This is a sparkling celebration of spring and all its elements of simple beauty. Reminiscent of river sailing in antique days, this is a painting that provokes the senses as one moves from the lazy river to walk through marshy grass and spring wild flowers. Once you have surveyed the obvious, pick a point on which to focus and allow you consciousness to have the pleasure of creating an extended vista of what is beyond the picture.
Imagine sitting on an elevated patio overlooking rolling hills of lavender in the South of France. Allow it to rush upon you as the aroma takes you into tranquil relaxation. Follow the walkway down the hill and up to the village on a hill. Perhaps there will be a small café with fresh baked pastry. From this new perspective, look back from the village at where you have been. Once you have exercised your mind in connecting all the parts of a composition put together this way, expanded imagination is really possible. “ Ancient Blessings” Oil on Canvas, 28” x 22” In Tuscany there are many ancient buildings and splendid gardens that remind us of the multi-dimensional nature of our cultural heritage. We can see beauty in nature along with the passing of time. In this composition we are taken first into an upward assent through the rock stair casing and then given the opportunity of seeing from the top, only what our imagination can complete.
In this painting we have a similar combination of elements as in “Ancient Blessings,” stretching not only through space but also time. There are nostalgic remnants of a fallen mansion and an antique garden, but then passing through the weathered archways of an old reality is a sunlit realm of uncharted possibility.
This is a compilation of many sensory opportunities, including an expanded view beyond the picture plane out to a new sea of uncharted possibility. The sunlight gives its own perspective through shadows, and winding shorelines offer an exercise to the mind to fill in with other perceptions along the way.
This painting is a composite of more than spatial perspectives. There are several reality combinations around a common theme. The vines in the foreground of this painting are from my own vineyard in Paradise, Texas. However, the total sentience of the vine and viticulture could only be expressed with vineyards from around the world (four to be exact) which make up the rest of the painting. The way they are put together in a coherent reality, with the sky and earth converging over the hills is a launching point into spaces even beyond.
This is not just a pictorial view. It is the view outside the artist’s studio window in Sedona, where she has lived for years, carefully observing every shrub and meeting many of the rabbits living under them. Herds of javalina seek shelter here in the winter snows, and deer graze peacefully in the summer when cactus offers its rich fruit. Red-tailed hawks circle overhead and even an occasional bald eagle flies in for winter seasoning. Though it seems a desert, it is teeming with life.
Of the many seasons of beauty on these hills, the one chosen to commemorate most aptly describes high desert life–the summer monsoons. This is a time in July and August, when the heat of summer is canceled by sudden rains that usually come in the middle of the day. They drench the ground for about an hour and then move off, leaving the most wonderful refreshing aromas of sage, pine, and cedar, with clouds that form patchwork patterns across the sky, setting the stage for spectacular sunsets. The desert is a paradox, and this season most perfectly captures that quality when life is renewed at the height of its challenge to survive.
This painting explores multi-dimensional perspectives in an intimate setting. This is a real place in the Fort Worth Botanical Garden where Glenda spent many hours writing the original script for her best-selling book, “Love Without End.” This was a place of visual, spiritual, and thought-filled immersion. The bench was the center point of the rich panorama within this garden setting. The trees created a dynamic arbor to frame the flowers and pathway, as they filtered the ambient light around her.
This is the most impressionistic of all my recent paintings, not only in style and color, but also in motivation. I wanted to explore the richness of life and color through an even larger expanse of sensory stimulation. Through my use of multiple perspectives I developed order that transcends chaos, and yet brings every impression vividly into focus.
For information on availability of original paintings please contact one of our representatives.
Additionally, there are two 100-issue signed and numbered editions of Iris Giclee. One edition is the same size as the original painting, and the other somewhat smaller. For specific information on original paintings and Giclee editions please call our main office at 1-888-453-6324.
[*An Iris Giclee is the state of the art replication of paintings, which are created by the artist, issued one at a time, and are virtually indistinguishable from the original. They can be created on rag paper or fine art canvas using vivid inks that are demonstrated to be stable for two hundred years or longer. In the case of these paintings, only canvas giclees are available, because the image needs to be free from any reflections of glass, which would be necessary in the protection of paper.]
