Artist’s Corner: Kevin Baldwin

Recollection, Study No. 11

A Musical score requires immense focus and understading. Practicing and bringing the notational language to life changes daily as you uncover new ways of weaving together lines, gestures, and structures. In the Recollection series, I interpret the black acrylic notation using charcoal, metal powders, and acrylic. Each day new possibilities arise, and the charcoal and powders remain malleable; the medium allows alterations in gesture and layers, or even be removed. This process highlights the beauty inside this raw and imperfect process.

After the work is completed, the work will always be in a constant state of performance. The metal powders placed into the work will oxidize over the years. The work, how it existed yesterday, is not the exact work you see today. Rust, patina, and tarnish highlight the passing of time as the painting never stops performing, leaving on a recollection of what the work was.

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Aphrodite’s Tango: A Wandering Improv of Love, Travel & Togetherness

Conditions were suspiciously perfect as a full moon hung over a rainbow sea of city lights in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. We danced on a rooftop to tango music, becoming sudden converts to whatever religion Aphrodite commanded and thus had a god(ess)-given responsibility to romance, given the circumstances. I am very much not a dancer, but that evening I appeared to be and so I think our first date was spoken through movement and embrace. Ideal, actually, given our native languages were not the same. Victor, my dance partner that evening, and I were part of a tango festival as dance teacher/performer and musician respectively. My colleagues on violin encouraged us (though we needed little convincing) and Victor ended up joining us on the rest of our tour through Mexico.

Black Americana

I’ve always been telling stories. Before I had the words, I had images, gestures, make-believe worlds. Art didn’t arrive like a choice, it found me...

A Letter to the Painter I Didn’t Know I Was Becoming

Dear reader, I didn’t think I’d become a painter. When I was four years old, I told my parents I wanted to be a dessinatrice—a graphite artist. I didn’t know what that fully meant, only that I wanted to spend my life with pencils in hand, in a quiet room, making images appear where there was once only blankness, until late in the night. It felt like a kind of peaceful magic, and it still does. But life, as it often does, led me through a long and scenic route.

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