Fertile Ground

Jones: Is there significance then in the arrangement of objects?

Stryk: Very much. The visual counterpoint between stillness and activity, dark and light, within the different panels relates to the ideas I’ve just described. In “Birdhouse,” the birds are in the structure of a houseplan, left of which is a very ordered list of species. But the right panel is freer and evocative of wild plant growth.

Jones: Your current work focuses on birds. Why? Is there personal symbolism here?

Stryk: My imagery in the past has included insects, antelope-like creatures, snakes—and only recently, birds. Yet birds were my first passion. At 15 I’d take my binoculars and Peterson Field Guide and walk the countryside trying to identify birds. I recall struggling to identify a little greenish-yellow bird—was it a goldfinch, a warbler, or a vireo? Funny now that it gave me such trouble. And while a name in itself doesn’t mean much, the importance was that learning names was a way of noticing subtle distinctions and developing an intense awareness of other creatures’ existence. From that time on I no longer felt that people were the center of the universe.

And of course there’s more to my bird imagery. Take, for instance, feathers. The spatial possibilities of using feathers as if falling in space, as well as their rhythmic and color variations, have been a real find, both visually and metaphorically. And the egg represents the perfect beginning of life—life which is destined later for the fierce struggle to survive.

Jones: Are your pieces, at any level, self-portraits?

Stryk: Only in the way that all artwork reflects its maker. But I will say this, that I hope my images might work simultaneously as correlatives for our personal experiences of life, as well as perceptions of the natural world. I want the images to remain open enough so the viewer can create new interpretations.

Jones: How do you approach a new piece? Is your work developed intuitively or analytically or both?

Stryk: I begin building up the surface of each wood panel with modeling paste or torn paper, and since this isn’t easily removed, I must have a compositional plan for the painting. When I finish the surface and relief elements, such as the nests, I apply layers of acrylic paint and medium, glazing and scraping to establish a tone and texture. Then come the images. Mentally I’ve visualized the work, but often what ensues is a dialogue between my original intention and what the painting seems to want to be. I’m interested in recording the accidents and erasures in the process. At all stages I must remain open to the unexpected, the surprising.

Jones: Your use of rich texture seems to suggest age, constancy of idea, or the passage to time. How do you see it?

Stryk: The texture is often intended to evoke an aged surface, an artifact or wall. And I like your words referring to both the passage of time and age, because I’m often thinking about how the particular in nature is so ephemeral, while life itself is so enduring.

Jones: One of the most interesting aspects of your work is the juxtaposition of rough textures with refined images. Do you see the two as complementing each other, or is it a study in contrasts?

Stryk: I see them as creating a dynamic visual relationship, which relates to the qualities I observe in the world.

Jones: What other artists have influenced your work?

Stryk: I love the rough surfaces of Etruscan wall paintings, and at the same time I’m attracted to the refined details of Persian miniatures. The Renaissance artist Pisanello’s intensely observed animals have influenced me for their frozen gestures. And I admire early naturalist-painters such as Mark Catesby and Maria-Sibylla Merian. And I might add that on a recent trip to the Netherlands I became quite enamored by Dutch Golden Age painting.

Jones: Tell us about your use of light. Some of the objects in your paintings seem to glow.

Stryk: While painting eggs on a black surface, I started glazing them until part of their edge dissolved and they appeared lit, resembling the Dutch and La Tour paintings I had recently admired. This glowing effect became part of my attempt to create images that had an immediate sensual appeal, ones that might initially draw the viewer in a very visceral way.

Jones: Text is an important component in your work, serving as a constant reminder to the viewer of the human presence in the natural world. How long have your been using text, and why?

Stryk: In the late 80’s I realized the possibilities of text from looking at my own sketchbooks—in them the drawn images are surrounded by my notes, dates, measurements, and lists. I liked the way the writing represented my compulsive need to interpret experience with language, so I began to use it in my paintings. I’m interested in how words and numbers both draw us closer to the thing examined and distance us from it. And the writing itself has different moods, ranging from ordered hieroglyphics to subconscious scribbles.

Jones: What about the genetic symbols that appear in so much of your work?

Stryk: I consider DNA the myth of our time—myth in the sense of an explanation of reality. It’s a very contemporary discovery, yet of course it’s as ancient as life itself. I’m in awe of the variations of life. Even within an individual organism…take one feather. Look at the placement of spots—in line with other feathers the spots create a stripe on the wing. No other feather is like it on the bird, all because of a minute chemical blueprint.

Jones: You have said that your paintings are about how we as humans perceive nature, not a description of nature itself. Why do you think this distinction is important?

Stryk: As Heisenberg said, “What we observe is not nature itself, but nature exposed to our method of questioning.” We always see nature through the screen of our own perceptions.

Jones: Do you consider yourself an activist artist?

Stryk: I’d love to believe that art could help solve ecological problems, but that’s debatable. Yet it can fulfill the reason I perceive for being here on earth. And simply stated, it’s to bear witness. Or, in other words, to pay attention. You know, the human mind is such an incredible product of evolution—imagine a creature who tries to understand other creatures just for the sake of doing so? One can find other animals who can do everything better than we can—jump, swim, fly—but our species can reflect on the whole array of life and make meaning for it… and make art of it. So I explore that unique human potential.