“what didn’t you do to bury me
but you forgot that I was a seed”
– Dinos Christianopoulos1 1978, allegedly addressed to the Greek literary community
Traditionally, new bodies of artwork by contemporary artists are exhibited in bricks and mortar spaces. For an artist like me, creating enough work to fill a gallery takes at least a year. My paintings are carefully constructed and methodically painted, even when I work spontaneously.
While I miss exhibiting – and would love to work with a couple of gallerists I respect – saving the money to fund a year of creating artwork to be displayed in a single location for two weeks and offering everything for sale at once is increasingly complicated by rapid change and global events. Besides, the audience for my art is not in one physical location. The only place we all visit together is the digital world, where we can simultaneously have shared yet private and individual experiences.
We all know that standing in front of an artwork is a superior experience to seeing a reproduction in print or online. However, books and the online experience are also meaningful. These days we filter almost everything through the internet before deciding if we'd like to experience it 'in the real'. And 'in the real' means different things. We can travel to see exhibitions that are open to the public (an experience I've cherished since childhood but rarely do anymore). Or, if in a position to do so, we can skip the show, buy remotely and have an original artwork delivered. For better or worse, faster and more private experiences are priorities of modern life during turbulent times.
Things change. Theatre still exists in its original form but there are additional ways to experience the art of acting. I still love plays yet see them only occasionally. When I lived close to a cinema I went often. Over the last five years I've watched one film at the cinema a suburb away which has since closed. Movies on a small screen don’t affect me in the same way. Although initially resistant — and not previously a fan of television — I now prefer series on streaming networks. Viewing a series on a mobile tablet feels unexpectedly intimate, like visiting another world which unfolds parallel to my own life. A world I can go to no matter where I am, physically. To my surprise, I like to anticipate the next instalment and don't mind waiting while it is crafted.
One of my favourite experiences of fine art happens in the studio, each time a painting from a series is completed but before I know how the body of work will look as a whole. It feels like observing each flower in a garden blossom individually, rather than touring a garden to see every flower at the same time.
Another experience I love is to live with original artworks, to feel as if I am visiting and revisiting the world within them. I created my new paintings so they change as the viewer is closer or further away. Up close each colour is separate, from a distance they meld together in what I think of as a shimmer.
In addition to writing here I have begun sharing short form videos at @hazeldooney on Instagram and @DooneyTv on Youtube, a mix of a serialised documentary in bite-sized pieces and studio visit. I’ve found that video shows the luminosity of paint better than a photograph.
The first series, Sunlit Flowers, is my take on the tradition of floral still life paintings, beginning with Frangipani. I think of these paintings as a parallel universe in which colour is a form of energy, like particles floating in space which, for a moment, come together to form a flower before dissipating again. That moment is the painting on linen.
For each flower painted on linen, I'll paint a small number of abstract works on paper inspired by its colours in different natural light. These are intended to evoke memories of experiences of nature: frangipani bud with dew in the early morning; bright hues in subtropical sunlight; frangipani-scented breeze on a hot, humid afternoon.
I developed this form of abstract painting over a six-month period with the support of arts patron and venture capitalist Mark Carnegie, who owns the earliest body of this work, a suite of sixty paintings on paper made in 2022. During his patronage, in addition to figuring out my painting technique, I researched the work of artists who came before me to make sure I build upon rather than accidentally repeat their work. My primary influences are the way Claude Monet captured light through tiny variations in colour and Mark Rothko's intuitive, poetic ability to convey emotion far beyond colour psychology. Though the most significant is the subconscious influence of Paul Klee’s watercolours, reproduced in my mother’s book collection, with which I’ve been so familiar since childhood they seem like core memories instead of physical artworks. Rejecting the productization of art in this era, all paintings are made only by me with no assistants.
Each of these paintings on paper is an original which costs less than the latest 'it bag' or status watch while being far more rare. Based on the steady natural appreciation of my work over the years – without market interference; despite a long, dramatic hiatus; and without institutional support – it is reasonable to expect these works will increase in value as long as they are kept in good condition, held long term and resold at an appropriate time via a reputable art consultant or auction house. I will be keeping a small number of artworks each year for my own investment and working proactively to increase their value in an authentic and sustainable way. As part of this approach, primary market pricing will increase as the series progresses.
Paintings are available on completion (when shown online) with worldwide delivery. These have been sold however if you are interested in future works from this series, please email me via the contact form on my website, hazeldooney.com .
Birth name Konstantinos Dimitriadis, 1931–2020.