A Portrait of the Artist: Cathy Abramson

Cathy Abramson has a full time job working as a print and web graphic designer for NOVA research company. The National Institutes of Health is one of her main clients, providing her with opportunities to design event signage, posters, websites, and occasionally even entire exhibits. She also does scientific illustration.

Having set out to become a medical illustrator, Abramson quickly switched paths to fine arts. After majoring in political science at SUNY at Stony Brook in New York and dabbling in art classes, she grew her interest in photography. After a brief stint as an evening student at The Museum School in Boston followed by another short-lived University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center at  Dallas foray into medical illustration, which required her to take science classes alongside medical students, Abramson returned home with a portfolio of photos of small Texas towns.

Despite this apparent detour, Abramson's medical school experience paved the road to her becoming a figure painter.

"We got to study and draw cadavres, which is excellent training for an artist," said Abramson who has been delving into more figure-based work, specifically a series of mother/daughter portraits recently. Although her training in scientific illustration has helped her to master painting human anatomy, her more recent work focuses on the subtleties of human emotion.

"I am interested in real relationships," said Abramson recounting how she likes to get to know her models personally and makes a point of engaging with them during painting breaks. "I tend to pick up on visual cues and then portray them in my work. Sometimes, you walk into a situation, and all you need to do is watch two people interact to gage the relationship."

Abramson, who is married with three sons, is fascinated by mother/daughter relationships. At a parent's weekend event at one of her son's colleges, she noticed that a mother and her daughter were both wearing a red band on their wrists. Striking up a conversation with them, she found out that they were both into Kabbalah. Another examples she cites to illustrate the subtleties of what interests her are a mother and daughter who like to wear all black but live in a very colorful house. Yet another, is the example of a brilliant mother who has two very accomplished daughters who populate their bookshelves with titles like Chaos.

"My painting brings out what might be going on - something that is not immediately apparent," says Abramson who gently uses symbolism to indicate the uncanny or a subtle disturbance through her work.

"I am working on a painting of a bagel shop at the moment. In the reflection of the window looking into the shop is an eyeball construed from the presence of a parking meeter on the outside side of the glass. In a painting of a shop window in Madrid I was interested in a few dichotomies and perhaps a time relationship. Beautiful tutus in the shop window were set against the reflection of old architecture, nearly eclipsed by a flashy, new motorcycle."

As she counts down her favorite figurative painters, Abramson mentions Hopper, Sargent, Lucian Freud and Gillespie. She polishes off a magnanimous list of illustrators that inspire her, including Gary Kelly, who does the murals for Barnes and Noble, Leonard Baskin, Edward Sorel and "really anyone who can draw," she stops herself.

A lifelong student, Abramson still takes painting classes at The Yellowbarn Studio and Gallery in Glen Echo, Maryland as well as the Washington Studio School and The Torpedo Factory in Alexandria.

"Since I work full time, taking classes helps me to carve out time. Each teacher really opens up your eyes to something you had not thought of before."

When asked what the most unusual piece she has ever created is, Abramson refers to a painting in progress.

"I am experimenting with composition," she said. "A seated nude is placed strangely on the canvas, occupying the lower left third of the canvas. I am trying to push myself and try different compositions. In my free time I am also planning on looking into an 18th century movement focusing on mother/daughter portraits."  

In it for the long haul, Abramson accounts for what makes her tick as an artist.

"I don't get to paint full time. The difference between someone who does and someone who doesn't is that someone who gets to paint full time gets to develop a conversation with the artwork. It's that conversation that really achieves depth and quality in a piece of art. Otherwise you just work in bits and pieces. You have to be at it for an extended period of time. That is what I want to get to eventually."

In the meantime, Abramson works from photographs and live models. Her painting O'Rourke's Diner is in the current show at Kentlands Mansion. It was painted from eight or nine different photographs, which she collaged together to achieve the precise composition and setting she was looking for.

"We were on a family vacation to Middletown, CT where Wesleyan University is and this is the go-to place for students and the campus community. It is constantly packed. The place has a great ambiance, and I was thinking of Hopper's Night Hawks while I was there. The waitress had a smile on her face, as if she were not just thinking about her job. I was interested in people who seemed to be together yet isolated at the same time," explained Abramson who has a show at The Orchard Gallery in Bethesda, Maryland during March.

Commenting on the reception of her Kentlands Mansion show, Abramson wraps up her motivation for painting.

"Someone at the opening described my paintings as representing a community. I rather liked that image, men and women going about their daily lives in identifiable settings, but being part of a larger group, interacting on some level. I do look for a narrative when I paint. Perhaps it's my illustration background but I like to see if there's a story, a setting or an imagined narrative associated with the subject matter...I ask the painting what it needs, if the composition really works or needs some nudging, if I need a bit of cerulean blue here and cadmium red there. At this point I want the painting to sing and not just tell a story."