sara gagan

As I approach a new painting, I often consider how one’s understanding of reality might be clouded by perceptions or limited by expectations. Whereas a dog might see one of my paintings for what it is—an assemblage of paint, paper, and chemicals, all with distinct odors, stuck to a piece of wood—we humans might be quick to identify a chicken, a hare, or a woodchuck. Obviously we know we’re not seeing a “real” chicken, hare, or woodchuck, yet whose immediate perceptions are more accurate? 

At first glance, my paintings appear to be fairly realistic portrayals of random wild and domestic animals. Upon closer examination, however, elements having little to do with the “reality” of those animals (or their usual habitats), become apparent. The Jersey cow image, for example, is made up of many non-Jersey cow elements; the Icelandic ponies sport some rather non-ponylike patterns and parts. 

On another level, the real-life, flesh-and-blood animals these paintings represent are likewise comprised of elements not unique to themselves, or even their species. We (animals) are all made of 100 percent recycled, reconfigured, ever changing matter. Here, where words and understanding begin to soften, I continue through my art to explore possibilities, and invite others to take a closer look.