Paintings: The Heart of CZH

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

These new works require a lot of time and space to breathe. The composition is simple and the work itself could be done in a day, but it’s the process that makes these paintings full.  The base fabric for a lot of these works is hand-woven cotton made by artisans in Oaxaca. I lay out the fabric on my studio floor, paint, drip and pour all over the surface. The physicality of this process centers me in my body. After the fabric has lived a bit in this new state, I rip in into shapes – reminding myself (and the fabric) that nothing is permanent, nothing is static and for that reason, I never plot out anything before I start. The fragmented pieces sit on the floor of my studio, breathe again, and then on a day when I feel particularly energized I start the process of piecing them together. For this body of work, I have been particularly inspired by the women of Gee’s Bend.  In their world of creations, there is no such thing as perfect, they let the fabrics guide them and it’s some of the most beautiful and earnest work I’ve ever seen. It is incredibly honest.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

These new works require a lot of time and space to breathe. The composition is simple and the work itself could be done in a day, but it’s the process that makes these paintings full.  The base fabric for a lot of these works is hand-woven cotton made by artisans in Oaxaca. I lay out the fabric on my studio floor, paint, drip and pour all over the surface. The physicality of this process centers me in my body. After the fabric has lived a bit in this new state, I rip in into shapes – reminding myself (and the fabric) that nothing is permanent, nothing is static and for that reason, I never plot out anything before I start. The fragmented pieces sit on the floor of my studio, breathe again, and then on a day when I feel particularly energized I start the process of piecing them together. For this body of work, I have been particularly inspired by the women of Gee’s Bend.  In their world of creations, there is no such thing as perfect, they let the fabrics guide them and it’s some of the most beautiful and earnest work I’ve ever seen. It is incredibly honest.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

These new works require a lot of time and space to breathe. The composition is simple and the work itself could be done in a day, but it’s the process that makes these paintings full.  The base fabric for a lot of these works is hand-woven cotton made by artisans in Oaxaca. I lay out the fabric on my studio floor, paint, drip and pour all over the surface. The physicality of this process centers me in my body. After the fabric has lived a bit in this new state, I rip in into shapes – reminding myself (and the fabric) that nothing is permanent, nothing is static and for that reason, I never plot out anything before I start. The fragmented pieces sit on the floor of my studio, breathe again, and then on a day when I feel particularly energized I start the process of piecing them together. For this body of work, I have been particularly inspired by the women of Gee’s Bend.  In their world of creations, there is no such thing as perfect, they let the fabrics guide them and it’s some of the most beautiful and earnest work I’ve ever seen. It is incredibly honest.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

These new works require a lot of time and space to breathe. The composition is simple and the work itself could be done in a day, but it’s the process that makes these paintings full.  The base fabric for a lot of these works is hand-woven cotton made by artisans in Oaxaca. I lay out the fabric on my studio floor, paint, drip and pour all over the surface. The physicality of this process centers me in my body. After the fabric has lived a bit in this new state, I rip in into shapes – reminding myself (and the fabric) that nothing is permanent, nothing is static and for that reason, I never plot out anything before I start. The fragmented pieces sit on the floor of my studio, breathe again, and then on a day when I feel particularly energized I start the process of piecing them together. For this body of work, I have been particularly inspired by the women of Gee’s Bend.  In their world of creations, there is no such thing as perfect, they let the fabrics guide them and it’s some of the most beautiful and earnest work I’ve ever seen. It is incredibly honest.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

These new works require a lot of time and space to breathe. The composition is simple and the work itself could be done in a day, but it’s the process that makes these paintings full.  The base fabric for a lot of these works is hand-woven cotton made by artisans in Oaxaca. I lay out the fabric on my studio floor, paint, drip and pour all over the surface. The physicality of this process centers me in my body. After the fabric has lived a bit in this new state, I rip in into shapes – reminding myself (and the fabric) that nothing is permanent, nothing is static and for that reason, I never plot out anything before I start. The fragmented pieces sit on the floor of my studio, breathe again, and then on a day when I feel particularly energized I start the process of piecing them together. For this body of work, I have been particularly inspired by the women of Gee’s Bend.  In their world of creations, there is no such thing as perfect, they let the fabrics guide them and it’s some of the most beautiful and earnest work I’ve ever seen. It is incredibly honest.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

These new works require a lot of time and space to breathe. The composition is simple and the work itself could be done in a day, but it’s the process that makes these paintings full.  The base fabric for a lot of these works is hand-woven cotton made by artisans in Oaxaca. I lay out the fabric on my studio floor, paint, drip and pour all over the surface. The physicality of this process centers me in my body. After the fabric has lived a bit in this new state, I rip in into shapes – reminding myself (and the fabric) that nothing is permanent, nothing is static and for that reason, I never plot out anything before I start. The fragmented pieces sit on the floor of my studio, breathe again, and then on a day when I feel particularly energized I start the process of piecing them together. For this body of work, I have been particularly inspired by the women of Gee’s Bend.  In their world of creations, there is no such thing as perfect, they let the fabrics guide them and it’s some of the most beautiful and earnest work I’ve ever seen. It is incredibly honest.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