The Art of Glenda Green
by Chandra Gilbert
Most of the sixties were academic years for Glenda. These would include four years at Texas Christian University earning a BFA in painting, three years at Tulane University earning an MA in art history, followed by three more years working as an instructor at Tulane and a Curator of the collections at Newcomb College and the Kimball Museum.
She entered college far ahead of the curve on basic ability. Classes in life drawing, composition, color, and media usage were a snap. Straight A’s and Honor Roll placement were earned with little effort, although one critical element of success was not so easily achieved. That was finding her place within the genre of contemporary art. For lack of this, her professors often showed great concern and not infrequent criticism.
The college years presented Glenda’s first real challenge in crossing the threshold between being exceptionally talented and establishing her place within her generation of contemporary art. There were many confrontations with her professors about clinging to what they called ‘provincial values’ and the standards of style she was now expected to embrace. Her approach to growth was to study the work of contemporary painters she admired, with whom she held some common qualities. She focused on Andrew Wyeth, Edward Hopper, and Georgia O’Keefe, because of the way their detailed realism was not so much descriptive as providing compositional focus of broad and simple planes through which the eye was strategically directed by light, shadow, and color.
As she studied their work, she also found a rich supply of subject matter from her home town that would support her own version of their style: antique buildings, southwestern imagery, and character-rich faces of common folk. The architecture perfectly supported the “Hopper-like” part of her new compositions. Ghosts from the past and simple resolute store fronts offered many dimensions of perception and reality to coordinate. What began as studies, however, became unique expressions of subjective discovery. There was an almost surreal aspect to the way she would allow buildings to merge with the landscape behind, or the way she detailed faces against stark backgrounds, or architectural designs that were hauntingly empty. She was already exploring how to create an evocative presentation of subjective intensity through the lens of objective reality. To achieve this she used detailed realism, broad planes of composition, and unexpected shifts of space and perspective. Most of all she was drawn to light and color. She knew that light and color were more than sensory perception. Within that mystical medium was a language unto itself.
She was so fascinated with the exploration of light and color that she took two of her honor’s electives in optics and quantum physics. What she discovered was nothing less than a new quantum color wheel that explained why simple and obvious harmonies of color could never capture the dynamics of light. She knew there had to be logic to the way color behaved, and yet the variations she found would satisfy the richest subjective appetite. It would be ten more years, involving collaboration with two advanced scientists, before her theory would be complete. When she did, it would provide a major key to how color shaped our perception of space and other landmarks of consciousness.
Glenda was a very advanced thinker, but not much interested in avant garde art.
“Under extreme pressure to join the contemporary movement I made token gestures toward abstract expressionism, and actually received more praise than expected. Perhaps it was my strong expressions of color and light that brought forth the accolades. However, I never had enough motivation to pursue that direction as a career. Acceptance of that was a major force behind why I switched into Art History for graduate school. My plan was to wait out the current trend while I studied great art from the past, pursued my research in color, and cultivated my own art privately. This was facilitated by an extremely generous Kress Foundation Fellowship to Tulane University. “
One irony of her frustration with avant garde pressure is that she was invited to submit a painting for regional, and then national intercollegiate painting competition in 1966, naturally competing with the most accomplished students from around the country in nothing other than contemporary trends. She won first place with her very Hopperesque version of a back street in Weatherford called “Tornado Warning.” After her painting traveled around the country for a year to various universities, it returned to the TCU permanent collection from which it was soon lost or stolen. No pictures remain other than one Polaroid photograph that does not do justice to the centerpiece of detailed realism in the stop sign and the clustering of grass and rocks beneath it.
The following are examples of work in the TCU and Tulane years:
Glenda’s grasp of human anatomy was not only accurate as to detail, but intensely expressing of life and movement. These freshman drawings foreshadow her later excellence in portraiture and figurative painting.
“Landmark” oil on canvas 1964
Antique architecture in Glenda’s home town offered a perfect transition between her familiar ground and the contemporary world she was entering. The works of Edward Hopper would greatly influence her evolution of style in this period. That influence can be seen in the empty ghost-like streets and the dark and haunting emptiness behind the windows and doors. Yet the charm and delightfully tactile realism is typical of Glenda’s interpretation. Her use of color points for compositional emphasis is very typical for this period.
