Which, considering the style, may not be that simple. The contemplative expressions have to counterbalance playful and imaginative stylistic features, such as lack of a backdrop, schematic and highly simplified drawing of most animals (just compare the cats in the illustrations with the cats in realist oil paintings - the discrepancy is no less than startling). The list continues: grotesque body parts, distorted perspectives and irrational angles assigned to almost everything big enough to get noticed at the first glance. I think that for that counter effect the artist borrows facial expressions from the Spanish tradition — from the Majas “who never smile.”

This may sound far fetched, but there are many curious similarities. The girls are brunettes, just as Francisco de Goya’s famous portraits: that of Tadea Arias de Enríquez, of the Marchioness of Villafranca, of the clothed Maja (and the naked), the Marchioness of Santa Cruz (all hanging in Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid) and so on.

View Larger Map

Cindy Revell’s models do not smile, and bear the mark of self-abandonment, the result of their “activities” of sleep or meditation. Most of the mentioned ladies also appear engrossed in thought, apparently about themes the attributes of which appear beside them: a lute to symbolize music, a palette and a portrait to allude to painting. There is a common air of independence and self-sufficiency.

I think that these two qualities underlie that product (healthy soft drinks) or that concept mentioned earlier. Both herbal tea and meditation help to take care of one’s body; having the choice to use them denotes control, which in turn denotes emancipation and freedom… I should stop though, before this review sounds too much like a copy.

Read More Reviews:

• Michelangelo: The Sistine Chapel Ceiling, The Prophet Jeremiah
• Linda Lucas Hardy: Wrapped in Plastic
• Claude Monet: The Poplars Series
• SINH: Melancholic Flowers
• Alessandro Andreuccetti: Human Angels or Angelic Humans?
• Michelangelo: The Sistine Chapel, Libyan Sibyl
• El Greco: Saint Martin and the Beggar
• Raphael: Madonna del Granduca
• Robin Neudorfer: “The Structure of Trees”
• Todd Bonita: The Keys to Desire

The artist consistently (even religiously) remains within the genre: most changes are limited to composition and because of that are easier to follow. Stable framework allows for the radical shifts within it; stability and change interlock and form a style rich with controlled modification — a mature and confident expressive instrument. But imagine a different scenario: suppose the artist wanted to experiment with some generic qualities — geometrical form and lighting, for instance. The fruits slowly lose their recognizable shape, approaching a more cubist representation; light loses meaning, the compositions become flat… I don’t think that would work (probably a complete stylistic make over is needed). In a way, this counter example emphasizes how solid and reliable that framework is.

Light may fall from either direction, and elucidate areas usually ignored by the human eye. This feature is quite elusive (OK, I’m speaking for myself), but when discovered gives a sense of relief — I have to wonder if eliciting such a response was a part of the plan. It appears that the artist enjoys shaping her subjects by adding white and by manipulating value. Both color and light display properties reminiscent of Flemish still life painting, a tradition the artist mentions as one of her influences. The air indeed appears to mix the soft and broad Northern sunlight with cool, light breeze, added to this is that quaint sanctity of interior — or to resurrect that mix.

I think that the artist has developed a focused vision: she strives to minimize frictions (and loss of mental energy resulting from it) occurring between the audience and the art piece, created by the painter’s persona. In other words, she aims to downplay her interference as the creator, in a way trying to showcase the art as independent, objective “thing” that appears from nowhere and should be judged simply for what it is. I find this idealistic approach (or my own understanding of it as such) appealing. I would claim that the artist positions herself as a skilled and sensitive visual communicator. She redefines the process of presenting and viewing art — discreetly and without unnecessary grandeur.

Read Related Reviews:

• Robin Neudorfer: Still Life
• Sandra Flood: Still Life with Grand Piano
• Heather Horton: Still Life
• M Collier: Typewriter and Rotary Phone
• Jiddje Straatsma
• Jeanne Illenye

Arguably the most elaborate painterly element in Cindy Revell’s oeuvre is space. Subjects in her still life works spread on well-defined platforms, sculpted with light effects that may seem surprisingly intricate for small or even medium-sized paintings. But looking at her illustrations or covers for children’s books reveals a reversal to flat two dimensionality, or images where the illusion of space is only rudimentary — a result of certain “simplifications,” appropriate for children’s minds. It indeed may seem that the realistic oil pieces have been painted by another artist, so different they appear from the illustrations. The painter’s ability to fully immerse herself in a specific genre is almost uncanny.

Space takes on an additional spin in furniture art such as these trunk decorations and paintings. These boxes separate space, the artwork literally defining and encasing it in a three dimensional ambiance. I think that this twist is symbolical of the artist’s ability to shape space (in realist works as well) and of her continuous dialog with it, or conversation, if you will. It may appear as if the painter is consulting with space while working — much like people consult each other while discussing the color with which to paint a room during repairs — and lets its voice be heard and reverberated.

The images endear themselves to the viewer: playful and colorful, they also evoke a whole series of associations with similar art forms. The artist mentions wall art; there are also the bas-relief sculptures, amphora drawings and so on. Each plate contains a cultural microcosm — an Indian jungle reminiscent of Kipling’s tales, or a snapshot of Italian cuisine, its recipes and the art of food preparation. Quick, sharp movements and a rainbow of colors attract the eye at first, highly dynamic compositions and multitude of detail entertain it after the first impression subsides. But possibly the most rewarding aspect of this kind of art is the ability to touch it and literally sense it with our fingers. It panders to this childish instinct to sense and feel various objects — and eventually indulges it too.

Read More Reviews:

• Jacquelyn L. Berl: Pointillist Pieces
• Alvin Richard: Scenes with Children
• Robin Neudorfer: “The Structure of Trees”
• Casey Klahn: How to Make Your Audience Weep
• El Greco: The Disrobing of Christ (El Espolio)
• Giotto, Virtues and Vices: Justice
• Jean-Francois Millet: The Gleaners
• Takeyce Walter: River Landscapes
• [Art Interpretation Guide] Brainstorming Part 2: Elements of Art — Lines and Colors
• Sandra Flood: Female Figure — Too Sexy for Your Canvas