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Eric G. Thompson, After Tea, Oil on Panel.
Snapshots from our opening for Eric G. Thompson. Thanks to everyone who came!
Perfect imperfection. ‘Eric G. Thompson: New Works‘, opening Friday, August 14 and running through August 28.
Eric G. Thompson’s artwork possesses an elegant serenity that often stops our visitors in their tracks. The allure lies in the way he plays with light, illuminating beautiful details but also revealing hints of entropy and decay. This careful balance between order and chaos is drawn from the Japanese aesthetic of wabi-sabi, a major influence on Thompson’s work. The tradition encourages appreciation of imperfection, age and patina, often referred to as “flawed beauty.”
We love how our artist Eric G. Thompson plays with light! See more of his work here.
In contemporary art: New realist paintings by Eric G. Thompson.
Wyeth's legacy continues. Check out Eric G. Thompson's paintings, which are inspired by the legendary realist.
Eric G. Thompson, Made to Envelop, Oil on Panel.
More of the contemporary realist's work here.
Happy Halloween, art world! This is Eric G. Thompson's 'Nestled'.
For the past week, excited art pilgrims—determined to visit every gallery on Canyon Road—have marched purposefully into our front room and come to a screeching halt. Our Eric G. Thompson show ‘The Boundless Moment‘ is a little different from most of the exhibitions you’ll see on this famous art route.
Accompanying many of Thompson’s serene realist paintings are writings by great American poets, from Elizabeth Bishop to Walt Whitman. The interplay of words and images has compelled viewers to slow down and look twice, sparking many a fascinating observation.
We spoke with Thompson on the phone today to fill him in on the big response his show has received. The artist was in Santa Fe last week for the opening reception, but now he’s back home in Salt Lake City, Utah. The long drive home gave him time to gather some thoughts on the exhibition. Read our interview below, and make sure to come see ‘The Boundless Moment‘ before it closes on August 28!
Describe your studio.
My studio is just a few feet away from my house. It has windows with good natural light, so sometimes I can turn off the light and still get what I need. Sometimes I’ll set up my daughter‘s easel next to mine, and we’ll work next to each other. She gets to see what her dad does. Most of the time the kids aren’t allowed in the studio, though. I’ll play underground folk music, and when I’m really inspired it feels like the music is flowing straight through my brush.
You work in oil, egg tempera and watercolor. How do you choose which medium to use for a new painting?
Between the three of them, if I want to capture something a little more loose and light I go for watercolor. If I want to capture something very solid, heavy and thick I’ll go with oil. If I want to capture something a little more photorealistic, I go with egg tempera. It gives you a lot of freedom to express the story or the emotion that you’re trying to convey with each medium.
It can be refreshing, but it can also be almost maddening. They’re all so different, it’s unbelievable. You have to switch your brain around and remember how to use that medium. It can be completely challenging, which I love. That’s one of the greatest thing about painting, is the challenge. I can always let a painting go as long as I have another challenge.
Alison Oatman’s review in The Alibi begins with, “One question contemporary realist painters often get is, ‘Why not simply take a photograph?'” Over the course of the article, she critiques that particular line of thought. What’s your answer to that question?
To a lot of artists, it’s not a great compliment when a viewer says, “That looks just like a photograph.” Maybe to a photorealist that would be flattering, but I think the greatest artists of all time have that balance of, it looks like a painting but it looks so ‘real.’ I’ve made it come to life.
Why does someone need a painting to look just like a photograph? What’s the power in that? Technically it’s amazing, but where’s the artistic freedom? I need artistic license to change things and blur edges and sharpen edges and change value to make it more ethereal.
I can make a painting look like a photograph but then there’s no energy, there’s no life to it. I think just adding a little more energy with brushstrokes or texture brings it more to life.
One of your influences is the Japanese aesthetic of wabi-sabi. How would you describe it?
It’s what an object has been through, who used it, who touched it. It’s the patina objects acquire over time, like the rust on an oil can. It just adds to the whole character of the object—I see them as little characters. A cup on a windowsill, an oil can or even pumpkins can have little lives of their own.
Your works seem still at first glance, but a longer look gives me a sense of ‘unfolding,’ of motion. Is that one of our goals?
It’s about capturing a moment in time that I’d like to freeze and experience for longer than the experienced moments.
I’ve definitely been experimenting with looser brushstrokes toward the outer edges of the painting to give it some energy. I need to experiment to see if I can get the perfect balance of detail and looseness. It’s a way of pushing myself as an artist, and it’s been one of the hardest things I’ve ever attempted.
Read more of our interview on the Matthews Gallery blog.
