Art & Critique » Tracy Helgeson

Tracy Helgeson: Fields

elijah — Sat, 20 Oct 2007 23:00:53 +0000

This piece describes an open landscape, and it differs significantly from most of the artist’s paintings because of that. Usually there was something to catch the eye — a barn, a road or a tree — but here, despite the path between the two fields, the viewing remains unobstructed. I think that this peculiarity marks a minor compositional and stylistic deviation, which signals the artist’s readiness to evolve creatively and try new things. This is the stuff that makes people come back for more; the changes and surprises within the familiar framework. Additionally, we see some green color, a rare hue in the artist’s palette. It gives the yellow a friendly tinge unwitnessed (by me) before; the only familiar color here is the pale and coolly neutral blue, which serves as a style tag and links the painting to others. In the context of the artist’s oeuvre, this piece may fall under the category of “transitional,” or “experimental.”

I would like to suggest an association (improbable as it may seem) to expound the movement of the fields. I find that the yellow areas, outlined by soft arches, resemble the backs of swimming whales (that I saw on television). The path between the two fields would be the mouth of one of the animals. There is a quiet, slow and imperial motion evident in the yellow thickness, and it reminds me of the see in general, and of those mammal in particular. The grandeur of nature is given more freedom and it fills the open space to the brim; the green forest appears to almost drown in the yellow abundance. Also, I like how the area near the lower edge of the panel can be ambiguously interpreted as either a part of the principal or a negative space. In the second case, it correlates to the sky as an enclosing element of the bright field in the middle, in the first case it becomes a complementary foil to the brighter counterpart.

The trademark purple is not entirely absent: it creates a glow in the form of almost every line in this piece, including the edges of the panel. In a way, it’s as if it simmers somewhere beneath or behind the rest of the colors, occasionally bursting out, creating an effect of eclipse. This feature may also refer to the artist’s strong allegiance and trust in her palette. Some colors are always present — even when they aren’t. The four segments of this piece divide it into a balanced composition, the uneven green line of the forest providing some cheerful irregularity. I think that when compared to others in terms of atmosphere, this piece emerges as more calm, as it lacks human presence (though the fields imply it). For once, the artist ignores the tension between the artificial and the natural, offering a psychological respite. I’m taking it, and I recommend it to everyone involved — it adds perspective and provides a welcome sense of closure.

Read my other reviews of Tracy Helgeson’s artwork.

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Tracy Helgeson: A May Day

elijah — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 21:17:25 +0000

I have no idea why the artist called this piece “A May Day” — to me, the name “An Autumn Day ” seems much more appropriate. Perhaps this is an irony of a sort, a weather sarcasm, if you will. I may be choosing the wrong path discussing this painting as if it were depicting autumn, but I just don’t see any other. I would be very interested in your opinions on this matter. Anyway, autumn looms schematically large: the leaves, when loosing their color, usually form random, particolored patterns — but here the hues are accurately distributed between three areas, gray, purple and yellow; as a result the color diversity is reproduced on the macro level of the whole forest. The colors need to be mixed in the viewer’s mind in order to elicit the mentioned seasonal association. Though the process is probably instant, it is still perceptible, like a flash, akin to those of inspiration.

There is an interesting contrast between the generous perspective and depth of the forest and the flat blue and white stripes that cover the background, depicting, I assume, the clouds and the sky. Once again, these two areas are more schematic than realistically representational; once again, they need to be mixed to produce the skies we are accustomed to, only this time the process doesn’t seem to suggest itself that obviously. The blue and the white also neutralize the characteristically saturated colors in the foreground, adding a somewhat paradoxical (as they lack depth by themselves) visual, more abstract and conceptual perspective to the piece. The stripes and the yellow ground serve as enveloping compositional constituents; they narrow towards the right, “squeezing” the dark yellow grove — but the other two return the favor, by invading over the borders in the middle and pushing them out on the left.

