When we see paintings that combine image and word, which of the two does the mind perceive first, the meaning of the words, or the immediate impact of color and form? Do we have a choice? What might be argued as simultaneous (all aspects of the picture seen at once), admits of slippage between left and right brain, as the mind zig-zags from one lobe to another, in taking in and contemplating what is there.
Sue Muskat places cartoon animals in sylvan settings on swathes of abstract background paint, then adds a questioning phrase--often repeating the phrase multiple times. As we engage with her variety of content, the pictures become rife with a challenging range of topic and interpretation. And when the line at the top of a work reads, “Take me as I am,” we must ask, who is this speaker? The perplexed duckling floating in a pond? The world as given, with its cat-tails that remind the viewer of perfect hot-dogs? Or the artist herself, whose work stands naked before us? We are being reminded by each element in her tossed salad to remain open, tolerant, questioning, sensitive.
In “Do I Dare?” the question is repeated nine times, the artist insisting on the repetitive nature of doubt while providing the theme for the presence of a small house whose compact size is barely big enough for one inhabitant. What is being asked, exactly, and of whom? What do we want? What does it take to risk a move? Can our mind, body and ambition fit themselves into whatever it is they seem to want? Or does change have a way of reminding us of solitude?
There are no more celebrated words in French than the trio “Liberté Egalité Fraternité. Suffused with revolutionary idealism, these words reverberate in the context of a stream where three ducks float. They may appear unperturbed—at ease in their world—but we viewers know how fragile democratic vistas are. And how vulnerable nature itself is, now. How much communal effort it will require of humankind to keep these ducks swimming safely in a changing world.
The phrase “You Are Loved” is spelled out eight times in degrees of lavender as this phrase’s insistent words descend in orderly fashion from the top of a canvas until they are obscured behind a regal crown at the bottom. Who is this “YOU”? And again, who is the speaker? And why a crown? Will this gorgeous crown find its way to the lovedone’s head? Is to be loved a crowning achievement? In what light might we all feel like royalty? Does the juxtaposition of yellow and blue on the top-knot of the crown provide a subtle connection to the ordeal of Ukraine? When does therapeutic language become political commitment? Can we be anything but anxious, given contemporary uncertainty?
In “high cotton/there is nothing better,” five cartoon-perfect cottontail rabbits, thankful for the good times (midst an array of flowers), are sharing their joy with all. Things may change—and certainly they will—but the artist is reminding us not to miss what is lovely about happiness, when happiness is ours to celebrate. Cartoon animals connect Muskat to a rich tradition of story-telling--to the history of exquisite drawing itself--but they also function as stand-ins for Muskat’s sense of vulnerability.
In “AT TIMES MY MIND WANDERS A LITTLE,” the sitting duck (!) sits calmly on her nest, devoted to the job of bringing forth new life. If the title phrase functions as a thought balloon, then the duck’s admission of having other thoughts is something we all know. The grass is always greener elsewhere, of course; the maternal duty of sitting is faced with the freedom of dreaming. Duty vs. freedom: two contestants forever caught up in the drama of life. Both are not just tolerated, but essential. For an artist, is the imagination’s freedom another word for “generation”? Is brooding a chick the same as creating a work of art?
In the noisy congestion of Muskat’s BEEP BEEP BEEP, and in her PEOPLE, the excitement is in the patterns she discovers to convey the subject. The tour de force of her hand-drawn letter shapes (and her pitch-perfect sense of color), are organized to create space with elegant consistency. Her beeps tame the visual noise with minimalist abstraction, while her PEOPLE floods the world with the diversity of a multi-colored crowd. Order emerges from chaos; pattern is the visual fruit of creative care. In work after work, “Sue Muskat” is that which cares, bodying forth herself in fresh combinations that question how we live now, asking with wit and sincerity the final question, toward what end?
