"LUDWIG"

Private Collection

Series: MUSIC

Acrylic

Claudia Lowery

ARTPORT 2012

"ODD MAN OUT" 2- 15x36inch canvases submitted for the ARTPORT exhibition in Shreveport, Louisiana opening in February 2012 and on display for 5 years.

EVENTS AND EXHIBITIONS

2012

“PAIRED” Exhibition – ARTPORT – Shreveport, Louisiana, February

2011

THIS PRESENT PATH SOLO EXHIBITION – Marshall Visual Art Center, Marshall, Texas, November-December

Michelson Museum of Art – Christmas Story Trees – December

ArtWalk – Leilawoods Flowers – Longview, Texas – December

2010

Michelson Museum of Art – Christmas Artist Trading Cards – December

SLIPPED, SPRIGGED, & LOW-FIRED – Workshop by Lisa Orr, July

GREAT EAST TEXAS ART EXHIBITION – Marshall Visual Art Center – May

EMPTY BOWLS – Weisman Center – February

2009

SMALL TOWN RAKU -  Workshop by Steven Branfman, Marshall, Texas, October

EMPTY BOWLS – Weisman Center, Marshall, Texas, February

2008

EMPTY BOWLS – Marshall Visual Art Center, Marshall, Texas, February

2007

GREAT EAST TEXAS ART EXHIBITION – Marshall Visual Art Center, Marshall, Texas May

ART TEACHER FOR MARSHALL I.S.D.- August 2007-June 2012

USEFUL CONVERSATIONS EXHIBITION OF ERIN LAMBERS (Student’s Portion) – Marshall Visual Art Center, Marshall, Texas, September

ARTIST'S STATEMENT

THIS PRESENT PATH ~ ARTIST’S STATEMENT

My journey in art began as a preschooler in the early 1950s when my Aunt Ruth, a music professor, gave me an I.Q. and aptitude test that revealed I could do well in the arts. This delighted my parents since that seemed to be the bent on both sides of the family. My mother was a recognized artist in the Dallas area winning many shows and consistently selling as well as teaching art from her home studio for decades. A strong memory I have of my mother is one of her sitting at a large easel, her back to the door, painting. After school I’d plop down on the couch and have a snack, while she asked about my day without ever missing a brushstroke. Absorbed in her work she’d often lose track of time and have to scurry to have dinner ready when Dad came home. My mother, Barbara (Casey) Barlow Carpenter, was the artist who taught me to see the world with an artist’s eye. My journey can’t be complete without giving her honor due.

The next part of my journey was sporadic, artistically speaking, with art classes through high school and college and an occasional painting or collage. Distracted by other things the production of art was little or none. However, I loved writing and began producing articles for local newspapers and magazines, again, an aptitude for the arts. Using my degree in education I taught elementary school for ten years and child-level art projects were the extent of my dabbling. After my children were grown I moved to East Texas and volunteered at the Michelson Museum of Art where I began to meet area artists and art enthusiasts. Through a series of fortuitous events that can only be described as kismet I began taking a pottery class, started teaching 5/6 grade art, renewed my interest in photography and also took up painting again. That brings me to this present path.

Some would say viewers of art should stand back taking in the whole picture, the broad view. However, much of my art is intended to draw you close. I produce art on a variety of levels; stand back and take it in, come up close and search, and it is all to find meaning, whether as I intended or “whatever you perceive it to be”. Art should be personal. I bring my life experience, opinion, attitude, and vision to the table and when you look, you should add your own.  Together we create an artistic experience…we share.

Creatively speaking I have bared much of my soul, but not all. It is not easy to expose the rawest version of oneself. I’m still shaking off the shackles of societal restraint when creating. At some point I always ask myself, “Should this be art?” and of course, the answer is YES. Art is expression and if a seed is planted and generates creatively then it becomes art. Life and art are often one and the same. I agree that it is not always pretty or decorative…thank goodness! Sometimes life is dirty, ugly, and unpleasant…even controversial. However, we don’t have to love everything we see. We should, though, love the fact that an artist was willing to put it all on the line in order to create because when fear keeps creativity at bay art will suffer.

My life began with one artist sharing art with me. From the masters to folk artists to the local hobbyist, they have given and I have received something in the form of what we simply call “art”. I pray my journey will continue for many years and that how I live is a spiritual and visual expression of a life artfully lived.

Claudia Lowery

November 2011

EXHIBITION ART

"IT'S ALL OVER NOW, BABY BLUE"

Acrylic

"YOUR CONSOLATION BROUGHT JOY" 

Acrylic

 

Hanging my first exhibition at the Marshall Visual Art Center in Marshall, TX.

Photo by Dennis O'Bryant.