“Prairie Sky” oil on canvas 1964
As she pursued this style Glenda found ample room for developing geometrical and planar compositions that were integral to contemporary art in the sixties.
“Prairie House” oil on canvas 1964
Prairie House is not so much a house or place as it is an Interweaving of two-dimensional and three-dimensional planes to create an almost surreal transformation of reality. In this painting Glenda has succeeded in developing an abstract basis for realistic composition.
“The Old Mill,” oil on canvas 1965
In her painting of “The Old Mill” we see the same kind of intermingling of ground color and brown-baked buildings, of gleaming sky and the rolling brightness of a quonset hut. One space becomes the other, delineated only by high-line wires and service poles.
The Seventies were transformative for Glenda. She would soar from fledgling artist to having a painting shown in the Metropolitan Museum, to being collected by the Smithsonian Institution and the Museum of the City of New York. As a portraitist she would be given referrals by Thomas Hoving, Director of the Metropolitan Museum, and favorable comments by Clement Greenburg, preeminent critic of the New York Times. She would paint numerous celebrities, and be exhibited by several galleries in New York City. One of her solo exhibits would be visited by Georgia O’Keefe who would remark that Glenda was one of the most promising artists of her generation.
The Seventies were launched by Glenda’s joining the faculty of Tulane University and uniting in marriage with her first husband, Victor Koshkin-Youritzin. Victor brought the extra dimensions of New York high society and Russian aristocracy. Their wedding was announced in the society section of the New York Times, and their invitation list included members of the highest social registry.
This union was both elite and urbane, but most importantly Victor, as a graduate of Columbia and NYU, brought influential connections from the art world. Their relationship was much like that of Alfred Stieglitz and Georgia O’Keefe, although Victor was an art historian rather than a photographer. He was the first to recognize the world-class potential of this Texas-born prodigy. He had the astute ability to help her grow, and provided the level of discernment that would facilitate her development. Glenda and Victor spent most of their ten-year marriage in New Orleans and Norman Oklahoma in university teaching.
During this time, she would sign all her paintings as Glenda Youritzin. She is also listed in numerous national registries as such. Victor continues to be one of her greatest admirers. He wrote the text of her Retrospective Exhibition Catalog in 1998, which is reprinted in full in the section of this website dedicated to “The Nineties.”
An exceptional ability that emerged while in college, which was summarily dismissed because it offended the current trends being cultivated, was that of portraiture. Her understanding of human anatomy, depth of perception into human character and psychology, and meticulous realism made an extraordinary combination of power and sensitivity. Those who teach art most often see only that which they can teach, while those who know art can see what is really there.
Therefore, as Glenda’s audience changed so did her confidence and accomplishment. In 1970 she met Dr. Paul Peck, her first friendship with an internationally acclaimed artist. He was astounded with her portraiture, giving her both instruction and encouragement as she had never received before. She would spend the next five years primarily engaged in this genre on a rocket ride to success and renown in her own right. Her third major portrait was of Senator Allen J. Ellender, President pro-tempore of the United States Senate.
Here, Glenda is painting her multiple perspective portrait of Victor as he watched the OU-Texas football game in 1972. This larger than life painting was completed in less than three days and is considered one of her most creative portraits.
In 1974, in search of more interpretive applications for her talent, Glenda began to explore the newly emerging images of contemporary women. After two decades of evolving their liberty, influence, status, and visible presence in politics, film, and fashion women had transformed their iconic and traditional roles into something new and not yet fully defined. Glenda would contribute to that definition by exploring the confident inner core of feminine psyche that had always been strong regardless of the roles they played or the liberty available. She addressed the warm, tender, and unconquerable side of femininity, conveying both mastery and mystique into her subjects. This venue of expression was well received by urban collectors, galleries, and critics, receiving as much respect and press coverage as her portraits in this era.
Her paintings of the seventies were simple, direct, poignant, and glamorous. By the early eighties, her interpretation of women would become both softer and more elaborate, with infusions of an elegant and romantic style characteristic of Glenda’s own post Victorian roots.
