This is a watercolor monotype from a series made in 2017. The image measures 24 x 19 inches. The artist paints the images and frosted mylar plates, allows them to dry and then brings them to press to print. The paper is soaked until saturated, 'calendared' through one press to release excess water and then printed through another press with just the right amount of moisture and pressure to transfer the image from plate to paper.
'These are constellations of paint that become multiple animated puddles, creatures, beings, stars and planets,
accumulations of paint growing out of a process that combines the accidental with the controlled, deliberate mark.
It was a joy making these, hard fought at first, slow to figure out how to work with the materials, eventually building
in ease and flow, one after the other. While planning and working on these I thought of Miro’s Constellations, which
I saw in 1993 at MOMA, and as I finished them I thought of this summer of the eclipse, when we all looked up at
the same time.
Our viewpoint is somehow part of above and below, we are rooted even as we move through the atmosphere, part
of the ground and part of the space surrounding it. The constellation seems to move between the two as well,
we see it above our world, multiple animations moving in space, sometimes coming back down towards the ground,
sometimes moving into the ground.
I’m stuck to the ground but I’m always looking up into another space, to the sky, the stars and planets, and seeing
this as a vehicle for imagination, imagining other worlds, other lives, other possibilities, other ways of existence.
Imagination, putting yourself into an experience you haven’t literally had, is the start of empathy. We could
use more empathy right now.' Eva Lundsager, August 2017
'These are constellations of paint that become multiple animated puddles, creatures, beings, stars and planets,
accumulations of paint growing out of a process that combines the accidental with the controlled, deliberate mark.
It was a joy making these, hard fought at first, slow to figure out how to work with the materials, eventually building
in ease and flow, one after the other. While planning and working on these I thought of Miro’s Constellations, which
I saw in 1993 at MOMA, and as I finished them I thought of this summer of the eclipse, when we all looked up at
the same time.
Our viewpoint is somehow part of above and below, we are rooted even as we move through the atmosphere, part
of the ground and part of the space surrounding it. The constellation seems to move between the two as well,
we see it above our world, multiple animations moving in space, sometimes coming back down towards the ground,
sometimes moving into the ground.
I’m stuck to the ground but I’m always looking up into another space, to the sky, the stars and planets, and seeing
this as a vehicle for imagination, imagining other worlds, other lives, other possibilities, other ways of existence.
Imagination, putting yourself into an experience you haven’t literally had, is the start of empathy. We could
use more empathy right now.' Eva Lundsager, August 2017
