MORGAN EVERHART

There is nothing still about Morgan Everhart’s still-lifes. Whether grand or intimate in scale, vibrantly colored or intriguingly subdued, Morgan’s flowers take me on a spiraling journey through my own emotions, from which I consistently emerge feeling blissful yet disquieted. I really like that tension. I also like that her work conjures in my mind flashes of minutely rendered floral borders by Jean Bourdichon and lush bouquets by great Dutch artists such as Ambrosius Bosschaert the Elder and Rachel Ruysch. In the hands of these Old Master painters, flowers were treated as repositories for myriad meanings, their fleeting beauty a magnet for religious and moralizing connotations. Morgan taps into that tradition, often investing her arrangements with spiritual significance, and using her blooms as a means of trying to make sense of life’s arbitrariness. In one form or another, flowers have a place in all the major rites that punctuate our existence; by so poignantly envisioning them, Morgan reminds us to contemplate time and what we chose to do with it. 

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Down on all occasions

Down on all occasions

 
Verticality

Verticality

 
 
 
Colors changing you

Colors changing you

 
 
I’m the former

I’m the former

 
 
 
She took my eyes somehow I believe

She took my eyes somehow I believe

By me, behind me, now it's gone

By me, behind me, now it's gone

 
They'll come back for you

They'll come back for you

 
 
The way it was

The way it was

 
 
 
Give it to us

Give it to us

 
Non-inertial frame of reference

Non-inertial frame of reference

 
 
 
You know my name

You know my name

 
No peace till I know you

No peace till I know you

 
 
Ride for my

Ride for my

 
For as long as you'd like

For as long as you'd like

Closer, clearer, no sir, nearer

Closer, clearer, no sir, nearer

How could I be so wrong

How could I be so wrong

 
Conclusions

Conclusions

 
Don’t wait to find

Don’t wait to find

 
Broken turn

Broken turn

 
Close enough

Close enough

 
 
 
Look toward the

Look toward the

 
Take you over

Take you over

 
For the long run

For the long run

 
Going there

Going there

 
Time’s unsure

Time’s unsure

 
Fever

Fever

 
Second son

Second son

 
Love can be

Love can be