Paintings that have something new to say...

  

Sometimes I look at old paintings in my racks, and it feels like they're asking for the next chapter. The old story is done, and something new is needed. 

 This first painting was based on an old RCA Transmitting station in Point Reyes, at the end of a long avenue of cypress trees. I loved the house and the landscape, but it felt lonely. It felt like it was time for a party...

 

 

 

 

This painting was inspired by a building at Fort Point with long rows of doors. Back in 2023, I wanted to communicate the courage to look into the darkness, but three years later I'm more interested in looking for hope.

 

 

 

I loved the people in Dinner Party, Yellow Sky, but 7 years later I thought I could make the sky more dramatic.

 

 

This woman had been knocking for 5 years. It was time to open the door!

 I painted this wedding scene after a friend's wedding, but recently I decided that I want to broaden the scope, lengthen the table, and invite everyone in.

Trefoil Arch was inspired by the arch in Central Park, but the dark tunnel felt threatening. Here again, I want more hope these days.

 

And Point Lobos also needed more light and a different traveler.

 

In looking at Marc Chagal's paintings, I often see dates of his work that span years or even decades. I understand that now. The work keeps speaking and growing, reflecting the artist's journey. 

 

Advent Liturgical Art, 2025

For Advent, 2026, I worked with Kay Wolff and many wonderful people at First Presbyterian Church of Berkeley to create a liturgical installation. 

 

 

The theme was Christ's family tree, and we invited congregants to create book boxes that represented their stories as part of the vast family tree we are a part of.

 

We involved children and adults in the installation, using collage, assemblage, and paint in craft faux books to tell about their journeys. Then we suspended them from manzanita branches. We added old hardcover books, painted with the names of Christ's ancestors,  and suspended them with fishing line so it looked like they were flying.

Many thanks to everyone who contributed! 

The experience deepened my love of this community during these troubling times.

 

My Mentors

I have installed my show entitled My Mentors at my church in the Bay Area. It consists of 28 portraits of my students, each one 12"x12". 18 of them include statements that they wrote about themselves and are shown with their permission. I feel that their words really deepen the work and help to show their humanity.

My Mentors will be up until February 15, 2026. If you would like to see the show, or if you would like to exhibit the paintings, contact me at carol.aust.art@gmail.com.

These people have deeply impacted my life. I have learned so much from them about resilience and hope.

 

Painting my Neighbors

This entry is a continuation of the previous one. 

In short, I am teaching English to some of my neighbors, and they have very kindly allowed me to paint their portraits. In doing so, I'm trying to reflect their kindness and sweet directness and optimism. Take a look and let me know what you think. 

 

Portraits of Hope

 Before I was an exhibiting and selling artist, before I was an Artist, I was a teacher. I started with teaching first grade, which lasted two years, and then moved on to English as a Second Language, which I did for 5+ years.

So it was natural, when I heard of a need for English teachers in East Oakland, for me to sign my name on a clipboard and be standing in front of a classroom two weeks later. The room was vast and dimly lit and stiflingly hot, but the 25 students sitting before me stole my heart in an instant. Mostly young adults from Guatemala, they are learning the basics--pronouns, "to be" verbs, and what to say if a masked officer comes to their door. There's another class in the basement that's getting its instruction from a Spanish speaking teacher, and two classes above mine that are more advanced. Perhaps 50% of our students are very new to this country, and they feel safer attending classes in their neighborhood, rather than attending public adult school classes.The teachers and a dozen or so aides are all volunteers, mostly from my church. We gather two nights a week, and at 8:00 we take a break and eat sandwiches and tamales while their kids run around the playground.

It was also natural that their faces would start appearing in my paintings. I'm creating a series of small 12"x12" portraits in which I try to capture their sincerity and humanity. 

  

 So far I've made 25 portraits, but I'm nowhere near losing interest. I am so inspired by their hopefulness and optimism, and teaching and painting them has lifted me from despair in these troubled times. I am so grateful to them. They are my teachers.

I hope to exhibit these portraits in churches and public spaces. If you have any ideas on where I might show these, please, let me know. 

Art Postcards at a Retreat

I have sets of art postcards that I sell in sets of 50 and are used in all sorts of ways.

My friend, Jane, sent me these photos and wrote, 

I spoke at the Wayne Pres Women's Retreat this weekend (on Transitions) and we used your art cards.

The team purchased 100 cards and framed 50 and placed them all around the Chapel for the 50 women in attendance.

The frames were double sided, so many women chose two pieces.

Your art opened the women to understand, share and articulate what was stirring in them in astonishing ways.

I wished you could have seen the emotion, connection, epiphanies...

Lenten Installation

 For Lent this year I proposed an installation at my church, First Presbyterian Church of Berkeley, of Christ embracing a cluster of self portraits. In these stressful days, I wanted an installation to remind us that we are safe and loved. I worked with children and adults who painted themselves or someone they loved on small inexpensive canvases. I prepped the canvases with a common head size of 10" and a purple background that was consistent with Jesus' robe which worked to unify the portraits. 

To install these portraits against a wall that couldn't have nails, we lay the canvases face down, laid a raw unstretched canvas on top, stapled through both, and then hung the large canvas from above.

I learned a lot from doing it, especially that it's risky to paint Jesus! I was a little intimidated about painting Christ, so I copied a portrait that Rembrandt had done of a man in the Jewish ghetto of Amsterdam. 

The portrait of Christ struck a nerve for a congregant, who explained to me, "I go into many churches that are full of white Jesuses, but they don't bother me because I know my church doesn't do that. So when I saw the Jesus here, I couldn't stop crying." So I climbed a 10' ladder and darkened his skin, but it was still problematic. The person explained that Jesus's posture, hovering from above, felt dominating, and this person was from a tradition that didn't have any images of Christ in the sanctuary.  It was a delicate situation, so just in case other people were also having issues with the installation, we had a question and answer time after a service.

I love working on paintings in the privacy of my studio, telling myself that no one will see the finished work except myself, tricking myself to paint honestly. Doing this installation challenged me to dialogue and compromise at times, but I felt like I learned so much and felt a deeper bond with the member who struggled with the piece initially. And I love seeing congregants interact with the piece after the church services.

On Easter Sunday I added a dove.