December 2020: Rebecca Gembarowski

Dance was the art form that I had my first formal training in, however, I have always made things. As a young adult I studied ceramics and continued to be focused on dance. In my late twenties, I entered college with the intention of exploring and learning about painting and sculpture. After struggling for two and a half years, I realized I felt disconnected from the process, and returned to dance in my remaining time there. Interestingly, my study of visual art changed my experience of dance as I began to view dance through an external lens instead of solely as the medium for someone else’s choreography. I began to see the stage as a huge moving canvas with sets, lights, costumes, and dancers becoming my palette and medium.

It wasn’t until several years later, in a sequencing workshop with Lydia Thompson, that I reconnected with my curiosity about and love for painting. I found River Gallery School’s philosophy and approach to making in tune with my own process, and soon enrolled in an encaustic class. Two years ago, I found a studio space where I can make and leave a mess, and work for a few uninterrupted hours a week. In that sanctuary of a space, I have been working in oil and cold wax, and encaustic.

The “Lifelines #1-#4” paintings I started at the beginning of the covid19 lockdown. I was inspired by the idea that even though we were isolated from one another, we were still finding ways to stay connected. I painted these on one large sheet of paper, taped off into four separate sections but allowing mark making and lines to cross over. It was after an online workshop with Lisa Pressman, (another surprising outcome of the pandemic, I don’t think I would have had the courage to take an in-person class with her), that I cut the sections apart and went back into them, finishing them one at a time.

The other six pieces were started during that workshop as well. Lisa’s approach felt very intuitive to me and inspired/reminded me to be curious about what was emerging as the painting developed. Her mantra as we were beginning was “You are not making a painting yet; you are building a surface.” It freed me from planning and allowed intuitive application of paint and medium to the surface over several days. Eventually, something would start to emerge that I was inclined to follow. Like the “Lifelines” series, these paintings are also informed by life during these strange times. During the process of painting, I am aware of feelings of stress, fear, and worry, but as I continue to add layers, something else begins to emerge as well; my sense of hope, my feeling of connection to others, and my immense gratitude. As difficult as this time has been, gratitude is the feeling I experience most often. Sometimes it is only for a moment, but I am awed that it appears in some way every day, and leaves no space for taking anything for granted.