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Joyce has been an artist all her life, exploring with various media from charcoal, acrylics and watercolor, to wax and dye, to metal cutting with a scroll saw. Over the last dozen years, she has focused on plein air landscape in oil. She studied with Brigitte Curt, Jim Smythe, Camille Przewodek and Ovannes Berberian. Her study with Berberian over the last couple of years taught the extraordinary value and the joy of painting still lifes. That work hones drawing skills and explores a much greater range of color than is demanded by landscape work. It teaches the subtleties of composition development and trains away from local color in order to create light. These lessons, applied to landscape painting, result in a much richer palette. Most recently, she has moved her focus into her studio where she explores form and light and shadow, often creating pieces much larger than are possible en plein air. Yet she always returns to the outdoors where cool light from the blue of the sky plays against the warm reflected light of earth elements, developing a rich, sophisticated awareness of color and an attention to the immediacy of the moment.
Joyce has painted in the south of France, in Wyoming, Idaho, along the New England and mid-Atlantic coast, and extensively in California. Her work is in private collections in Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, Boston, Keene, N.H., Providence, Ft. Lauderdale, Denver, Carmel, the San Francisco Bay area and Los Angeles. She has shown her work at the Pacifica Center for the Arts, at the Center for Visual Arts for the San Jose Art League, at the Tait Museum in Los Gatos, at the Triton Museum in Santa Clara, at St. Michael’s Alley in Palo Alto, the Davenport Roadhouse, Davenport, at the Marin Art Festival, through Silicon Valley Open Studios and at her own elegant studio/gallery.
DOSSIER
REPRESENTATION
Gallerie Amsterdam, Carmel, CA
CURRENT SHOWS
St. Michael’s Alley, Palo Alto, CA
The Davenport Roadhouse, Davenport, CA |
when I see something I want to paint, I want to get inside it, to capture it.
to take it in, to own it.
to put it on this small piece of canvas,
to hold it, so that I never lose it.
my eyes see with memory, with feeling.
I can feel that sycamore leaning in the wind, its leaves shimmering and whipping.
I know the deep cold bottomless mass of sea, the molten weight of it.
my eyes skim its surface, skating past the crests of waves
racing away along that path of silver light.
I feel the warmth of sun, the cushion of dry grasses brushed like combed hair
I imagine the life within it and am jealous of the warm, filtered light.
II fly up and out, away to that fringe of light around that dense and distant cloud.
and beyond to the clear blue space behind
where there are no boundaries.
I belong to the land,
above all, that low and shallow, ancient eastern land
where land and sea exchange, stealing from each other.
I wonder at it. I marvel at it.
I paint because I love these things.
the paint becomes a tool, an ally, a maker of light.
when I am in — in anywhere — and I look out, I want to be out.
I cannot get enough of the light.
I want to take it in and store it, like a battery.
if I could take a deep enough breath, I could pull it all inside me and hold it
and never exhale.
to take it in, to own it
the molten weight, the filtered light
where there are no boundaries
and never exhale
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