The turn of this decade was launched with a rise into New York gallery invitations and a contract with the leading producer of fine art posters, Bruce McGaw Graphics. Her poster, “The Flight of Spring” would be one of the bestselling posters world-wide for most of 1980, and that success among others would lead to a firm contract with Bruce McGaw Editions for establishing a print studio on New York City where Glenda would turn out a number of small editions of hand-pulled lithographs. Significant promotion was devoted to her work with full-page color ads in Art News, Art in America, and American Artist, as well as unscheduled appearances in photo spreads of Better Homes and Gardens and even a major movie.
As chance would have it, the financial recession of 1982 brought a dramatic change. It deeply affected the north-eastern demographics to which her work was being promoted and collected, which resulted in a redirection for Glenda from New York back to Texas, Oklahoma, and the mid-west. There, her reputation had been firmly established for ten years and her collectors had not suffered so badly in the market. This more pastoral and traditional part of the country inspired Glenda with more romantic, reflective qualities that were natural to her personal style.
For the remaining eight years of this decade Glenda would never be short of commissions, exhibitions, and press coverage, even gaining text-book status. One of the most important of her exhibitions was a retrospective of the preceding 18 year. A retrospective exhibit is a very coveted benchmark in an artist’s career, for it indicates not only significant interest in current work, but the whole of their oeuvre. (See video below) Also thanks is given to lenders who at great expense shared their collection of Glenda’s paintings, considering that most pieces in this collection were either in public museums or private collections.
Creatively speaking, Glenda would use these years for integration and assimilation of all the skills and dimensions of style she had developed in the seventies, and even sixties.
Landscape would reappear, if only as a background to figurative work. Her figures would transcend the iconic images of her seventy’s women to become real women painted with all the style and depth of her portraits a decade ago. This of course, required that all of their accessories, backgrounds, and meaningful objects the completed the compositions were also more richly painted. In several instances she even took up the genre of still-life to explore the minute and silent language of objects that can poetically parody a human instigator no longer present.
All of these explorations, rich developments, and integrations, combined with a more traditional turn of her life would produce some deeply sensitive and elegant paintings in the eighties. As a perfect complement to this trend she spent the last five years of this decade on her vineyard in Paradise, Texas.
Artists of the nineteenth century taught us the essential characteristic of Romanticism is highly saturated perception, sensitivity, and meaning, whether expressed through literature, painting, philosophy, or music. By that definition, this was Glenda’s romantic period. It would also be her last period to limit her artistry only on the two-dimensional surfaces of paper and canvas.
The nineties could best be described as a great refraction of light for Glenda. Indeed, this decade was initiated by fire. On Christmas Eve, just before the turn of the decade, her home was engulfed in a fire that destroyed the whole of her household property and also a number of major paintings from her personal collection. This devastating turn of events significantly reduced her material prosperity, but ironically expanded her conscious wealth both in height and depth. In this decade she would express herself and reach for answers in ways that classical painting could never have fully satisfied.
Her first order of business, in order to replenish her collection and keep galleries supplied, was to master a new and quicker medium than the old master style of oil on canvas. Of course, it was also necessary to maintain compatibility with the style of her public recognition. She chose a mixed media combination of water-color, colored pencil, and chalk. This way she could achieve both the softness and crispness characteristic of her oil paintings. Within the first two years of the nineties, her work was a softer and more detailed version of her successful eighties style.
These were light-filled years, focused more on the field of consciousness from which our visions come than on material surfaces reflecting perceptual stimulation. If there was one common denominator for this period, it would be that.
In 1992 an extraordinary connection with Higher Consciousness would result in a consummate creation that would utilize, summarize and epitomize all of her previous ability. This was her visionary painting of Jesus Christ entitled “The Lamb and The Lion.” This is now one of the most celebrated and internationally recognized portraits of Christ.
This did not come, however, without a price on Glenda’s career as a painter. The next decade would be heavily involved in sharing with the world the nature of her visionary experience, along with the spiritual, intellectual, and philosophical discourses of that connection. Before ten years would pass, she would have two internationally best-selling books in eight languages filled with inspirations from this event. She would reinstate her former skill in teaching, and expand further into the art of writing and public speaking.
Glenda would continue to paint in this period, with many lovely and inspired works. However, most of her paintings at this time were more illustrative of her explorations into spirituality and consciousness than instigations of visual originality. Once the new millennium rolled into place her explorations of consciousness would have masterful consequences for the creation of a new vision of landscape—indeed, of how we create and integrate all perceptions of space! For now, she was expanding her dialog with life.
