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L A D Y M c C R A D Y . . . f e e l s l i k e h o m e
home.resume.statement . |. . p a i n t i n g . . d r a w i n g . ..presip r e s s
LADY McCRADY is presented in Paris by OLIVIER RENAUD-CLEMENT
Galerie J & J Donguy, November 1985
She walks, strides the city walkways, the zebra warning barriers, the danger signals of precipitous edges. Fast, from one capital to the next, New York, London or Paris, Cairo, Tokyo, proving she was born in Speedway City: perhaps it is this name inscribed in the cavity of her veins that makes her traverse the roads, the axis, the senses. She sees, or rather, records hastily the incidental manhole, a little nothing that she seizes and (unknown to her) that seizes her, for her series of archaeological digs.
Here in the smoking cities, on the glistening slate pavements, the reflective beacons encircle a gaping spot, an area under construction: the drain plate lifts, leaving you to see the glowing embers. It is this chink in the slick surface that steals her. Here is an improper flaw, a troupe of guideposts warning you of the brink. She pursues it, forgetful of the railing.Notice that her gesture on the canvas enlarges on the vivid color relationships, in sympathy with the majestic rhythms of her fevered body. In red, in orange, she pulses the smothering light from underground, vibrant, strident, with an air of jazz that insinuates itself louder and louder. Backstage in the wings since she was three years old, she fell asleep listening when her father rehearsed his orchestra. One calls her Lady, perhaps she tossed a pebble on a child’s hopscotch grid between Heaven and Hell.Today for this first exhibition in Europe, Lady McCrady as she plays again, opens sealed containters, uncaps, adds color to her excavations, these fires next to where we walk, calmly . . .
by Claudia PALUEL-MARMONT, Paris
Translated from the original French
P r e d i c a m e n t s . . .
Solo exhibition, Southern CT State University, Feb 17-March 31, 2010
The theories I work with over time, The Sublime, Action Painting, and Phenomenology, form a spiral, not a circle. They evolve always as tools of ongoing survival.
I’m a NY painter and I draw in a moving outdoor studio, roving through warning cones, danger barriers, and street construction gypsy work camps that appear and disappear, places for reflection in the midst of our created chaos.
The Sublime is about scary big stuff we can’t control: vertigo, the edge of falling, is its signifier. Husserl’s Phenomenology, a judgement-free intuitive scientific method of detached and reflective attentiveness, is useful for approaching the unknown situation. And I refer to Rosenberg’s Action Painting by appropriating Jackson’s ‘drip’ as a feminist. All the objects I make, in stoneware, steel, silk or canvas are painted replicas of my experience, and they fling themselves around and smoke and steam and flash and try to find their balance.
These are souvenirs of that consciousness, stolen from my studio, temporarily.