Synthetic Blue St. John 2000

Editor: Neil Welliver's "Synthetic Blue St. John," from 2000, uses acrylic paint to depict a woodland scene. It's funny, the colours feel vivid but something about the geometric abstraction gives a stillness...almost as if the scene is captured behind glass. How do you interpret this work? Curator: Ah, glass... That resonates deeply. Welliver worked *en plein air*, capturing Maine's rugged beauty with what some called almost obsessive fidelity. Yet there's something beyond mere representation, right? It's like he's building a screen, perhaps using memory itself to create this geometric forest. That "synthetic" in the title? Does that feel contradictory or fitting to you? Editor: That's fascinating – the synthetic nature implying construction. I initially saw the vivid hues of water and green contrasting with the dark, bordering on black, vertical tree lines but never quite interpreted those shapes as something that created an entire feeling or screen of stillness... Curator: Exactly! Think of Mondrian's trees slowly dissolving into abstraction... Welliver starts there, smack in the middle of reality and dream. Does that heighten your impression of that electric, synthetic blue now? Almost painfully gorgeous. Editor: Yes! Thinking of it as constructed or intentionally abstracted gives it a new emotional depth. Before, it felt just visually striking but with this consideration it seems like Welliver's playing with what a landscape can really be. Curator: It's a dialogue, isn't it? Between our minds, the raw wildness of Maine, and the brave choices a painter makes on a canvas. What a lovely place to linger for a while, even if it only exists in a "synthetic" form!