While a new slant on life was percolating, Glenda’s solid esteem and reputation with collectors and critics remained strong. In 1998 she would be awarded a second sixteen-year retrospective exhibit, this time at the Mabee-Gerrer Museum of Art. In the twenty-eight page catalog published to celebrate this event, there were such quotes as the following from imminent scholars, critics, and art directors:
Accolades and reviews from her 1998 Retrospective Exhibit.
“Glenda is good.”—Clement Greenberg, Art Critic
“Her color theories are fascinating and the paintings are very accomplished and impressive works.” — Natalie Spassky, Associate Curator of American Paintings and Sculpture, The Metropolitan Museum of Art
“We pay you a compliment with these wonderful portraits.” — J. L. Cleveringa, Assistant Keeper, Department of Paintings, Rijksmuseum
“I greatly admire the proficiency of [Green’s] portraits.” — Sir John Pope-Hennessy, Director, Victoria & Albert Museum
“You have an outstanding ability to capture the outward appearance and the inner spirit. …” — Franklin W. Robinson, Director, Williams College Museum of Art
Stylistically, the nineties would unfold in four stages:
Transition from the Eighties…
“The Lamb and The Lion”…
Illumined explorations and visions…
Transition back to nature…
View: The 90’s Art Gallery
From The Art of Glenda Green
By Chandra Gilbert
In 1945, just before the Boomers began arriving, Glenda was born in the antique, gentrified town of Weatherford, Texas. Here, spires of Victorian home still shaped the horizon. Wealthy ranchers, who had been too dignified to live in a close downwind of their cattle lots, had established this well-crafted town in the nineteenth century. It was not only styled with Victorian grace, but the quality of life and human care was right out of a Norman Rockwell calendar. All children were supported with interest by the whole community and no child with talent was spared attention for its cultivation.
At the age of three, Glenda had completed her first oil painting, and from that moment on would draw a flood of attention for developing what was now in evidence.
While perhaps not masterpieces, her childhood paintings before the age of twelve are truly remarkable for the clarity of vision, dexterity, color vitality, and composition for one so young. Already there is revelation and confirmation of those same attributes which, later in life, will result in her highest quality and accomplishment. From the beginning her gifts for art were authentically present.
By her early teens, the qualities through which Glenda would excel were imminently present. Over six decades there have been various levels of success and numerous redefinitions of how she wished to express her art, and yet it all would rest on the same foundation:
1. A bold and certain compositional arrangement that transfigured external reality into her own perception of it.
2. Color that seems to speak a language of its own, driving the senses into greater consciousness.
3. Light that scintillates across surfaces while penetrating them to create a radiant translucence.
4. An inner vision that reduced outer reality to merely an envelope for greater meaning. Herein her visionary and philosophical nature was already showing its presence. In a letter to me she expresses this emerging quality perfectly, showing also her dedication to the exploration of consciousness from the very beginning.
According to the artist, “I owe the deepest gratitude to my mother who saw in my crayon work as a toddler something more than mere scribbles. I had a fascination between connecting the reality “outside” myself with the reality “inside” myself and then making a picture to show others what I saw and felt. Everyone praised my adeptness of expression and my precocious verbal ability, both of which were well beyond my years. One of my earliest passions was for reading, and of course, coloring in my Golden Books. By the time I was three, I was reading at a first grade level, and embellishing all those wonderful stories dramatically. By my fourth birthday, I had learned a very big word from my older brother who was in college. It was ‘philosophy.’
I asked my mother what that meant. She gave me a brief uncomplicated answer, “Philosophers tell us how we know what we know. Philosophy is what they teach us.” My reply was, “That’s what I will do.” And so it was, from the very beginning the art of vision and that of consciousness would be indelibly united for me.”
From the time Glenda entered first grade until she graduated elementary school no reasonable expense was spared to cultivate her prodigious gift. Glenda’s oldest surviving painting was of her cat, Ching, which was painted from life around the age of nine. That and a few other childhood paintings can be seen on the ‘childhood gallery page.’ These include more life portrayals of her favorite horses and a rather impressive still life. In addition to advancing technical ability, there is a marked element of imagination pointing toward more poetic interpretations of subjects.
