Annette Turow talks about her ideas and the inspiration for her paintings

An artist friend of mine once said, "A painting is about the body. We talk about seeing a painting in the flesh. We talk about the skin of a painting. It has a real presence - and that's its strength."

In creating my paintings, I am acutely aware of the surfaces I develop. I am searching for the balance between the sensuality of the textures and the strength of the forms. I am always engaged in a dialogue with the work because I am searching for the perfect outcome and it occurs after a long process of coaxing with color, materials and shape. I have learned to be patient in this search. The results are uniquely mine; forms that I feel balanced with and surfaces I find endlessly enticing.

My work is always influenced by the collective awareness of my own ideas and the appreciation of other artists such as Marsden Hartley, Arthur Dove, Kandinsky and Gabriel Munter. I respond to some of their paintings as though they knew how I see the world. The allocation of space, the heavy lines, and brillant colors speak directly to my own perceptions. I need to add the elements of the complex surface where the colors almost hide the secrets of what makes them what they are. I want the strength of the composition to come out of the relationship between the inelegant forms and the multilayered skin. The subjects of my paintings change with my life experiences but the process, the search for the satisfying end, is what holds the challenge and the pleasure which propels me to go on.

Seated Nearby

 Vigil Series -2000

"There actually was a vigil. My husband had become so ill that we both feared for his life.

I rushed him to a small clinic near the airport in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico dressed in his coat, hat, gloves and blanket, but he could not sit up or stop shaking. Fortunately, within a relatively short time, the English speaking doctor started the mixture of electrolytes, antibiotic and sedatives. Then we were left alone.

The room was bare except for one curved plastic chair and the bed where my husband slept. I was afraid to leave him alone. It was totally dark and so I sat in that chair at the end of the bed listening to him breathe. After awhile, I wrapped myself in his coat and bent over to put my head on the corner of the bed. When I got too stiff to sit like that, I laid down on the floor, hoping the night would pass soon.

When I thought about the horror of those twelve hours, I was surprised at the calm I felt while laying in the darkness of that room. I was able to sketch the sensations I had of what I can only call protective "auras" of which I was half-conscious during the night.

The forms that resulted seem very familiar to me. They are my beginnings. They are forms I have worked with since childhood and many of my paintings start with them. They probably come from my own inner strength, but that strength comes from strong spiritual faith and close ties to my family. They are visually weighty and strong. They got me through the night. These sensations of protection stayed with me for weeks and got heavier and more substantial as I painted them. I cannot name it all, but I did not feel alone in the vigil."