Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May in a beguiling, gestural and chromatically complicated suite of blossom paintings by E.J. Hill. They were undertaken during a recent residency that coincided with the interruption of life as we knew it, shaped by both the promise and threat of that life’s return, as well as an imperative reconsideration of the artist’s own priorities. These paintings represent Hill’s quest for peace of mind in the absence of peace in the world—or rather, their making embodies it. 

The paintings themselves are beautiful but not pretty, troubled but not troubling. In the turmoil of their painterly color field foundations—tonalities of firestick, moss and dry grass, stormy lavender, luminous queasy pink, goldenrod and black—lies the physical evidence of the artist’s process of thinking things through with his hands. In the array of field and fancy flowers that inhabit these grounds there is organic charm and uneasy lines, and a certain compelling dissonance between the bright expectations for a floral painting and the reality of persistent melancholy. 

EJ Hill, Garden, 2022. Courtesy Oxy Arts. Photo by Ian Byers-Gamber.

The explosive petals of the tiger orange bloom in Even the clouds are losing sleep (2022, acrylic and neon on wood panel, 60 x 50 ¾ in) and its entourage of puffy white clouds of which one is ringed in a neon halo, is made with darker tones and sharp, jagged lines that are gestural in the way of draftsman’s violence; while in Wherever we will to root (2022, acrylic and neon on wood panel, 61 x 50 ¾ in) the gentle aubergine folds of the velvety lily anchor the picture against the buffeting expressionistic tempest of the lavender sky. The rest of this garden of paintings carries on containing such multitudes; at the center of the room is a white baby grand piano titled Garden, that any who enter may freely play. Where the music should be there are photographs of people; because all of this is a metaphor for us, and how we’re coping.

Among the buzzwords associated with this time is self-care, expressed as the right and duty to treat oneself with kindness and respect, to commit to rest and nourishment of the body and soul. This is undertaken in pursuit of a more joyful life, which ultimately means more fully engaged and effective membership in society. Easier said than done, when everything from anxiety and disease to climate and capitalism works against us. But in that context, Hill’s self-assigned period of avoiding the rigorous durational performance works he’s known for—in favor of a year spent painting nothing but flowers—makes all the sense in the world.
Bradford J. Salamon