 

"HOMESTEAD"

Digital photo.

"PILGIMAGE"

Acrylic

"SHE TURNED TO LOOK"

Acrylic

Gallery opening reception

November 3, 2011

NEW BLOG ADDRESS

If you were following this blog before at claudiawrites.blogspot.com it has been changed to http://gingkoleafstudio.blogspot.com and it is the same blog. I've been away for some time, but plan to begin updates. Thanks...Claudia

EARTHBOUND

For a moment, transported…
Public radio’s Alpine-esque waltz
danced around my tiny car…
a soul-thrill brief and beautiful,
the pastoral legato shifting
to a minor key and back again—
quickening and joyfully sailing
down the lane, and yes—
for a moment
I wanted to close my eyes,
but earthbound,
I drove.






Claudia Lowery
July 14, 2010

NEW MEXICO ART RETREAT

My friend and artist Tammy Pruitt and I spent almost a week in Northern New Mexico to gain inspiration and create art. We were not disappointed. Everywhere we turned creation abounded and art surrounded. We stayed in a log cabin at 9,000 ft. above sea level near Red River, New Mexico. Some days we stayed holed up in the cabin and other days we ventured into area towns like Arroyo Seco, Taos, Chimayo, and Santa Fe. We concluded our journey by driving south to Hondo, between Ruidoso and Roswell, to visit another artist named Alice Warder Seeley. Between the two of us we took thousands of photos and rejoiced at the antics of the hummingbirds that quickly accepted our presence. The trip was everything I'd hoped for and more. Now...I must get to the art-making, now that we've returned. Below are four new poems written in response to the experience.

RETREAT

Minutes of talking
Minutes of silence
Minutes of watching
Minutes of waiting…
It’s a relaxed state of mind
that creates a true vacation-
the soul escape all crave,
but few brave.

Atop the mountain retreat
with an amiable friend
the ebb and flow perfected quickly
as kindred spirits seek
and savor the soul food,
God manna,
sent to feed, refresh, and restore.

ASCENTS

It is the quietest of ascents

of light and breeze,

breath and heartbeat

that awakens the soul this day.

From darkness to flame,

to glow, then green—

a whir, a chirp,

a quickened step

as coffee gurgles

and day begins.

From picture windows

quiet perspectives,

the watchful “eyes” of aspen bark,

their leaves shimmering

in flirtatious beckoning.—

A day begun in silent splendor

opens full

to hold me, completely.

 

HEALING AT CHIMAYO

They say the dirt is holy at Chimayo,

the dirt where many feet have trod

to reach and touch God.

But rushing streams that surround and hurry past

have called me to stop and listen—

This healing comes from crystal waters

flowing rapid o’er ancient rock and pebble.

The Voice says, “Stop and listen…

you are cleansed.”

And peace flows in

where pain flows out—

My healing came at Chimayo.

 

MOUNTAINS OF RED RIVER

I thought I saw the mountains of Red River

when waking from a nap,

their image burned strong in my brain—

the grand slope of verdant grey,

a silhouette against my cabin’s morning glass.

Descending to another place,

a land familiar and certainly welcome,

but for a moment

I thought I saw the mountain and confused,

I looked, then realized

they were a thousand miles away

as wistful watching dissolved to home.

Claudia Lowery

June 2010

NEW POEMS

A MOTHER’S HOPE

She would not move over,

that hopeful mom.

She waited and watched

for a son to come,

but he didn’t.
I could feel her pain
oozing disappointment—
a wound reopened.
Year after year
on Mother’s Day
alone on the pew she sat,
eyes fixed on the pulpit,
an empty seat to her left
as minutes passed
and no one filled the void.

I know the feeling…

she never heard the preacher
because her ears were strained
to the swinging doors behind her.
Then came the arrival of
the last song, the last prayer,
another Mother’s Day alone—
come and gone
and another year
to brace for the next.

Claudia Lowery
May 2010

This occurred at my mother’s church as I squeezed into the row to sit with my mother, the woman next to us wouldn’t budge. At first I resented her stalwart, unmoving position that took up all the space, but as the service concluded I realized and remembered my own experiences…and she was about 80 years old. My heart went out to her…how selfish of me!



BIG MAN WALKING IN SNOW


He is large and lumbers silently
through seldom seen snow—
a gentle crunch surrounds
his big boots.
Eerie blueness fills the sky
reflected in crystalline powder,
he labor to breathes the icy blast,
his lungs, old too soon—
the cigarettes aging prematurely.
But who could resist the clean air?
Who could stay in when
one day is given
to walk tall and large through
the experience that’s rare.
He strives, it’s hard,
but his cheeks are red
and he takes it in—
the cold
the gift
the snow.



Claudia Lowery
May 16, 2010