My grandfather was a painter in PA, as was his father, Julius Beck. In the 1880s he sailed across the Atlantic to study art at the Beaux Arts in Paris. As a child I would spend summers with him. He read me bedtime stories filled with etchings of princes, mermaids and dragons. When I was three, he showed me my mother’s early drawings of princesses and asked me if I would like to draw. Thus, my career began.
My great aunt Jane Peterson, also a painter, was an American impressionist. I fell in love with the vibrant oil colors on her palette in the sun light; bright cadmium yellows, greens and oranges. I found the smell of turpentine exhilarating and sexy.
I am captivated by faces — people’s body language, their expressions. One of the kindest men I know, has a perennial scowl on his face; it’s his mask of protection, he appears angry and unapproachable, he is neither. We all wear masks to cover our vulnerabilities. Sitting for a portrait, defenses fall away, revealing the true grace of a person.
My paintings are about this interactive connection between myself and the person being depicted; the wordless communication that leads to a work that is not only a likeness, but ‘feels like’ the person portrayed and reveals deeper insights into their personality. In a successful work, the desired result will be true communication with the viewer.
During the Covid 19 lockdown, everyone in NYC stayed home. I dreamed of places I loved; the rosy light of Long Island in particular, the shadows cast by windswept trees, instantaneous fog and sweet, salt air. I began painting these special places from memory as a portrait of a place, variations on a theme.
