Randall Stoltzfus
click to view Stoltzfus' exhibition at LIMN
Artist Statement
When I moved to Brooklyn from Virginia I started making these dark landscape paintings lit in strange ways. At first the paintings were usually of something burning. Now there is often something backlit, or overwhelmed by light. And there is more and more texture. Now the paintings have begun to make light from texture. Brooklyn, with its dark heart, and my memory of the south provide the deep shadows.
These paintings often take several years to complete. I paint many different paintings on each canvas during that time. Some layers are figurative; some are more abstract or obscured. Eventually the layers begin to add up and I see something unexpected. Maybe there is a drawing that lives just in a pattern on the surface. Or two images become present at once, or trade places as the light in the room changes. What I see might startle me, or simply resonate in some way that is difficult to explain.
As the grandson of an Amish deacon and farmer, my personal experience as a contemporary painter living in New York has its own set of layers. With their blinding light and yearning for the soil, these paintings are a personal metaphor for the spirituality that underlies that experience. The resulting work is necessarily a bit unresolved. It is my hope that, like an enigmatic mirror, it will share with the viewer a story that is more a reflection than a dictate.
Artist Statement
When I moved to Brooklyn from Virginia I started making these dark landscape paintings lit in strange ways. At first the paintings were usually of something burning. Now there is often something backlit, or overwhelmed by light. And there is more and more texture. Now the paintings have begun to make light from texture. Brooklyn, with its dark heart, and my memory of the south provide the deep shadows.
These paintings often take several years to complete. I paint many different paintings on each canvas during that time. Some layers are figurative; some are more abstract or obscured. Eventually the layers begin to add up and I see something unexpected. Maybe there is a drawing that lives just in a pattern on the surface. Or two images become present at once, or trade places as the light in the room changes. What I see might startle me, or simply resonate in some way that is difficult to explain.
As the grandson of an Amish deacon and farmer, my personal experience as a contemporary painter living in New York has its own set of layers. With their blinding light and yearning for the soil, these paintings are a personal metaphor for the spirituality that underlies that experience. The resulting work is necessarily a bit unresolved. It is my hope that, like an enigmatic mirror, it will share with the viewer a story that is more a reflection than a dictate.
