Description Eternal lightning traces webs across the sky, shattering the firmament like broken glass, illuminating peaks, impossible and inevitable, in the deep for but an instant before they vanish again beneath dark waves. Oceans yield to plains, boundless as the sea. An occasional hole opens in the rolling terra to reveal fragments of tomorrow's worlds, far below. This is the path where man has yet to climb down from the trees, where the spirits of our ancestors flow with the river and whisper tales of the past to any who dare listen. Where dark horned things crawl from the sea to scratch at the trunks and hunt us for our bones.Some 250 million years ago, Pangaea was the super continent, comprised of nearly all of Earth's lands, surrounded by a vast ocean, before plate tectonics and continental drift gave us the lands and seas as we know them today. What would it be like to set foot on this alien world? To those of you who might correctly point out that rolling plains of grass would be a hundred million years or so late to the party, I claim artistic license.This was a fun piece to work on. I concerned myself more with color than composition and just let the brushstrokes pile up organically. I didn't set out to capture a glimpse of an imagined Pangeae, or even a picture of grass. But I knew what it was as soon as it took shape.
Eric Brown, Sherrill, NY Member Since November 2011 Artist Statement People often tell me that my work depicts the imaginary. I guess what they mean is that I don’t paint the real world – you know, still-lifes, landscapes, portraits. But I don't see it that way. The world is insane. Insane and horrific. And undeniably beautiful.
All of my work deals with this truth. I don’t replicate the mundane because for me, the mundane is the fiction. The fruit in that bowl – it was born in the decaying flesh of a thousand creatures that once clung desperately to life. And even now, the fruit plays host to a horde of maggots, writhing just beneath the surface. To paint it any other way is to tell a lie.
That landscape – it was forged of the cast off detritus of a billion dying stars, forged through mind numbingly complex geological processes that spanned eons. That rock in the foreground, the one casting the pleasing shadow upon the grass, it was once part of a great ridge bisecting the continent of Pangaea, a ridge in whose shadow behemoths prowled some two hundred million years before man took his first clumsy step.
And that portrait – just thirty layers of dead skin encasing an organism created through an imperfect reproductive process resulting in no fewer than sixty unexpected mutations, any of which might result in horrific disfigurement, or abilities that far surpass anything that could be called human. Does the portrait capture the being's fathomless ability for kindness? Or cruelty?