The dazzling yellow surface, which plays a minor supporting role in other such paintings, finally becomes the protagonist. It occupies more than half of the panel, and appears to almost spill over, beyond it; the composition in general bears interesting similarities to Vincent van Gogh’s “Wheatfield with Crows.”

The slightly arching path that dissects the field also assists in creating a sense of depth and perspective. It narrows towards the left — interestingly, going against the natural left-to-right direction of viewing — and acts as a suture that binds together the two resulting yellow areas. The green estuary to the right echoes the mass of trees, similarly green, to the left.

Changes in value (the yellow tone approaches reddish at its farthest point) not only support the perspective, but also lend the fields themselves an impression of volume, and of life. Largely abstract, these blankets of color convey interplay with air and light by their varying tonality; sun itself appears to buried somewhere underneath. Chaotic brushwork, clearly visible at close viewing, emphasizes — and indeed, provokes — these chromatic effects.

This is one of Tracy Helgeson’s calmest landscapes. Dramatic red and crimson hues, as well as stark light and shade effects, which can often be found in her other pieces on the theme, give way to a poised, homogeneous, open-ended depiction of nature — caught, perhaps, in a rare moment of slumber.

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The generous depth of the forest and the abstract blue and white stripes that depict the sky produce a contrast, a contrast that is being mediated by the tapering tree crowns. Their triangular shapes become lighter towards the vertex, as they absorb the light and the atmosphere. The cool sky also offsets the intensely saturated yellowish color of the very foreground, where the surface reflects the light back into space with a dazzling impressionistic effect.

The framing stripes of the sky and of the ground have a compositional role as well: as they broaden towards the right, and appear to “squeeze” the dark grove, rendering the trees smaller, they create the effect of an overall, global perspective. Colors and shapes may dominate this piece, but perspective lends it dynamism, however measured and subtle. It invokes a vanishing point in our mind’s eye.

The triangles of the tree tops form a toothed ornament complemented by the blue&white mirroring pattern. Most of the “teeth” are either below or above the horizontal axis; they dictate a varying geometrical tracery, upholding viewing interest in a more abstract vein. Eventually, the resulting interplay of uneven dark and light geometrical forms, all described by blurred, untidy contours, generates a sense of motion, and brings to mind the slow swaying of trees as they capture the wind between the branches.

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On the one hand, this composition is uncharacteristically crowded — most of Tracy Helgeson’s barn paintings relish space for its own sake, assigning it an important role as a foil to the large buildings and tree clusters. On the other hand, the concentration of structures creates considerable tension, almost as if we are suddenly being confronted with an urban setting instead of the accustomed country one.

Each of the three main color areas in the foreground — the red barn, the blue barn (apparently the shaded wall of a red barn as well) and the greenish-yellowish grove — represents a primary hue. While these color “bundles” seem to challenge and inherently repel each other, the physical contours of the structures, including the leafage, perform the opposite: the slope on which they are placed encourages them all towards a single point at the center, towards unification. They gravitate towards the epicenter and may appear to be in the danger of tumbling into a single unified heap.

The love-hate situation of the two buildings and the trees finds an outlet in the background, where another structure, painted in soft pink, stands very close to a tree, in what seems like a peaceful coexistence. In a way, this background act represents a possible “optimistic” development of the primary act: not a heap, but an ordered partnership.

An interesting common feature makes this piece notionally harmonious despite all the confrontations: none of the described elements is visible in its full form — all of them are cut either by the edge of the panel or by their compositional neighbor. This device marks all of the structures as interdependent — they become fully meaningful only in the context of the painting as a whole, where all components intertwine and complement each other.

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The eye registers the road subconsciously, effortlessly, moving on to the brighter elements ahead, which appear closer than they really are. Although the painting captures a single moment in time, it represents, by bringing viewers so close to the road, a continuity. When in stable motion, our eyes become oblivious to approaching objects, and move on to more entertaining — or simply different — things ahead; the process repeats itself time after time, for as long as the car moves forward. Byzantine Blue Road implies this process in a single visual sweep.

Not unlike the word “road,” the painting invites several allegorical interpretations. The perspective forms a vista that transforms, with the trees, into a pipe-like tunnel — at the end of which we can see a light. Furthermore, the road is significantly tilted in the foreground, perhaps referring to the bumps experienced during our everyday life. Going even further, the piece may seem like a magical flower endowed with differently colored petals, or a wheel of fortune.

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As a result, many paintings carry a powerful emotional load. Tracy Helgeson prefers warm, sometimes outright hot yellows, reds and purples; she willingly experiments with value, particularly with shade, which adds a touch of dusky mysticism to the palette, while retaining its unusual intensity. I believe that her fanciful palette might be her most important artistic accomplishment — one that many artists spend careers on achieving.

The paintings convey emotional depth while remaining fundamentally unpretentious. Wide areas of color, of subdued, almost subconscious vibrancy, are allowed to affect viewers to the fullest possible extent — and suggest interpretations. The red barns may refer to the blood and tears of hard work, the purple trees suggest an autumnal sadness and loneliness, while the tinted blues and yellows instill universal calm.

Sometimes the paintings betray comic effects: the artist will slant the houses and the barns to expose their awkward side. In some pieces a grove will be broken into several groups of trees, a different color assigned to each one — implying rivalry, or a conflict. These devices generate interest, and make the viewers feel that they enter an untapped territory. Overall, the artist covers a wide emotional range, balancing earnestness arising from the palette with compositional cheerfulness.

A theme that recurs in Tracy Helgeson’s art is harmony: one, painterly formal, another, more allegorical, of people with nature. The two kinds often blend into one, while compositional harmony appears to comment on the relationship between people and their surroundings. Semblance of geometric forms — the roof of a barn and the top of a tree — not only contributes to a sense of compositional rhythm but also emphasizes the underlying link between humankind and nature.

Tracy Helgeson lives and works in Upstate New York and keeps a website and a blog.

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