“Resonance: A Contemporary Response” Beyond the Canvas

When I proposed “Resonance: A Contemporary Response” as the theme for our companion exhibition to the Cape Ann Museum's exhibition of Milton Avery, Mark Rothko, and Adolph Gottlieb, I knew it would present a challenge. As the founder and group leader of the New England Experimental Art Group, I was well aware that many of us, myself included, are not particularly comfortable working within prescribed themes.

Throughout my artistic life, I have preferred to let the work lead me rather than begin with a predetermined concept. My process has always been one of discovery. I enter the studio with curiosity rather than certainty and allow the painting to reveal itself over time.

Yet I have also learned that themes can serve an important purpose. They encourage us to step outside our familiar habits and explore territory we might not otherwise visit. The challenge is finding the balance between responding to an idea and remaining true to one's own voice.

That was certainly my concern as we approached Resonance.

As I reflected on the theme, something unexpected happened.

Rather than focusing on a new painting, I found myself looking back at my own body of work. I began to see connections that I had never consciously considered before. The work is unmistakably my own. The layered surfaces, textures, excavation and rebuilding, intuitive decisions, and emotional landscapes emerge through a process developed over decades. At no point did I set out to paint like Avery, Rothko, or Gottlieb.

And yet, as I looked more closely, I recognized how elements of my work resonate with theirs.

I see Rothko's search for emotional presence through color and atmosphere. I recognize Gottlieb's desire to communicate beyond language through symbols, marks, and gesture. I understand Avery's remarkable ability to distill experience to its essence while preserving its emotional depth.

What strikes me most is realizing that these connections do not come from influence or imitation. They emerge naturally through my own artistic journey.

The realization is both humbling and affirming.

It reminds me that art is a universal language.

Artists separated by generations, geography, culture, and circumstance often arrive at similar questions. We search for authenticity. We seek a visual language that feels honest. We struggle with uncertainty and self-doubt. We pursue moments of clarity that bring us closer to our own truth. We spend years trying to separate our genuine voice from the expectations and distractions that surround us.

The longer I paint, the more I believe that the artistic journey is less about finding answers and more about learning how to listen.

Listening to intuition.

Listening to memory.

Listening to the quiet voice beneath fear and judgment.

That realization was reinforced last night during our monthly Zoom meeting. As the artists reflected on their creative process for Resonance, discussing their inspirations, struggles, uncertainties, and discoveries, it became clear that each artist was approaching the theme from a deeply personal place. Though the experiences and approaches varied widely, a common thread connected us all. Beneath the differences was a shared exploration of meaning, authenticity, memory, emotion, and self-discovery.

Listening to these conversations, I was struck by how united our voices had become through this creative quest. The theme was not leading us toward imitation but toward a deeper understanding of ourselves and of one another. What became evident was that each artist was finding their own way into the conversation while remaining true to their individual voice.

For me, one of the most meaningful aspects of Resonance is the realization that artists are connected not by style but by shared human experience. The paintings may look different, the techniques may vary, and the decades between us may be significant, yet the inner journey remains remarkably similar.

We all seek meaning.

We all seek honesty.

We all seek a way to translate something deeply felt into visual form.

Perhaps that is the true meaning of resonance.

Not an echo of another artist's work, but the recognition that beneath the surface, artists across generations are engaged in the same lifelong pursuit: the desire to understand themselves, remain faithful to their vision, and quiet the mind long enough to hear what the work is asking of them.

As our exhibition approaches, I find myself thinking less about Avery, Rothko, and Gottlieb as historical figures and more about the invisible threads that connect artists across time. What begins as a theme for an exhibition becomes an opportunity for reflection, discovery, and connection.

It reminds me that while our paintings may differ, the impulse to create is remarkably universal.

And perhaps that is the greatest gift of resonance: not finding ourselves in someone else's work, but discovering ourselves more clearly in our own.