The paintings of Amanda Visell draw me in, and break my heart. Her imagery is like a deluge of narrative (oh yeah, I said it). I've never seen a human beings artwork that was more perfectly suited for the illustration of childrens books. I marvel at the idea of the kind of person I may have turned into if I'd have had her visuals to guide me through my youth. I am sure I'd be a much happier person in my adult life.
Visell builds complex imagery out of very simple shapes, which she makes no effort to hide, as if her pieces were assembled from paper cutouts. The straight edged look of her figures appears as though I should be disdainful of it, like it's sloppy and unkempt, but I couldn't feel more different about it, which both intrigues and confuses me. The aloof expression worn by her characters allow me a blank slate upon which to impose as much emotion as I'd like, which roughly translates to some of the most emotionally stunted cast ever seen in a collected body of work. At no time in her paintings do her color choices feel anything less than essential. Everything she paints is so complimentary of itself that her images seem to set neatly on a delicate framework of sheer professionalism. The color accents she provides her work are what really set them off to me. They looks as though they were applied with a sort of dry brushing technique, allowing chance to play a role in the overall composition, which I find to be a brave and highly respectable choice. One that I lack the spine for.
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