Please join us on Saturday, December 5th for the unveiling of 11 new paintings in my virtual mini solo show, Flicker, at Gallery 1261. In lieu of live music and charcuterie, you have the opportunity to peruse this new body of work from the comfort of your living room, in your pajamas or evening gown (as you choose), glass of wine in hand!
If something strikes your fancy, the gallery (or my studio!) is open by appointment. Please contact Chris or Dave at 303-571-1261 to arrange for viewing.
Beginning on Saturday the 5th, you can visit the gallery’s exhibition page to see work, details, and pricing. You’ll also find a little sneak preview below!
About
Robin Cole’s newest body of work, Flicker, is a meditation on the small, often unnoticed moments of transcendence within our everyday surroundings—the beauty that waits around each corner for our presence and attention. Though her work always deals with nature, Flicker explores a more domestic variety of it, recalling the sense of wildness all around us as the morning sun and early birdsong stream in our windows, or the light gilds the carefully tended crops in our own backyards. 2020, with all its challenges, has offered both an opportunity and a necessity to commune with our surroundings in a new way—to sense the divine within our most familiar haunts. For Cole, the cascading, organic forms of growing things provide this touchstone, while light expands the narrative, offering a sense of the emotional texture that characterizes these moments of connection.
“Sometimes the forces of our world seem to align, and the concentric motion of insects, the unique geometry of the land, or the slow-waning glow of green things at dusk lends a feeling of otherworldliness to something previously familiar,” she says. “These are the times when the veil feels thin, when an omnipresent but unnoticed magic moves beneath the surface of the ordinary.” Each of these vignettes comes from Cole’s garden and home, either past or present: places she’s lived, explored, or cultivated with joy and devotion over the years, and held in memory until they made their way into paint.
Epigraph
Everything Is Waiting for You
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the
conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