According to her further recollections: “I never choose to paint from photographs, although some of my childhood teachers (local talent) found them to be an expedient way of teaching technique on landscapes and other subjects that could not be brought into the studio. Every Tuesday afternoon and Saturday morning I spent in the studio of either Mrs. Stanley or Mrs. Brown enjoying my favorite activity and developing more skills for applying it. The emphasis was not on creativity in those years, but I gained technical confidence and instinctive use of oil paint. What I can thank those teachers for is a love of the medium and such dexterity of paint and brush that it all became an extension of my hand and self. This allowed me to envision and create without struggle as I progressed from being a childhood painter to becoming an artist. Looking back, I would compare this preparation to many years of muscular training before the dance.
“At age twelve I was enrolled in the “Art Center School” at the Fort Worth Art Museum, and the dance would begin. Here for the first time, I came into contact with mainstream professional artists, including two of my future professors at TCU who made their extra hours available to young artists. At this point, technique became reprioritized to favor visual expression and aesthetic sensitivity. The technique I had already developed found its higher complement in these new elevations of artistic perception. It was here that I first learned formal composition, intuitive brushwork, and an appreciation for negative shapes. In artistic parlance, those are the shapes created by spaces between “things” or delineated by empty spaces so as to take on potent compositional value. The total ‘gestalt’ of any painting or drawing includes both that which is shown as well as that which is only implied: what is tangibly revealed and what is only suggested by expressive marks or empty space. Making this leap of consciousness is what I most needed at this time, to rise above mere skill in representation, and to pursue art more expressively and cognitively.”
Her best works from this period were drawings rather than paintings. In these quicker and more spontaneous works, she found liberation from the laborious renditions on which she was trained as a child. At last she could enjoy a leap of consciousness reaching for something more intangible. Only a few oil paintings survive this era, and they do attest to a lingering attachment to early techniques that will be dropped by the time she enters college.
“These are still some of my favorite works, because my values as an artist were formed in these teenage years. They evoke memories of much loved people, places, and pets. Some of them do so with a sensitivity and mastery I could not exceed today. Even though there was still much to learn, I enjoy reliving through these drawings the freshness and excitement of a career being born. In my senior year, these paintings and drawings won me a full four-year scholarship to Texas Christian University. Over fifty of these early works still survive and are catalogued in my private collection.”
College years would demand a special kind of courage for Glenda. Not only would she be expected to grow in sophistication and mastery, the standards by which her art would be judged would no longer be provincial. She would now be measured by the best and most successful artists in history. This was a thrilling and inspiring prospect to her as long as the artists she studied and emulated were from the distant past: Da Vinci, Rembrandt, or Monet. What became her “beast in the night” were the masters and standards of contemporary art, especially abstract expressionism. In the 1960s, university art school climates were very avant garde. To be anything less than on the edge of “the brave new world” was to have no professional future as an artist.
“I was not offended by abstract art. It’s just that my interests and intellect did not face in that direction. Nevertheless, it was an unavoidable confrontation with the world. More than that, it was an encounter with my generation and the context in which I would either succeed or fail to make my stand as an artist. Although I was granted some room for transitioning beyond provincialism in my freshman year, I would have to resolve a big dilemma quickly if I were to profit from my education there. I would need to find my place in mainstream art, or I would have no place to go. This did not make for easy relations even though I continued to be an honor student and one of my professor’s favorite challenges.”
Not often can we view an artist’s career stretching for more than a half century—especially when it is still being created, and more than that, still making headway toward its pinnacle of innovation.
There is a signatory quality throughout Glenda Green’s body of work, within a great variety, richness, and technical mastery of her many subjects. Perhaps the longevity of her career is due largely to the range and success of her many interests, breadth of intelligence, and personality. She has been a true Renaissance woman, with accomplishments not only in art, but also art history, science, philosophy, literature, spirituality and theology. For many artists such a spread of involvement could have resulted in eclecticism. For Glenda it brought elasticity of vision, dimension, and dedication that is ever fresh and timely.
