I try to paint thin so I can wipe away what I don’t think works and try again. 
It's quite possible that I will go back to the top piece and rework it, I’ll leave that question for another day.

Sometimes the work comes from a combination of memory and drawing. 
Through the years, I have been invited to Cheeha Combahee Plantation, which is located in South Carolina at the Chehaw and Combahee Rivers. It is a lovely place with endless views of the rivers and where they meet. It is the most beautiful and serene landscape with many beautiful birds and wildlife. And there are lots of alligators on the banks and in the rivers. The rivers are quite wide in certain areas and I have always wondered what it would be like if the rivers flooded the area and you had to swim home. Probably not a good idea.
In these times of climate changing the environmental landscape, I wondered how this would affect these kinds of areas. The idea of only being able to swim to the other shore seemed at best dangerous. But the rivers appear so beautiful and calm, especially on lovely days.
Often my titles lead the viewer to think about the image in another way. I think “Swim Home” gives this work another way to view it.
The small drawing was done much before the larger work. The shapes didn’t change much but it was difficult to get an awareness of the boundary of the painting itself. 
I wanted the work to be as much about the idea of painting as well as an allusion of space. So the top edges create a boundary of color to that space. 
Each work calls for different ways to resolve the idea. It is always a mystery how that comes about. 
It's not often that painting follows a drawing so closely, but there are no rules.

This painting began with the idea of the layers of earth, water, and sky. I wanted the water to overwhelm the land and take over the painting.
I changed the color of the top as a change in time. But as in most literal ideas, they tend to go flat as painted illusions. It had no painted space as everything happened at once.
Time exposes change and I wanted to break up the space to create a sense of shift. The shapes had to move from stable to displaced and the painting in its broken illusion began to come together as an idea.
It was a tough one to paint, to take those bold steps forward. But the further I ventured out of the initial version the more exciting it became. I feel this painting speaks about the changing earth and our relationship to it.
It embodies both the power and beauty of that change.

We have many very large mature trees around our house so a horticultural tree specialist came to check on their health. One of my favorite trees outside my kitchen window seemed to be perfectly healthy. However, it was found to be rotten inside and only a matter of time to come down. The crew came and worked all day to take down what seemed to be a perfectly healthy specimen.  But at the end of the day, the base of the tree exposed a  black rotten hole at its center.
I wondered how such a beautiful, mature tree could be so filled with disease and decided to paint a memory of it. I began to paint a tree shape with a black center, but as I painted, the center disappeared and was covered with lines and shapes of light and energy. The black was dispersed throughout the shape and melded back into a form. The ground became more solid and the top became a sky moving from light too dark to light again. There is a large field from the tree and far beyond you can see the valley and then a mountain.
It is a very literal image and perhaps with more time and distance, I will paint a more abstract version.
The look of something can be deceiving, but knowledge is less so.
I see nature changing, and climate defining those changes.

This painting evolved over a long period of time. I would put it away and then change the shapes and space. 
The initial intension was a landscape collapsing in on itself. But it seemed broken apart not holding together as a painted space.
So I started to draw with white chalk, alternative shapes to clarify the idea. I painted many versions until I gave up. I decided to paint the tornado that this had become.
A storm that would change a landscape in a moment. The small island of land on the top left is either before the storm or perhaps has been left untouched.
Life is never quite predictable and neither is my approach to painting. So it is a process of change about the change itself.
I hope that makes sense to you. 

All words by Barbara Grad (2020)