![\"\"](\"http:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/02\/standing.jpeg\")
<\/a>“Standing in the Shadow,” mixed media, 32″ x 60″<\/p><\/div>\n
In Matt Flint\u2019s paintings, creatures \u2014owls, wolves, bears, horses, swans \u2014 emerge from the gloaming, the twilight thicket.<\/h4>\nGloam,<\/em> meaning the making or growing of twilight or dark, now called \u201can archaic Scottish verb,\u201d was drawn from Old English glom,<\/em> for \u201ctwilight,\u201d and glowar,<\/em> which meant \u201cglow.\u201d There were, of course, early American Luminist painters\u2014 Church, Bierstadt, and Cole \u2014 who began the gloaming habit: appearing suddenly in the smooth, glossy murk of their landscape paintings were paths of light, the sun seeming to choose what to light and make golden and transcendent in the painting.<\/h4>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/02\/whilesunshiningthrough-350x436.jpg\")
<\/a>“While the Sun is Shining Through,” mixed media, 60″ x 48″<\/p><\/div>\n
Matt Flint, now a college art teacher in Wyoming, began as an illustrator, and the illustrational, storytelling sense is lurking, still strong, in these mainly oil and acrylic paintings on thick wood panels. As you look at \u201cWhile the Sun is Shining Through\u201d\u00a0 your ears feel hungry, so strong is your story sense. You want giant operatic music to accompany this outstanding painting in the group \u2014 how could there be no music as you watch the huge sunlit pale swan in a dark glade gathering up its wings to fly? Sun, not moon, is in its title, Flint points out, because, though many might interpret this as a moonlight scene, with its background of deep violet blues, the swan is actually lit by the sun, which seems to have found only the swan to light brightly, turning it luminous. Illustration instincts again: illuminating and spotlighting is also what writers, illustrators, and moviemakers do.<\/h4>\nIn most of Flint\u2019s close-ups (\u201creally almost portraits,\u201d Flint says of these paintings), bears, wolves, horses, and owls pause, looking at us through what often appears to be whitened sleet, a waterfall of milky water. Heavy-eyed wolves in \u201cStanding in the Shadow\u201d and \u201cIntent\u201d and \u201cAbsorb the Sound\u201d are as if behind a ghostly wood-grain pattern. (Note: Flint, in his biography on his website, says he hated seeing areas of land around where he lived as a child, in Missouri, being subsumed one by one by building sites). Is the whitish sleet in front of them in the paintings to protect us from being too close to them? Or to protect them from us? (Another note: Flint says he has been able to be unusually near wolves: There\u2019s a wildlife sanctuary\/rescue not far from where he lives in Wyoming.)<\/h4>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/02\/comingoutofhibernation-350x529.jpg\")
<\/a>“Coming out of Hibernation,” mixed media, 72″ x 48″<\/p><\/div>\n
Shadowy vast gray and black and white bears are similarly screened from us, in sleetish drizzle, in \u201cI am the Mountain\u201d and \u201cComing out of Hibernation.\u201d But, like a chef with a low boredom threshold, Flint adds, as an underlay or as a convolution on top of the acrylic and oil paints, enamels, gold or silver leaf, marble dust, liquefied wax, Japanese ink, a solution pressed from walnuts \u2014inventing as he goes, each painting different in its ingredients, \u201cmixed media\u201d a hilarious understatement. (The artist\u2019s wife, Angie Flint, is a chef of some renown in Wyoming, operating Lander Bakery.)<\/h4>\nSilver and gold leaf are in or atop some of these paintings, most liberally appearing in one of a very large black and white and gray wolf (\u201cStanding in the Shadow\u201d). \u201cI like the idea,\u201d says Flint, \u201cof using something used in paintings considered sacred in the Renaissance for religious figures. Instead, I\u2019m using it while painting wildlife. And using as much as I want to, instead of the way they did, very sparingly.