Before she was thirty she had been exhibited at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City and had a painting acquired for the permanent collection of the Smithsonian Institution. Her style, subjects, and media for every decade were the natural consequence of challenges, accomplishments, and environments unique to each period. Through the years of evolution a consistent artistic personality has always been at the core of her creativity. We look forward to presenting the story in pictures, text, reprinted articles and recorded media.
In reflection of five decades, from the time she first put brush to canvas, Glenda Green’s work exhibits a remarkable range of accomplishment.
In all of her paintings we see visual discernment, and standards of quality set by the greatest artists of all time. Regardless of the subject or medium, her work is marked by sophisticated composition; adept orchestration of color, light, and brushwork; with great depth of symbolic communication, allegory, metaphor, and visual syntax.
With paintings in such important collections as the Smithsonian Institution, the Museum of the City of New York, Williams College Museum of Art, and the State Art Collection of Oklahoma, Glenda Green has for many years been considered one of America’s finest realist oil painters. Her thriving and extensive career began in 1967 when she graduated magna cum laude with honors in painting from Texas Christian University. Continuing in her academic preparation, she obtained an M.A. in art history from Tulane University in 1970. There she held a three-year Kress fellowship, taught art history on the faculty, and was curator of collections for the Newcomb College art department. During a portion of this period (1968-69) she worked at Fort Worth’s Kimbell Art Museum as Research Assistant to the institution’s first director. These extra dimensions of preparation and competency have added great breadth to her painting career, which began to seriously flower by 1970. By the time she joined the art department of the University of Oklahoma in 1972, she had established herself–among many of the nation’s leading scholars, critics, and museum officials–as one of the world’s foremost portrait painters and realists.
As her creative style emerged into full character, it was marked by intuitive exploration, profound subjective feeling, evocative color, and exquisite craftsmanship. Starting in 1980, her prints were published and distributed by Bruce McGaw Graphics of NYC, through which they were established in the national and international marketplace. Today, her original paintings are housed in major collections throughout the United States.
Her preferred medium is oil painting, although she has received many outstanding reviews for her work in pencil, pen, and lithography. Her subject matter has ranged from portraiture, to interpretive figure studies, to landscape, and still life. In all of it, she is a master of composition, color, and light with a superb technique that includes both detailed realism and expressive brush work.
Biographical references include, North American Women Artists of the Twentieth Century: A Biographical Dictionary, edited by Jules Heller and Nancy G. Heller; Angels A to Z, by James R. Lewis and Evelyn Oliver, 1996. Who’s Who in American Art, (15th and 16th Editions); Who’s Who in the South and Southwest, (17th, 18th, and 19th Editions); Who’s Who of American Women (12th, 13th, and 14th Editions); Dictionary of International Biography, Vol. 16.
Next: Artist’s Viewpoint
This was a period in which Glenda’s spiritual ideals and insights would be expressed more directly through writing, teaching, and public speaking, allowing her painting endeavors to resume their unique creative and poetic impetus as in years before.
There would be obvious continuity with the 90s through her use of spiritual imagery, such as angels, although now there would be a change of emphasis. Rekindling her artistic orientation of the seventies and eighties she would select classic images of women that allow her to focus on composition, brushwork, meticulous rendering, and human sensibility of the sort that had served her so well in past decades. However, after a decade of exploring the height and depth on human consciousness in the 90s, these new paintings would be even more sensitive and evocative than the ones before. The contrasts would be more intense, the colors bolder, and the state of mind more contemplative.
There would be components of psychology, and most especially spatial organization, that could not have been achieved earlier. At first glance this would seem to be a relatively conservative period focused on technical finesse, poetic feelings, and traditional subjects. However, there were seeds of innovation that would spring forward into a whole new epoch in 2008.
By spending the previous decade largely disconnected from the material world, immersed in a larger field of consciousness, engaged in a sophisticated study of mind, Glenda was able to grasp and express our human aptitude for actually creating one’s perception of the spaces seemingly wrapped around us. Similar beliefs were primary to the drive of the post impressionists painters, although science did not yet exist to confirm their devote expressions of both diverse and strangely discordant perspectives.
Glenda’s research and objective confirmation of it could be seen in two small landscapes of this period. Though small in physical size, their power would launch new artistic creations once she had completed this important interval of reclaiming the artistic power and passion of past decades including her revolutionary theory of color developed in the sixties and seventies.