Karen Adrienne

In my monotypes the power of the environment and natural events are usually partially contained, or seen abutting a folded structure. In this work the folded structure of Before the Breach falls away in The Breach. Swells or roiling earth and water fold and crash into each other. The safety of the structure is diminished and the image is overwhelmed by the natural elements. Demise and the feeling of being overtaken is the lingering residual treat in The Breach.

Adrienne, <i>Before the Breach</i>

Karen Adrienne, Before the Breach, monotype on paper, 22 x 30 x 1 in., 2020.

Adrienne, <i>The Breach</i>

Karen Adrienne, The Breach, monotype on paper, 22 x 30 x 1 in., 2020.


Jennifer Steen Booher

I started experimenting with cyanotype last fall, and have been working on a series of contact prints of plastic shopping bags. My ideas are still evolving, but focus around the way these bags—formerly disposable and an environmental disaster—were starting to become a sought-after resource in 2019 when various cities enacted bans on them. My mother uses them to dispose of her cat litter, and she began to actively gather and hoard them, fearful that she wouldn’t have “enough.” 

We have two college-age children and staggered their returns from college as the campuses closed down in April. We did 14 days of self-quarantine when the first kid returned, then fetched the other and quarantined all over again. By the time we finished our 28 days at home, the whole state was essentially in quarantine, and I had moved from plastic bags to surgical masks.

Booher, <i>Mask No.2</i>

Jennifer Steen Booher, Mask No.2, cyanotype, 9 x 12 in., 2020.

Booher, <i>Pair of Masks No.2</i>

Jennifer Steen Booher, Pair of Masks No.2, cyanotype, 11 x 14 in., 2020.

Booher, <i>TY3</i>

Jennifer Steen Booher, TY3, cyanotype, each 11 x 14 in., 2020.

Booher, <i>NakYou</i>

Jennifer Steen Booher, NakYou, cyanotype, each 11 x 14 in., 2020.


Donald Mallow

With time rearranged, physical space limited, and encompassing terrible information almost beyond our control, concentrating and staying focused on drawing is an oasis. A growing number of drawings to date has been the result (Corona Series) since we began to shelter in place.

Mallow, <i>End of Bouquet</i>

Donald Mallow, End of Bouquet, ink, 8 ½ x 11 ½ in., 2020.

Mallow, <i>Inverted Inkwell</i>

Donald Mallow, Inverted Inkwell, ink, 7.13 x 10.63 in., 2020.

Mallow, <i>Inkwells and Dogwood</i>

Donald Mallow, Inkwells and Dogwood, sepia ink, 8 ¾ x 11 ½ in., 2020.

Mallow, <i>Three Shells, Pen and Ink</i>

Donald Mallow, Three Shells, Pen and Ink, sepia ink, 7 x 12 ¼ in., 2020.


Bruce Forbes

Forbes, <i>the vid</i>

Bruce Forbes, the vid, acrylic on paper, 10 x 7 in., 2020.


Wendy Newbold Patterson

The Green Child image began appearing in my work over the winter and spring of 2019–2020. The central purpose of it wasn’t apparent to me until the pandemic arrived. Climate change and the environmental consequences of humankind’s continued destruction of nature beyond its ability to heal itself surfaced as related to the global proliferation of novel viruses. This dreaded consequence had been forecasted by climate scientists, epidemiologists and the Wabanaki and other indigenous peoples’ prophecies.

My work gradually formed itself into a story, a poetic-visual folktale—”The Story of the Green Child.” These three paintings are part of that story.

Wendy Newbold Patterson, <i>The Green Child</i>

Wendy Newbold Patterson, The Green Child, oil on canvas, 20 x 20 in., 2020 (photo: James Allen Walker).

PS WNPatterson 3 Miserere copy

Wendy Newbold Patterson, Miserere, oil on canvas, 18 x 24 in., 2020 (photo:James Allen Walker).

PS WNPatterson 2 BeastandHisHenchmen copy

Wendy Newbold Patterson, Beast and His Henchmen, oil on canvas, 24 x 32 in., 2020 (photo: James Allen Walker).












Image at top: Karen Adrienne, Before the Breach, monotype on paper, 22 x 30 x 1 in., 2020.