One question contemporary realist painters often get is, “Why not simply take a photograph?” Eric G. Thompson, a self-taught artist who lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, answered this familiar assault with brio the other evening at the opening of his show at Matthews Gallery in Santa Fe (669 Canyon Road). He explained that what photographs can’t replicate is the energy contained in a painting. Thompson’s aim—to “capture an emotion in time”—expresses itself in every well-placed brushstroke he applies to the canvas.
Read more from Weekly Alibi.
The art of contemporary realist Eric G. Thompson.
'Coffee Shop Girl', Oil on Panel
'Waiting for a Song', Oil on Panel
'Evening', Oil on Panel
Immersed in art!
More art watching candids here.
Eric and Hilary Thompson’s daughters dash around Matthews Gallery, exploring their father’s new solo exhibition ‘The Boundless Moment.’ They’ve just finished a long car ride from Salt Lake City but they’re bursting with energy.
Over the past year the children have grown alongside these canvases and panels, watching as thousands of brushstrokes transformed into rolling landscapes and rosy skin. Now these familiar images have magically appeared in our lofty, brightly lit space, sparking the girls’ curiosity. They stop before each work, craning their necks to get a good look.
The girls’ vivacity matches Hilary’s temperament, who keeps an eye on them as she chats and laughs with us. Eric is a quieter presence. He strolls around the gallery, analyzing the arrangement of the work and reading the legendary poems we paired with them. Eric likes to think of his paintings as ‘visual haikus,’ which inspired us to select writings by Frost, Dickinson, Lowell and others to display during the show.
‘The Boundless Moment’ is something of a family act. Hilary was Eric’s model for the painting ‘Morning Cup,’ and wrote an accompanying poem that will debut at the opening reception. ‘The Chiseled Mother’ is a passionate meditation on parenthood, the body and time. As Eric cradles one of his daughters in his arms, you can tell that he’s just as inspired by the radiant spirit of his children. Exquisite evidence of his deep love for them hangs on every wall.
Read Hilary’s poem below, and make sure to attend Eric’s artist reception on Friday, August 15 from 5-7 pm.
From Hilary Thompson:
The Chiseled Mother
I honor this body This matryoshka
The delicate lines of my eyes Like tissue paper Crinkled from sun beams Washboards slow the momentum of tears
These ears, these conches That entombed the beeping screaming alarms Echoing endlessly on exhausted drives home Mercifully quieting with age
This mouth Which broadcasts comforts, screeches, praise Fractures the tightrope of vexation
These beautiful, perfect arms That embraced defeat Carried a child to the surgeon’s knife Willing arms That waved, furrowed, aching Sturdy farewells
This heart that beats out The anthem of the womb I Am I Am I Am
A womb That is the definition of Creation Bringing forth what does not exist Into existence Torn out of me With upheaval and sanguine waves of nurture
These knees that caught me When my frame buckled Unable to support my grief
These marks, stretched Yawning tiger stripes Where my body gave room Shimmer as silver reminders of a past shape
These feet Planted. Supporting. Rooted even in motion, substantial Pacing halls, hospital rooms Threshing carpets bare-threaded
I am the red rock slot canyon Worn smooth, fissured, curved Sculpted By this flawed life
This body is a shrine A Holy place, a pilgrimage A masterpiece painted stroke by stroke By the breathtakingly exquisite nourishment Of not getting what I want.
Breathe that in, Chiseled edifice of the Mother, Slather it like salve into your stripes, You silver tiger.
See more of Eric's work here.
No one saw your ghostly imaginary lover stare through the window and tighten the scarf at his throat.
This wistful Robert Lowell poem about lost and found memories pairs perfectly with Eric G. Thompson's 'Winter Blanket'.
Words and images.
Eric G. Thompson's 'Strong Bones' and Emily Dickinson's 'I dwell in Possibility — (466)'
I dwell in Possibility — (466) Emily Dickinson
I dwell in Possibility — A fairer House than Prose — More numerous of Windows — Superior — for Doors —
Of Chambers as the Cedars — Impregnable of eye —And for an everlasting Roof The Gambrels of the Sky —
Of Visitors — the fairest — For Occupation — This —The spreading wide my narrow Hands — To gather Paradise —
See more pairings of paintings and poetry here.
Words and images.
Eric G. Thompson's 'Spring City House' and Robert Frost's 'A Boundless Moment'
A Boundless Moment Robert Frost
He halted in the wind, and — what was that Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost? He stood there bringing March against his thought, And yet too ready to believe the most.
“Oh, that’s the Paradise-in-bloom,” I said; And truly it was fair enough for flowers had we but in us to assume in march Such white luxuriance of May for ours.
We stood a moment so in a strange world, Myself as one his own pretense deceives; And then I said the truth (and we moved on). A young beech clinging to its last year’s leaves.
More painting and poetry pairs here.
