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 Lacey Stinson  (1951 - )

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Lived/Active: Louisiana      Known for: landscape, mod nude figure, abstract

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Lacey Stinson
An example of work by Lacey Stinson
Artwork images are copyright of the artist or assignee
This biography from the Archives of AskART:
The following is from the artist's website: Lacey Stinson lives in Dubach, Louisiana.

In the earliest years of my life, roundabout the age of threealready having lived undeterred the anguish of a broken legI scribbled, at times as is common to any handed child, but other times according to an intuitive understanding of how to create a visual space on paper which indelibly would tell my story. These drawings, extraordinary, certainly resourceful, formed of freely rendered marks and taut scribbling, produced the sights of my life: my friends, dogs, and swift bicycles in foreshortened exaggeration as the horizontal dimensionality of dogs and bicycles so conveniently lent themselves.

My talent degraded in stages of subsequent decadesrare is it that it should be otherwise with any childbowing to requisite behavioral standards and taught rules for thinking, seeing, and interpreting. From the obscuring distance of time, these are my words.

If the grace of circumstantial fortune keeps us from the greedy hand of mean minds in our youth, this period of time grows golden and forms the foundation for greater works through living in later years. Even still, there is always a price to be paid, and I do not speak of money. The life pursuing a visual art inevitably endures tortureof lost and found directions, of neglect and admiration, of criticism and isolation, with isolation at times by choice, at times the better choice.

With this it is good to honor the accomplishments of individuals who, contrary to monumental odds, have created and captured moments of their living with sufficient hidden foundations and secret evolutions. Such is the wonder of life. In that they have made these visions available to the rest of us we accept them as the "voice of one crying in the wilderness," and we are encouraged to endure, nevertheless. With admiration I lend my deserved words to those upon the road less traveled.

Draftsmanship and a good hand, evident in the beauty of a brush stroke, are the hallmarks of my many years of study. Beyond this I am motivated by what is needed for common living. Limitations to this craft arise inevitably from scarcity of resources, raw materials, the clay with which to fashion paintings. Louisiana, to say the least, is a difficult state in which to ply this trade.
I dreamed one night of a lava flow, ancient and terrifying. In its blackened wake remained scorched trees, tortured land, cinged buildings. How odd, that it would flow beneath and under, in time ancient and empty, with no mind as its master, with no keen eye of understanding, while I perceive it as also above, as though having traced this black mark of discontinuance just yesterday. All comes to an end and is destroyed, nothing stands, even weakly, against it. The breadth of the flow was like that of a road. The road, cinder black and hot, snakes around a spacious brick storehouse of a building where the philosophers of all time have gathered in like mind. Truth endures, all else perishes. It is imperative to conscientiously choose one's measure by which he judges all things, for it is by the same measure he is to be judged.

I am troubled by the fact that we live in a society of escalating consumption. I, like every worthy soul, am only partially aware of my impact on the planet. I am a rising tide upon the face of time which sees before it no firm barrier to my relentless march across the beautiful but frail natural world. All must either bow or break under my weight. That which does not conform is lost. I long to see worthy individuals embrace an ideal, a sustainable ideal, of zero-growth. When the peace of the land is stolen, it is our very souls which are taken from us, one small piece at a time.
I have always pursued an organic realization of the image in painting.

Subtlety, purity, to surpass standards, to become the standard by which truth is thereby measured. The work, in the end, rewards the one connected within and without all time, in the instant, to the roots of his soul from where life streams forth endlessly. Big Bang notwithstanding, it is still possible we have always been here. We inevitably live with every decision we make for a very long time. Our mark is much larger than our own lives.

I live and work in north-central Louisiana, where I and my wife, Debbie, are refabricating a home and studio. It is a very nice place to be. I have earned my MFA out of respect for the modern practice, myopic though it may be. But I have painted--and this the greater of the two--out of respect for the past.

Out and upward I look, with conviction and wondering dream soul... there, in the horizon's cradle,burns the fire of a quiescent star.For one fleeting moment the star is mine; for one vaporous moment its gleam belongs to me.

What will I do with it?

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