There are a lot of things I’ve felt looking at the work of Elizabeth Glaessner, but I’m not sure any of those feelings are correct after spending a morning taking in her every word. When we spoke, she was in France completing the second part of a residency as she tottered around on a small stool while talking me through her color theory and experimenting with scale and the dissonance we all encounter between our bodies and faces. Like a phantom on the terrace of Glaessner’s bookish mind, I came to the realization that the dreamy nature of her artwork is just as mutable as the subjects she’s compelled to paint. There’s really not a concrete answer for it all,…