The triangles of the tree crown tops form a toothed ornament complemented by the blue&white mirroring pattern. Most of the teeth are either below or above the imaginary horizontal axis; they dictate a varying geometrical tracery, upholding viewing interest and fascination. The large triangles of the trees create a further geometrical variety when opposed to the approximate white rectangle at the top of the painting. I think that all of these features attest to the artist’s ability to effectively combine color with form and produce an engaging piece of art. On a different note, I would like to address Tracy’s remark that I found elements in her artwork that she has not realized existed, as she relies mostly on her artistic intuition. To my mind, this is exactly the job of the critic: to try and define the elusive, intuitive elements that the artist passes on driven by inspiration and intuition. This reminds of the anecdote about the frog and the millipede: when the former, envious of the latter’s elegant pacing, asked the millipede how she manages to not get entangled in her feet, she began thinking, hesitating and eventually stopped. So I think that I should try to do my best not to be the frog, and not interfere with millipedes’ graceful walking. But I can’t promise anything!

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Tracy Helgeson: Dark Blue Barn

elijah — Mon, 15 Oct 2007 19:38:01 +0000

Quite a complex composition unfolds before the viewer. Two of the most prominent elements from the artist’s arsenal spread on the panel: the barns and the trees; they interact dynamically, both in color and placement. I think that this piece can be divided into two acts, the first, the main one, happening in the foreground — it offers some friction and contrast, and the second, the low-key act that takes place in the background, and which absorbs at least some of the electricity generated in the front. To my mind, in the context of Tracy’s artwork as a whole, this painting conciliates two contradicting concepts (and that makes it more compelling). On the one hand, its composition is notably uncharacteristically crowded but, on the other hand, it speaks most eloquently about the characteristics of the artist’s style. To a critic, such a piece always presents a find and a must examine item.

There are three main color areas in the foreground (the two barns and the grove), each one representing a primary hue. Their triangular disposition also echoes the color wheel; however, the symbolism ensuing from this commonality is rather divisionary: a primary color cannot be split and somehow move closer to its counterpart — and these three components, though residing on a unifying surface, inherently oppose and repel each other. Yet their physical inclination towards each other defies this notion, and, in fact, implies the other direction of color interaction, that of mixing and creating new colors. I have no idea how I ended up in such a detached discussion. Well, maybe some idea: discussing Tracy’s work means talking about color first and foremost. Anyway, physical, almost intimate proximity between the three areas may imply complete blending and the emergence of a different hue.

In more pragmatic terms, the love-hate situation of the two buildings and the trees finds an outlet in the background, where another structure stands very close to a tree, in what seems like a peaceful coexistence. Physical proximity is further emphasized by that of color, as a single hue, of varying value unifies the whole scene. In a way, this background act represents a possible development of the primary act. Though distant, it holds its own, largely due to the assistance from the front, as the roofs and the lines of the tree crowns point towards it, and, the barns and the grove form a corridor that leads directly to it. Eventually, one common feature makes this piece harmonious: 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 the compositional neighbor. I think that this is an intentional shortcoming; an artistic device that marks all of them as interdependent — they become fully meaningful only in the context of the painting as a whole, where all components intertwine and complement each other to create a harmonious unity.

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Tracy Helgeson: Byzantine Blue Road

elijah — Fri, 12 Oct 2007 20:42:29 +0000

A colorful piece, this painting can be viewed from afar and perceived as a magical asymmetrical flower, each color area representing a petal. That way it can appear as close as it gets to abstract art without actually containing any obvious abstract elements. But asymmetry plays a principal role without the involvement of a different stylistic interpretation: the composition, though heavily careening, can be naturally divided into two halves, the left and the right, both of which would include similar but uneven geometrical forms. However, they become commensurable in terms of palette. The right half would include all of the purple trees, with a thin stripe of yellow, blue and the gray-blue of the sky, while the left half would display a more even distribution of all the other colors except the purple. The hot orange grove compensates for its smaller size by its bright hue, and finds an analogous cooler counterpart in the purple forest. The blue of the driveway mediates between the two, as both contain traces of that color. The multiplicity and versatility of colors on the left find a stabilizing counterpart in the form of the single purple block on the right. Thus, geometrical asymmetry can be softened by palette correlation.