It’s hard to know when the painting process begins or ends –  feels like I’m forever pulling moments, patching fragments and stitching them together.   It’s all the little things: soft morning air before the sun starts beating down, gospel songs and baptist choirs, wild flowers growing on the back roads of cotton fields, fireflies before the sun sets, cicadas singing, cotton fields that look like snow in september, my dad’s laugh, the first time I felt my baby kick inside my belly. It’s the journey of how all the pieces land together - it’s the space in-between.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

It’s hard to know when the painting process begins or ends –  feels like I’m forever pulling moments, patching fragments and stitching them together.   It’s all the little things: soft morning air before the sun starts beating down, gospel songs and baptist choirs, wild flowers growing on the back roads of cotton fields, fireflies before the sun sets, cicadas singing, cotton fields that look like snow in september, my dad’s laugh, the first time I felt my baby kick inside my belly. It’s the journey of how all the pieces land together - it’s the space in-between.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

It’s hard to know when the painting process begins or ends –  feels like I’m forever pulling moments, patching fragments and stitching them together.   It’s all the little things: soft morning air before the sun starts beating down, gospel songs and baptist choirs, wild flowers growing on the back roads of cotton fields, fireflies before the sun sets, cicadas singing, cotton fields that look like snow in september, my dad’s laugh, the first time I felt my baby kick inside my belly. It’s the journey of how all the pieces land together - it’s the space in-between.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

It’s hard to know when the painting process begins or ends –  feels like I’m forever pulling moments, patching fragments and stitching them together.   It’s all the little things: soft morning air before the sun starts beating down, gospel songs and baptist choirs, wild flowers growing on the back roads of cotton fields, fireflies before the sun sets, cicadas singing, cotton fields that look like snow in september, my dad’s laugh, the first time I felt my baby kick inside my belly. It’s the journey of how all the pieces land together - it’s the space in-between.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

It’s hard to know when the painting process begins or ends –  feels like I’m forever pulling moments, patching fragments and stitching them together.   It’s all the little things: soft morning air before the sun starts beating down, gospel songs and baptist choirs, wild flowers growing on the back roads of cotton fields, fireflies before the sun sets, cicadas singing, cotton fields that look like snow in september, my dad’s laugh, the first time I felt my baby kick inside my belly. It’s the journey of how all the pieces land together - it’s the space in-between.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

It’s hard to know when the painting process begins or ends –  feels like I’m forever pulling moments, patching fragments and stitching them together.   It’s all the little things: soft morning air before the sun starts beating down, gospel songs and baptist choirs, wild flowers growing on the back roads of cotton fields, fireflies before the sun sets, cicadas singing, cotton fields that look like snow in september, my dad’s laugh, the first time I felt my baby kick inside my belly. It’s the journey of how all the pieces land together - it’s the space in-between.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

It’s hard to know when the painting process begins or ends –  feels like I’m forever pulling moments, patching fragments and stitching them together.   It’s all the little things: soft morning air before the sun starts beating down, gospel songs and baptist choirs, wild flowers growing on the back roads of cotton fields, fireflies before the sun sets, cicadas singing, cotton fields that look like snow in september, my dad’s laugh, the first time I felt my baby kick inside my belly. It’s the journey of how all the pieces land together - it’s the space in-between.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

It’s hard to know when the painting process begins or ends –  feels like I’m forever pulling moments, patching fragments and stitching them together.   It’s all the little things: soft morning air before the sun starts beating down, gospel songs and baptist choirs, wild flowers growing on the back roads of cotton fields, fireflies before the sun sets, cicadas singing, cotton fields that look like snow in september, my dad’s laugh, the first time I felt my baby kick inside my belly. It’s the journey of how all the pieces land together - it’s the space in-between.

A note from Caroline about her process when creating these pieces: 

These new works require a lot of time and space to breathe. The composition is simple and the work itself could be done in a day, but it’s the process that makes these paintings full.  The base fabric for a lot of these works is hand-woven cotton made by artisans in Oaxaca. I lay out the fabric on my studio floor, paint, drip and pour all over the surface. The physicality of this process centers me in my body. After the fabric has lived a bit in this new state, I rip in into shapes – reminding myself (and the fabric) that nothing is permanent, nothing is static and for that reason, I never plot out anything before I start. The fragmented pieces sit on the floor of my studio, breathe again, and then on a day when I feel particularly energized I start the process of piecing them together. For this body of work, I have been particularly inspired by the women of Gee’s Bend.  In their world of creations, there is no such thing as perfect, they let the fabrics guide them and it’s some of the most beautiful and earnest work I’ve ever seen. It is incredibly honest.