Visual Art
A Walk in the Woods No. 12, 30” x 40”, Oil and Cold Wax on Wood Panel, by John Swincinski
A Walk in the Woods
by John Swincinski
I am not a writer, but I feel compelled to write about my work. I paint for my own selfish reasons. When a painting is still in the studio, it’s all about me, all about my feelings, and all about my experiences. I’m a bit narcissistic. And while I fully embrace the idea that those who collect my work should have the opportunity to interpret it for themselves, I want to give them a head start. This is the explanation of the starting point for a series of paintings that will encompass all of 2024. I will paint these ideas over and over again until I can paint them no more.
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I wrestle the 175-pound rooftop tent onto the rack mounted to my pick-up truck. I Load the rest of the camping and fly-fishing gear into the bed and the back seat. I kiss my wife goodbye, and I finally take off. In the trailer is a nearly 12-foot by 6-foot oil on canvas painting, an abstraction of time spent hiking in East Palisades Park, a beautiful little gem of wilderness in Atlanta’s overwhelming urban sprawl. It is the largest and most profitable commissioned artwork I have created to date. But the thought of delivering it makes me nauseous. How will they react? Will they like it? Will they think I am a fraud? Will they want their money back? I am already having a shitty year, and the only thing keeping me from driving off the highway and into the Atchafalaya Basin is the knowledge that the minute I’m done delivering this work, I’m headed into The Great Smoky Mountains. I’m headed into the woods.
Echoes of East Palisades, 64” x 140” (diptych), Oil on Canvas, by John Swincinski, Private Collection
My need to isolate in the woods began when I was a child looking to escape a broken home life characterized by poverty and alcohol and drug addiction. I grew up in the small rural blue-collar coal-mining towns of western Pennsylvania. The heart of Appalachia. My parents divorced when I was 7. While my father worked tirelessly to set himself on a straight and successful path, my mother, who had custody of my sister and me, remained locked in the grip of addiction and mental illness. Add to that, my family’s lack of economic status, my skinny and awkward physical presence, and my nerdy demeanor, and the outcome is a somewhat tough childhood. As a result – I spent a lot of time alone…in the woods.
A Walk in the Woods No. 3, 20” x 16”, Oil and Cold Wax on Wood Panel, by John Swincinski
Nealy a half-century later, I spend every moment I can in the wilderness. After 22 years of military service, mostly during a time when our country was continuously engaged in war and conflict, I have no more stomach for the military-industrial complex that feeds on our worst human characteristics. Add to that, I am one who suffers insanely from “Righteous Indignation.” My existence is populated with a constant sense of moral outrage. While I am proud of my convictions and my belief in standing up for what is right, the constant anger weighs on me every single day like a collapsed mine shaft. I have learned that there is only one escape and only one respite from the indignation.
A Walk in the Woods No. 5, 40” x 30”, Oil and Cold Wax on Wood Panel, by John Swincinski
The woods is my sanctuary. The minute I step onto a wooded path and begin the simultaneous physical and metaphoric journey away from society, the weights I carry begin to float to the ground like the leaves beneath my feet. I cannot survive long without having the regular opportunity to experience these healing journeys. And so, I make it a point to set aside a bit of sacred time as often as possible, thus securing my survival.
A Walk in the Woods No. 4, 40” x 30”, Oil and Cold Wax on Wood Panel, by John Swincinski
I mentally catalog and then carry my wilderness experiences back to the studio. There I begin the process of conveying the often sublime emotional content of what I observed and witnessed. I believe that there is the experience we actually have, and then there is the memory of that of that experience. The two are not the same. The latter becomes the reality, and that is what I paint. And even though I am making paintings about more recent excursions, my childhood spent walking the woods at the center of the Appalachian rust belt is captured in every work.
A Walk in the Woods No. 13, 36” x 48”, Oil and Cold Wax on Wood Panel, by John Swincinski
The woods of my childhood is where the foundation of my abstract painting aesthetic originates. We develop our understanding of what is beautiful and compelling based on our early environment. There was no one to tell me that the sulfur orange “shit-crick” behind my house was not to be admired in the same way that someone from the Rockies admires a pristine and pure high mountain stream. The dirty dusty slag pile behind our house, refuse from decades of coal mining, reached over a hundred feet into the sky, just like a picturesque southwestern rock formation. Diesel carbon from the coal-laden dump trucks incessantly flying up and down the road in front of our house covered every surface like fine dry western snow, but black. Strip mining pits scar the land all around, but to me the vista from the precipice of one was as awe inspiring as standing on the edge of a natural canyon.
A Walk in the Woods No. 9, 20” x 16”, Oil and Cold Wax on Wood Panel, by John Swincinski
Over the years, I have been lucky enough to explore truly beautiful landscapes throughout North America and other parts of the world. I’ve immersed myself in the scenery of the Rockies, exploring Yellowstone and the Tetons. I’ve hiked Northern California and experienced the grandeur of Mt. Shasta. I’ve stood atop the Chisos Mountains on the border with Mexico. But my most recent journey to hike and fly-fish through the Smoky Mountains is the muse that kicked off this newest body of work. It was a gloriously painful and yet healing week.
A Walk in the Woods No. 10, 20” x 16”, Oil and Cold Wax on Wood Panel, by John Swincinski
I’ve learned over time to recognize and appreciate the wonderous and awe-inspiring beauty of the unspoiled landscape. And yet, when I paint these more recent experiences, somehow, the industrial degradation of the backdrop of my childhood remains encoded in the marks and surfaces, serving as a reminder of man’s impact on the natural world. Or perhaps it’s more personal than that. If I am being honest, the marks are a commentary on my childhood, a childhood scarred just like the landscape it experienced, but at the same time naive to the reality.
A Walk in the Woods No. 6, 48” x 36”, Oil and Cold Wax on Wood Panel, by John Swincinski
There is an angst to my painting style. Perhaps, the hand of the painter subconsciously keeps his work connected to that which informs his existence. Because of this duality of subject matter, my paintings emerge as a statement of both past and present. They are my autobiography. It’s a story I continue writing every time I walk in the woods.
Artist John Swincinski in his studio, photo courtesy of David Gamble
Artist Bio
John Swincinski (b.1974), an American Painter, was raised in the rural coal mining community of Windber in Western Pennsylvania, where he received private art instruction on various traditional drawing and painting techniques. He earned a vocational certificate in commercial art and graphic design and a BS in Communication from Norwich University. He then served 22 years as an officer in the US Marine Corps.
Near the end of his military career, John returned to his art, initially to cope with the upcoming life changes. He began showing his work again in 2016. Since then, his work has been in numerous group and solo exhibitions. John’s primary artistic focus is the creation of abstract oil paintings based on experiences he has while exploring nature and the wilderness all across North America. He considers his time in nature a critical part of his existence. His paintings reflect specific memories tied to these experiences. Still, his artistic style also recalls a childhood of living in a landscape of industrial decay combined with a military career, which included 17 years of being at war. Both influence how he sees the world and the aesthetic he imparts to his work.
When he is not exploring the wilderness, John works out of his studio in New Orleans, Louisiana. John received his MFA in Studio Painting from Louisiana State University in 2021. He is represented by Breckenridge Gallery in Breckenridge, CO, and Costello Gallery in Scottsdale, AZ.
You can see more of John’s work by checking out his website and following him on social media.
http://www.swincinskiart.com
https://facebook.com/swincinskiart
https://instagram.com/swincinskiart