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Mellow Richness on the Clustered Trees

Lauren Brumbach


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Mellow Richness on the Clustered Trees

Part of my 2022 Fall Smalls Collection The title of this piece comes directly from the poem, “Autumn” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Long adored, Longfellow’s illustrative narratives captivate and transfix. In the poem “Autumn” he beautifully captures in words, the colors, mood and spirit of this season; at the end, reminding us to pay attention and listen to the voice of the leaves. They have such eloquent things to teach us. It’s been said that to Longfellow, Fall means change and wisdom, an end and a beginning. Though Longfellow has a knack for pointing out the melancholy in situations, he can break our hearts in the most wonderful way, I love the way he illustrates fall. He appreciates it, he loves it, he tries to learn from it. His line, “it’s mellow richness on the clustered trees.” Refers to the “beautiful spirit breathing” which is Autumn. *This small annual collection pushed by abstract practice in a new direction. Abstract expressions are visual representations of intangible things. Feelings, impressions, fleeting moments, ideas. By floating gold leaf between layers of resin, like insects preserved in amber, these pieces are forever preserving desperate and precious expressions.

6"H × 6"W × 1.5"D
Mixed Media
Gallery Wrapped
Oil paint with gold leaf and epoxy resin


My work seeks to create safe places driven by love and grace. Split between representational work and abstract pieces, my paintings unpack relationships between humanness and our living natural world. My paintings are visual expressions of a poem, a song or a prayer — the colorful manifestation of still moments. Where I grew up has a particularly rich impact on the subject matter of my representational paintings. The lifestyle in my hometown is slower, the landscape seems to set still both time and people. In a day and age that feels like we are rushing through our days and forgetting to be present, I want to remind us of a place where "rush" doesn't exist - there is only the fields, the farm, and the creeks. My entire painting practice is about paying attention to small still moments. When I'm painting, i'm listening. How are the colors interacting? what are these soft whispers saying and why?

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