Essentially, the orange part is the focal point of this painting, and its arch leads the viewer’s gaze from left to right, and down, to the road in the foreground, in a circular motion. Wandering from one patch to another makes sense when looking at this piece: it is, after all divided into segments. What I find particularly notable is the clever and canonical use of brightest colors for the farthest elements and the coolest for the closest. We register the road subconsciously and automatically, without any effort, diverting our eyes to the more bright elements ahead, which appear closer than they really are. This progression fundamentally repeats the process of driving. The road, though covering almost all of the lower half, is visually undemanding. We become oblivious to objects that flow constantly before our eyes and prefer to move on to more entertaining things. I think it is not accidental that the next hill is painted with a bright color: this might be the artist’s way to mark this remote part as deceptively attractive, as it will shed all of its charm at close distance. In a way, this piece may also serve as an allegory for life and the illusion of individual achievement and success.

In fact, the painting invites several similar philosophical allegories. The perspective forms a vista that transforms, with the trees, into a tunnel — at the end of which we can see a light. The road is significantly tilted in the foreground, referring to the bumps we experience during our everyday walk (drive) of life but, at the visible end it levels out, as if to emphasize the improvement we should hope for in the future. Yet still, the abstract viewing mentioned in the first paragraph may be further reinvented as the wheel of fortune. But these interpretations do not impose on the viewer’s psyche, and the painting can work on different levels, depending on the viewer’s disposition and mood. To my mind, its power resides in its interpretative versatility; meanings look for and find outlets through suggestion. Ultimately, the artist exhibits the understanding that color harbors a universal appeal, and exploits it rightfully.

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Tracy Helgeson

elijah — Wed, 10 Oct 2007 20:36:04 +0000

Tracy Helgeson’s artwork comprises relatively few elements: pure and saturated colors, often astonishingly intense; trees, barns and roads; well-marked lines, diagonal or straight; and a great deal of imagination that helps to organize all of these features into clean and straightforward compositions. In a way, her pieces can be compared to the first machines, which consisted of a few parts — but never failed to perform. Although all parts are indispensable, color often steps in as the main painterly propeller: the mentioned objects do not require much detail and palette naturally takes precedence. As a result, many paintings carry a powerful emotional load that the intense colors emanate. Tracy 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 colors, while retaining their unusual intensity. I believe that her unorthodox palette might be her most important artistic accomplishment — one that many artists spend careers on achieving.

Looking at the artist’s paintings is a gratifying experience because they 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. Thus, the red barns refer to the blood and tears of hard work that it took to fill the premises, the purple trees suggest an autumnal sadness, and loneliness, and the tinted blues and yellows instill universal calm and confidence. Rural scenes tend to become tedious, but Tracy effortlessly eschews repetition, and she does it with a light, often ironic touch: she will slant the houses and the barns to expose their comical, awkward side, and she will break a grove into several groups of trees, a different color assigned to each one, to imply rivalry — these devices generate interest, and make the viewer feel that s/he enters an untapped territory. The artist covers a wide emotional range, balancing earnestness arising from the palette with compositional cheerfulness.

The underlying theme of Tracy’s artwork is harmony: painterly formal, as well as general, of people with nature. It seems that the former kind, achieved by technique and skill, proclaims the latter, as possible and attainable. These paintings demonstrate how artificial structures can blend with nature. Sometimes, it is difficult to determine whether the focus of the attention should be the building or the tree beside it, the grove or the field before it. This is a strangely clear ambiguity, because it becomes quite obvious what (among other themes) the artist is trying to tell the viewer. There is no conflict between the angular shapes of the barns and the round-like tree crowns; on the contrary, they often replicate each other, as the artist delineates the foliage by a series of lines which we tend to interpret as familiar ovals. The artist treats a customary artistic device as a means rather than a goal; social and political message may overrule the aesthetic effect. But it also may not — that depends on the viewer. Either way, this many-sided appeal makes Tracy’s artwork both original and durable.

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

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