Contact: Karl Slocum
267 455 0279
Exhibition Dates: February 4h – February 27th, 2011
First Friday Opening: February 4th from 6:00 – 9:30 pm
Artist Reception: Sat. February 5th, 2011 (1pm – 4pm)
(Philadelphia) – The Knapp Gallery continues its tradition of First Friday open

MZB’s

Painting the reflection of her essence, gifted with the ability to translate and interpret the very nature of her character, emotions, likes and dislikes, through color she disrobes for us layer after layer, exposing an intimate glimpse into her makeup.

Color as an expression, an intimate language, her language, character by character, symbology dripping with life, connotation and immediacy, we are drawn into latent memory through visually stimulated - olfactory cognition. Maggie’s coloring conjures up definitive and familiar scents of our lives and existence; prescribing the hue of the human condition. Glimpses of divine light, lost in revelry, transported to and fro by waves of refraction, inhaled through ocular fragrance, we are immersed into the sensual, even the melancholy.
Is that all there is, pigmentation, light’s frequency and wavelength? Color, the “to

Enough with the safe version.
Beyond expected levels of enthusiasm, I'm jazzed and simultaneously taunted by these paintings. So far outside my comfort zone is Margaret's work that I am given pause. Normally drawn to edgier

Gracefully lacking pretension, by a whisper of silence, I am lulled, drawn to her altar of peace; beauty abounds. Oh, that this paradigm might last. Ripped from Dream's revelry, illusions of peace an affront to my frenetic paranoid sensibilities; I am challenged by silence, more so by the appearance of silence cloaked in peace. Notions of calm, well outside my understanding, I am weary of Greeks bearing gifts. My unrest is at issue. I am helpless against such weapons of resolve.
MZB’s Paint by Color body of work, beyond piquing my curiosity, mystifies and confuses my want for clos

Unsatisfied is my flesh in its hunger for satisfaction. I thrash about seeking the source of my screams and cries of anxiety. Shrieks for acknowledgement and liberation pierce me through exposing my evil desire to revel in their pain and anguish; from whence cometh this bent on destruction? Appalled, my wretchedness is ever-present; how the darkness blinds me. Elusive is my want for gratification, bi-polarity demanding its tax; Beauty's opposing realities of stench, grime and discontentedness.
How dare the light dwell just beyond my grasp?

Wanting respite from the deafening cacophony, looking to my cache of Brown laden imagery, out from under Calamity's heap, reaching, I grasp for her hand of peace, if only momentarily, knowing full well the imminence and appointed growl of life’s lingering wolves from beyond the door.