A few weeks ago, I was sitting in the early spring light, reading Mark Stevens’ and Annalyn Swan’s book on de Kooning, a legendary abstract artist known for his “action painting”, famous in the ‘50s and ‘60s alongside artists like Jackson Pollock, Lee Krasner, Franz Klein, and others.
A certain passage got my full highlight. I’ll share just a bit of it here:
“Inspired by Gorky, however, de Kooning was edging closer and closer to the day when he would finally ‘declare’ himself as a full-time artist. ‘The decision to take was: Was it worth it to put all my eggs in one basket, that kind of basket of art,’ he told the critic David Sylvester many years later… Little by little, however, de Kooning was styling himself, in his own mind at least, as a full-time artist rather than a Sunday painter.”
It was not too long ago that I, too, was “styling myself” as a full-time painter; telling myself and encouraging others around me to declare: “I am an artist.”
And though de Kooning was in his 30’s when he made the career transition and I am… not, I can confidently say I’ve put all my eggs in one basket—that “basket of art”—and I’ve never been happier.
Days after reading that passage, I picked up my brushes and a picture of a bird's nest at our Adirondack cabin that I’d done a few studies of and really enjoyed, and I painted.
I painted all the eggs in my basket, and suddenly this painting was about much more than declaring myself an artist; it was about identifying my flock.
The four eggs placed in my basket represent the now four young grandkids who call me Cici, signifying my gratitude for getting to experience baby Otto’s first days at home while playing with his big brother, Nico, and for the days of play and visits I get with Henry and Lottie. These are my peeps.
And though I may have “put all my eggs in one basket” when I took my painting full time, I can say now that my flock has gotten even bigger, with my nests expanding even beyond my growing family.
This past weekend, I participated in a group show at Sonnenberg Gardens, as an artist and a demonstrator. The group I showcased with is a flock of plein air painters I paint with all summer; a group of like-minded people creating a far greater impact than what I can do solo.
In just a few weeks, I’ll gather in what is likely the largest flock of plein air painters at PACE, on the faculty as a field painter. I am excited to see my mentor, Lori Putnam, who will be presenting, and to teach, to learn, and to grow amongst other painters of all ages, backgrounds, and skill levels.
Finally, I see flocks of people growing and gathering as protests get larger and larger around the country… and I think, that’s my flock, too.
Because those protests are not separate from what I do with a brush. de Kooning and his generation, in fact, made their most vital work both during and on the other side of upheaval, responding to a world that felt uncertain and alive at the same time. That flocking of artists wasn’t accidental.
Art has always flourished when the stakes feel the highest, because art is one of the most beautiful, honest responses to turmoil, uncertainty, and even fear, providing an escape from the world while also publicly insisting on change within it.
It’s eerily relevant now, and it makes me value my flocks even more.
Because maybe that's what flocks are really for: Not just the comfort of like-minded company, but the courage gained from its presence—the permission to keep making things when the world feels loud and unresolved.
So I’ll leave you with this encouragement, friends: Find your flock. And shine brightly. The world needs you.