When I painted Ivy and Window (1981)—an early work in my Ivy Series, which grew out of my interest in how ivy vines guide emotional transitions through space—I was already drawn to the movement between interiors and exteriors. In this painting, the exterior setting asserts itself more strongly. The tree trunk and the modulated colors of the foreground offer tactile, grounded elements that contrast with the floating ivy leaves. The gaze outward is not a search for anything specific; it is closer to daydreaming, a quiet drift of attention through a window.
The ivy leaves do not command the composition as they might in a traditional still life. What interests me in painting everyday subjects is the subtlety of transitional moments—those in‑between periods when our eyes register fragments, edges, and partial forms. Even when we focus intently on something in our field of vision, these peripheral fragments remain. We often dismiss them as noise, yet they contribute to a more holistic perception that only reveals itself when we slow down and pay attention. Our imaginative energy is always present, even when it becomes redirected by the nervous agitation of our preferred distractions.
Other works in the Ivy Series explore similar perceptual parallels. In Inside/Outside – Outside/Inside, the awareness of exterior space is doubled: the lantern, chair, and broom handle sit plainly in front, while the buildings and figure reflected in the glass represent another exterior layered through reflection. I had used this idea of doubling for impact in Reflections (1983) and Man in Mirror (1983), and later in different ways in Woman in Mirror (2019) and Aspects (2018).
In Ivy and Window, the outward search remains unresolved. The color treatment of the exterior becomes the answer to the visual inquiry. By contrast, Inside/Outside – Outside/Inside arrives at its own conclusion—a sense of emotional void held within the reflective surface.