\u201d<\/h4>\nIn \u201cNorthern Sky,\u201d where a row of swans fly, Flint has added the inflections of spatters, dots, impasto and vertical and horizontal striations, even jagged rapid pencil scratches, suggesting the whirlwind uplift and power of birds.<\/h4>\nIn \u201cSo Much is Happening All Around,\u201d we see one lone white horse from behind. The horse\u2019s more distant head merges bluish into blueness of the mostly blue painting\u2019s background. It reminds us that our backgrounds and habitat, in our human lives, are both mooring and<\/em> dissolving us, too; we\u2019re all only part of a play.<\/h4>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/02\/toliveinthecolors-350x441.jpeg\")
<\/a>“To Live in the Colors,” mixed media, 60″ x 48″<\/p><\/div>\n
Portions of another white horse in \u201cTo Live in the Colors\u201d almost dissolve into blue background. Perhaps Flint is pointing out that the domesticated horse has passed through the magic veil of the wild, is in some exile, like us.<\/h4>\nAre Flint\u2019s other paintings, wild and untamable wolves, owls, swans and bears, brought closer forward, very large, for a special reason?<\/h4>\nMany of the animals\u2019 eyes look out urgently from the paintings, under their various layers and surface treatments\/shields. We look closely at their eyes in paintings, just as we look closely at humans\u2019 eyes in paintings. For in paintings, humans and animals are alike. Neither can speak. In paintings we are all mute.<\/h4>\nIt\u2019s sometimes said the greatest quality an actor can have in movies is an unusual blankness of eye-expression. That almost erased quality, it\u2019s said, makes the viewer eager to fill in that blankness with his or her own imaginings, the actor an avatar for you to transfer your feelings to. In \u201cSomewhere in the Sky,\u201d one large serenely wind-gliding owl is portraitized by Flint: the gray flat milky simple blankness of its round lusterless eye-orbs invite you somehow to imagine what this owl might be thinking of as it peers at you. Again, the feeling of a character, the lure of story.<\/h4>\n
<\/a>“While the Sun is Shining Through,” mixed media, 60″ x 48″<\/p><\/div>\n
Matt Flint, now a college art teacher in Wyoming, began as an illustrator, and the illustrational, storytelling sense is lurking, still strong, in these mainly oil and acrylic paintings on thick wood panels. As you look at \u201cWhile the Sun is Shining Through\u201d\u00a0 your ears feel hungry, so strong is your story sense. You want giant operatic music to accompany this outstanding painting in the group \u2014 how could there be no music as you watch the huge sunlit pale swan in a dark glade gathering up its wings to fly? Sun, not moon, is in its title, Flint points out, because, though many might interpret this as a moonlight scene, with its background of deep violet blues, the swan is actually lit by the sun, which seems to have found only the swan to light brightly, turning it luminous. Illustration instincts again: illuminating and spotlighting is also what writers, illustrators, and moviemakers do.<\/h4>\nIn most of Flint\u2019s close-ups (\u201creally almost portraits,\u201d Flint says of these paintings), bears, wolves, horses, and owls pause, looking at us through what often appears to be whitened sleet, a waterfall of milky water. Heavy-eyed wolves in \u201cStanding in the Shadow\u201d and \u201cIntent\u201d and \u201cAbsorb the Sound\u201d are as if behind a ghostly wood-grain pattern. (Note: Flint, in his biography on his website, says he hated seeing areas of land around where he lived as a child, in Missouri, being subsumed one by one by building sites). Is the whitish sleet in front of them in the paintings to protect us from being too close to them? Or to protect them from us? (Another note: Flint says he has been able to be unusually near wolves: There\u2019s a wildlife sanctuary\/rescue not far from where he lives in Wyoming.)<\/h4>\n<\/a>“Coming out of Hibernation,” mixed media, 72″ x 48″<\/p><\/div>\n
