For me, there’s a draw towards looking at art from antiquity and re-defining it in the modern landscape.
I took an art history class back in college (I know that I’m already phrasing it as if it were 50 years ago… even though it does feel like that.)
That’s besides the point… anyway, it was one of my favorite classes.
Overall, there’s something that is so fascinating about time and art –– the way art transcends time, yet reflects the period and landscape in which it was created.
There’s a unique wonder in diving into each artist’s brain to try and grasp how they were thinking of their work and what they were drawn to. I suppose there was a romanticized way in which I thought of these things… trying to understand the meanings behind the subject matter, technique and composition choices.
Even more so, just seeing how human beings must create — it being in our DNA — and firmly believing that it is our connection to the divine.
Upon taking this class, I was drawn towards different styles and concepts: one being the concept of Venus.
Who is Venus? Goddess of love and beauty?
”An idealized version of a woman - pure perfection.”
I suppose I was drawn to it based on the fact that I knew this to be untrue. Subjectively of course.
Knowing that we all inherently possess flaws and imperfections.
Even still, the concept encapsulated me.
As the years go on and I continue to develop my own body of work and what I am passionate about… I consistently come back to beauty and perfection. This draw towards something impossible. This want for something that can never happen.
When I begin my compositions… there is always a twist. Always something that is brewing underneath the idea of ‘the perfect composition.’ For example, I can start with a “normal” / “untouched” image, yet end up re-imagining it in a whole different sense. Quite naturally, watching it develop dualistically with opposing elements that contrast one another.
What exactly?
Darkness and light, flowers and smoke, abundance and scarcity, old and young… etc.
For; this seems natural. Duality is so organic and in a sense perfect — two contrasting elements creating wholeness and unity.
“The Birth of Modern Venus” by Halie Torris. oil on canvas 32” x 48”.
One of my favorite paintings of all is Botticelli’s Venus (top image on right.)
I have always wanted to put a spin on it, but never knew exactly how I wanted to do so. I didn’t want it to seem forced and I also didn’t want to take on such an iconic piece. After years of considering it, during the start of quarantine, I finally chose - to start her. I started to paint and create something that was soft and delicate — pristine and polished. There wasn’t much substance to it besides the fact that I was attempting to recreate an iconic piece. Because of this gap in inspiration — I abandoned her.
the state i left her in.
Yep. Gone. Bye. Walked away and never looked back.
In fact, I left her in such a state I considered if I even knew what the heck I was trying to do with it.
Yes, this was the state I left her in. Please forgive me.
Anyways, this painting was a whirlwind.
She twisted and turned, morphing into and out of focus.
At one point, a tree was growing out of her leg.
I’ll include this image as well.
I couldn’t figure out her face.
The scallop shell didn’t seem right.
It didn’t blend.
My ego fed me excuse after excuse until I reached the conclusion that I just had to try. So as I painted, I educated myself.
I listened to videos about Venus in correlation to Aphrodite and depictions of Greek mythology. I got hooked on learning about this mythology and uncovering more and more about Venus/Aphrodite herself.
I learned about Venus de Milo - an ancient Greek sculpture of Venus that was found in an old cavern by a peasant. It was recovered and there was conspiracy over how her arms were ‘removed’ or ‘fell off.’
Today, she is considered one of the most iconic pieces of beauty in the world. This concept of beauty - brokenness - perfect imperfection.
I adore this so much.
the “tree”
In fact, it was the missing piece for me.
This duality of sorts.
I suppose it’s because I’ve experienced it.
I’ve seen this broken beauty in the ones I love most.
The ones that show me their vulnerabilities and break their hearts wide open. Peeling back their own masks and letting their inner light glisten throughout.
They cry, they curse, they get p*ssed off.
They f*ck up.
They are real.
They are pristine.
To me, it was previously lacking.
This representation of Venus had to embody this quality.
Combining two iconic representations of beauty and making them into one — in this landscape.
Masks strewn about, unearthing herself from the depths of the sea.
She is masked abundance.
She glows from the inside.
She is ‘perfect’ in her own sense.
As are we.
If you’d like to hear more about the Greek mythology aspect, feel free to check out my podcast “The Closeted Artist” located anywhere you listen to your podcasts.
size conversion:
imperial ➡️ metric
inches | centimeters
8.5” x 11” | 21.59 x 27.94
11” x 14” | 27.94 x 35.56
12” x 18” | 30.48 x 45.72
16” x 24” | 40.64 x 60.96
18” x 24” | 45.72 x 60.96
30” x 36” | 76.2 x 91.44
for stretching: please select (add 3+ inches for canvases that you would like to stretch) in addition to the canvas print that you’d like
more sizing faq here