{"id":42482,"date":"2019-02-12T22:32:52","date_gmt":"2019-02-13T04:32:52","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/?p=42482"},"modified":"2019-03-04T19:22:18","modified_gmt":"2019-03-05T01:22:18","slug":"susan-makov-getting-lost-in-a-forest-of-dreams","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/susan-makov-getting-lost-in-a-forest-of-dreams\/","title":{"rendered":"Susan Makov: Getting Lost in a Forest of Dreams"},"content":{"rendered":"

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Susan Makov was hiking the Uintas in 2015 when the surrounding stands of lodgepole pine suddenly mesmerized her, a moment that eventually would translate into the work she is creating today. \u201cThe trees were distressed and I became obsessed with it,\u201d she says as we pull into the downtown library\u2019s underground parking, in preparation for seeing Field Notes, <\/em>her exhibition up through the end of February.<\/h4>\n

Four of her paintings startle in their boldness and seemingly stark simplicity as we emerge from the elevator onto the fourth floor: the impact is visceral and provides something of the same overwhelming impression the artist must have had on encountering these behemoth trees in the wilderness.<\/h4>\n
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\u201cThe Tree That Hums Like Bees,\u201d 60\u201d x 48\u201d, 2018, oil on canvas<\/p><\/div>\n

Up close, on the right, just past the librarian\u2019s desk, what appear to be hundreds of twigs and slender branches sprout from the rich bark of two trees\u2019 contrasting trunks, going in all directions (\u201cThe Lodgepole Pines In My Forest of Dreams,\u201d 36\u201d x 36\u201d, 2018, oil on canvas), while another lusty, bronze and leafy tree on the far left has tall and skinny imitators swaying away into the forest. Titled \u201cShadow Factory,\u201d it is painted loosely, more so than all but one other work here \u2014 the last two pieces Makov completed, she tells me. Hanging inside the gallery\u00a0is “Dancing In the Twilight Green,” the other painterly piece that exudes more a sense of mystery and depth than diligent attention to detail. It\u2019s a nice switch from other works in the exhibition and, given the looser, more confident, \u00a0brushstrokes, is likely the best piece in it. It\u2019s not, however, the largest or most pleasing. That may be \u201cThe Tree That Hums Like Bees,\u201d which took Makov five months to finish and comes complete with crazy multidirectional branches and a nuthatch, the only bird in the show and a charming fellow it is, too. This tree was found in Liberty Park in the fall after the leaves had gone, says the artist. \u201cSomebody\u2019s wallet was at the base of it,\u201d Makov recollects. \u201cThere was something kind of touching about that.\u201d<\/h4>\n

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“Twizzlers and Butterscotch”<\/p><\/div>\n

Also inside the library gallery are four canyon pieces, with \u201cGumdrops for Breakfast,\u201d being a personal favorite. It\u2019s painted, along with its companions, in bright, saturated, \u201cexaggerated colors of what\u2019s normally there,\u201d the artist explains. It is a little bit Fauvist leaning and, though not as committed to those hues as \u201cIt\u2019s Not Easy Being Blue,\u201d that introduces this wall of works, still extremely fanciful in its depiction of a famed area of the Southwest. There are colors even in the shadows, while storm clouds brew over some seven or eight layers of rock beginning at the base of the mountainous ravine. It hangs next to \u201cTwizzlers and Butterscotch,” of Capitol Reef Drive: the usually staid Makov explains that her good friend, Salt Lake City artist Judith Wolbach,<\/strong> told her to have fun with the titles for this show \u2013 and so she did.<\/h4>\n

Hanging across from Makov\u2019s works, in one of the best pairings of exhibitions ever at the Library, are conceptual works created from natural elements by Lisa Anderson, from a couple of large wall hangings to intimate pieces made from leaves and pinecones and mulberry fiber. The two shows work together enchantingly. Makov says she and Anderson met during the summer and hit it off, but didn\u2019t see each other again until the opening.<\/h4>\n
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\u201cDancing In the Twilight Green,\u201d 36\u201d x 48\u201d, 2018, oil on canvas<\/p><\/div>\n

As we drive from the library to her nearby home, Makov explains that she paints entirely in oil following a few unhappy experiments in acrylic. She doesn\u2019t like the resulting colors or the texture and is waiting for an air cleaner she ordered from a family she trusts in Illinois to arrive to begin working in oil again. In fact, she says with a smile, she has a piece she started in acrylic she can\u2019t wait to paint over.<\/h4>\n

Makov has a lot of her own art hanging in her fascinating house, including bulto \u2014 traditionally carved figures of saints. Makov decided to make her own \u201cnonreligious\/maybe religious figures \u2014 \u2018The Lady of the Birds,\u2019 \u2018Our Lady of the Ladders,\u2019\u201d and others. All are women. The walls and ledges of her home also hold pictures of her parents and their artwork, a Huichol Indian yarn painting, former Utahn Gaylen Hansen\u2019s paintings (now 100, he resides in Seattle where she goes to visit him), a work by Wolbach, a cat hand puppet from Germany.<\/h4>\n