Dartmouth, MA
Details
- Dimensions
- 96ʺW × 1.5ʺD × 80ʺH
- Frame Type
- Unframed
- Art Subjects
- Abstract
- Artist
- Stephen Remick
- Period
- 2020s
- Country of Origin
- United States
- Item Type
- New
- Materials
- Acrylic Paint
- Condition
- Mint Condition, No Imperfections
- Color
- Blue
- Condition Notes
- This large painting is on three separate panels. It will be shipped with the three panels stacked on each other … moreThis large painting is on three separate panels. It will be shipped with the three panels stacked on each other with protective layering in between. I can deliver the painting within a 4 hour distance from me for a nominal fee less than the standard white glove shipping cost. less
- Description
-
I'm re-visiting a style I painted in 20 years ago. Large scale and transparent layers of paint helping to invoke …
more
I'm re-visiting a style I painted in 20 years ago. Large scale and transparent layers of paint helping to invoke deep thought and self-reflection.
This is inspired by a pair of Robert Frost poems, Come In and Nothing Gold Can Stay.
This is painted on 3 hollow-core wood panels (see photo). Each measuring 80" high by 32" wide for a complete size of 80" high by 96" wide. It hangs by a simple cleat system. The edges are painted, as shown in supporting photos. I can deliver the painting within a 4 hour distance from me for a nominal fee less than the standard white glove shipping cost.
About the artist: Stephen Remick was born and raised in Vermont. He earned a BFA in Painting from Swain School of Design, a small art school in Massachusetts. He resides in a coastal New England town with his wife, Anne Carrozza Remick, who is also an artist on Chairish. Steve's paintings are in private collections all over the U.S. and abroad.
Frost's poems...
Nothing gold can stay
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Come In
As I came to the edge of the woods,
Thrush music — hark!
Now if it was dusk outside,
Inside it was dark.
Too dark in the woods for a bird
By sleight of wing
To better its perch for the night,
Though it still could sing.
The last of the light of the sun
That had died in the west
Still lived for one song more
In a thrush's breast.
Far in the pillared dark
Thrush music went —
Almost like a call to come in
To the dark and lament.
But no, I was out for stars;
I would not come in.
I meant not even if asked;
And I hadn't been. less
Dartmouth, MA
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