Shadowy vast gray and black and white bears are similarly screened from us, in sleetish drizzle, in \u201cI am the Mountain\u201d and \u201cComing out of Hibernation.\u201d But, like a chef with a low boredom threshold, Flint adds, as an underlay or as a convolution on top of the acrylic and oil paints, enamels, gold or silver leaf, marble dust, liquefied wax, Japanese ink, a solution pressed from walnuts \u2014inventing as he goes, each painting different in its ingredients, \u201cmixed media\u201d a hilarious understatement. (The artist\u2019s wife, Angie Flint, is a chef of some renown in Wyoming, operating Lander Bakery.)<\/h4>\nSilver and gold leaf are in or atop some of these paintings, most liberally appearing in one of a very large black and white and gray wolf (\u201cStanding in the Shadow\u201d). \u201cI like the idea,\u201d says Flint, \u201cof using something used in paintings considered sacred in the Renaissance for religious figures. Instead, I\u2019m using it while painting wildlife. And using as much as I want to, instead of the way they did, very sparingly.\u201d<\/h4>\nIn \u201cNorthern Sky,\u201d where a row of swans fly, Flint has added the inflections of spatters, dots, impasto and vertical and horizontal striations, even jagged rapid pencil scratches, suggesting the whirlwind uplift and power of birds.<\/h4>\nIn \u201cSo Much is Happening All Around,\u201d we see one lone white horse from behind. The horse\u2019s more distant head merges bluish into blueness of the mostly blue painting\u2019s background. It reminds us that our backgrounds and habitat, in our human lives, are both mooring and<\/em> dissolving us, too; we\u2019re all only part of a play.<\/h4>\n<\/a>“To Live in the Colors,” mixed media, 60″ x 48″<\/p><\/div>\n
Portions of another white horse in \u201cTo Live in the Colors\u201d almost dissolve into blue background. Perhaps Flint is pointing out that the domesticated horse has passed through the magic veil of the wild, is in some exile, like us.<\/h4>\nAre Flint\u2019s other paintings, wild and untamable wolves, owls, swans and bears, brought closer forward, very large, for a special reason?<\/h4>\nMany of the animals\u2019 eyes look out urgently from the paintings, under their various layers and surface treatments\/shields. We look closely at their eyes in paintings, just as we look closely at humans\u2019 eyes in paintings. For in paintings, humans and animals are alike. Neither can speak. In paintings we are all mute.<\/h4>\nIt\u2019s sometimes said the greatest quality an actor can have in movies is an unusual blankness of eye-expression. That almost erased quality, it\u2019s said, makes the viewer eager to fill in that blankness with his or her own imaginings, the actor an avatar for you to transfer your feelings to. In \u201cSomewhere in the Sky,\u201d one large serenely wind-gliding owl is portraitized by Flint: the gray flat milky simple blankness of its round lusterless eye-orbs invite you somehow to imagine what this owl might be thinking of as it peers at you. Again, the feeling of a character, the lure of story.<\/h4>\n
<\/a>“Coming out of Hibernation,” mixed media, 72″ x 48″<\/p><\/div>\n
Shadowy vast gray and black and white bears are similarly screened from us, in sleetish drizzle, in \u201cI am the Mountain\u201d and \u201cComing out of Hibernation.\u201d But, like a chef with a low boredom threshold, Flint adds, as an underlay or as a convolution on top of the acrylic and oil paints, enamels, gold or silver leaf, marble dust, liquefied wax, Japanese ink, a solution pressed from walnuts \u2014inventing as he goes, each painting different in its ingredients, \u201cmixed media\u201d a hilarious understatement. (The artist\u2019s wife, Angie Flint, is a chef of some renown in Wyoming, operating Lander Bakery.)<\/h4>\nSilver and gold leaf are in or atop some of these paintings, most liberally appearing in one of a very large black and white and gray wolf (\u201cStanding in the Shadow\u201d). \u201cI like the idea,\u201d says Flint, \u201cof using something used in paintings considered sacred in the Renaissance for religious figures. Instead, I\u2019m using it while painting wildlife. And using as much as I want to, instead of the way they did, very sparingly.