12x12 Silver Frame. Gold Leaf/ Silver Leaf/ Acrylic/ Glitter/ Resin
There isn’t any sound I love like a brass band and drum section at a football game. In fall, in the midwest. In my mid-twenties I worked at a restaurant, this was when you could still smoke in buildings. There was a jazz trio every night in the bar, and to this day jazz and cigars to me, sound and smell like making money.
The restaurant was on Hubbard Street in River North in Chicago. For years I worked steps from Andys Jazz Club - one of the best and most respected in the city - but I was busy being in my twenties and trying to drown out the culture all around me - let alone appreciate or understand it. I love a lot of different music but jazz has to be my favorite. The smooth richness of it is like a hug from a home far from anywhere I was conscious when I lived. It feels like the most perfect, old leather chair or the way everything in view glitters concisely in a well-lit mirror.
Years later I brought my husband to meet Downtown Chicago at night for the first time. We went to Andy’s. It was probably my favorite date we’ve ever had. I was finally just in the right place at the right time doing the right thing with the right person. The symphony jazz felt like my life - my real life. With all of its contrast and sparkle, movement, darkness, light, and surprises. To me, no piece of jazz is ever the same, but it’s never different either. This painting is a portrait of that language - the language of movement with very few words.