\u201d<\/h4>\nIn \u201cNorthern Sky,\u201d where a row of swans fly, Flint has added the inflections of spatters, dots, impasto and vertical and horizontal striations, even jagged rapid pencil scratches, suggesting the whirlwind uplift and power of birds.<\/h4>\nIn \u201cSo Much is Happening All Around,\u201d we see one lone white horse from behind. The horse\u2019s more distant head merges bluish into blueness of the mostly blue painting\u2019s background. It reminds us that our backgrounds and habitat, in our human lives, are both mooring and<\/em> dissolving us, too; we\u2019re all only part of a play.<\/h4>\n<\/a>“To Live in the Colors,” mixed media, 60″ x 48″<\/p><\/div>\n
Portions of another white horse in \u201cTo Live in the Colors\u201d almost dissolve into blue background. Perhaps Flint is pointing out that the domesticated horse has passed through the magic veil of the wild, is in some exile, like us.<\/h4>\nAre Flint\u2019s other paintings, wild and untamable wolves, owls, swans and bears, brought closer forward, very large, for a special reason?<\/h4>\nMany of the animals\u2019 eyes look out urgently from the paintings, under their various layers and surface treatments\/shields. We look closely at their eyes in paintings, just as we look closely at humans\u2019 eyes in paintings. For in paintings, humans and animals are alike. Neither can speak. In paintings we are all mute.<\/h4>\nIt\u2019s sometimes said the greatest quality an actor can have in movies is an unusual blankness of eye-expression. That almost erased quality, it\u2019s said, makes the viewer eager to fill in that blankness with his or her own imaginings, the actor an avatar for you to transfer your feelings to. In \u201cSomewhere in the Sky,\u201d one large serenely wind-gliding owl is portraitized by Flint: the gray flat milky simple blankness of its round lusterless eye-orbs invite you somehow to imagine what this owl might be thinking of as it peers at you. Again, the feeling of a character, the lure of story.<\/h4>\n
In \u201cNorthern Sky,\u201d where a row of swans fly, Flint has added the inflections of spatters, dots, impasto and vertical and horizontal striations, even jagged rapid pencil scratches, suggesting the whirlwind uplift and power of birds.<\/h4>\nIn \u201cSo Much is Happening All Around,\u201d we see one lone white horse from behind. The horse\u2019s more distant head merges bluish into blueness of the mostly blue painting\u2019s background. It reminds us that our backgrounds and habitat, in our human lives, are both mooring and<\/em> dissolving us, too; we\u2019re all only part of a play.<\/h4>\n<\/a>“To Live in the Colors,” mixed media, 60″ x 48″<\/p><\/div>\n
Portions of another white horse in \u201cTo Live in the Colors\u201d almost dissolve into blue background. Perhaps Flint is pointing out that the domesticated horse has passed through the magic veil of the wild, is in some exile, like us.<\/h4>\nAre Flint\u2019s other paintings, wild and untamable wolves, owls, swans and bears, brought closer forward, very large, for a special reason?<\/h4>\nMany of the animals\u2019 eyes look out urgently from the paintings, under their various layers and surface treatments\/shields. We look closely at their eyes in paintings, just as we look closely at humans\u2019 eyes in paintings. For in paintings, humans and animals are alike. Neither can speak. In paintings we are all mute.<\/h4>\nIt\u2019s sometimes said the greatest quality an actor can have in movies is an unusual blankness of eye-expression. That almost erased quality, it\u2019s said, makes the viewer eager to fill in that blankness with his or her own imaginings, the actor an avatar for you to transfer your feelings to. In \u201cSomewhere in the Sky,\u201d one large serenely wind-gliding owl is portraitized by Flint: the gray flat milky simple blankness of its round lusterless eye-orbs invite you somehow to imagine what this owl might be thinking of as it peers at you. Again, the feeling of a character, the lure of story.<\/h4>\n
<\/a>“To Live in the Colors,” mixed media, 60″ x 48″<\/p><\/div>\n