Daily Nutmeg writer Kathy Leonard Czepiel reviews Shilo Ratner's 2020 solo exhibition at DaSilva Gallery, exploring how her geometric abstract paintings use color, shape, and repetition to create calm, meditative visions in chaotic times.
A reflection on the Georgia O'Keeffe traveling exhibition at the de Young Museum in San Francisco, and what her wit, obsession, and lifelong drive to create continue to mean to my practice as a painter.
What made this exhibition particularly meaningful was the caliber of its juror: Marcela Guerrero, Assistant Curator at the Whitney Museum of American Art. Guerrero's curatorial practice centers on expanding the canon of American art, with a focus on underrepresented artists and the expressive power of color and abstraction.
Traces of Stillness is a contemplative 6×6 inch collage series by Shilo Ratner exploring quiet mountain landscapes through minimal form, layered paper, and subtle geometry. Original works on paper available now.
Shilo Ratner reflects on the opening reception for the 2012 National Juried Exhibition at First Street Gallery in New York, juried by Dore Ashton — a celebration of contemporary fine art and creative community.
Most conversations about art end at the point of purchase. But what happens after a painting comes home? That's where the real story begins, and where the value of original art truly reveals itself.
A personal reflection on visiting the Sanctuary of Dom Bosco in Brasília—and what it means to stand inside a space defined entirely by blue.
Shilo Ratner visits the New York City studio of legendary figurative sculptor Bruno Lucchesi on June 28, 2012 — an intimate look at the master's unassuming workspace, his striking subway series, and the signed copy of Terracotta she brought home.
In August 2015, Shilo Ratner participated in the nationally juried Annual Contemporary Art Survey at The Lincoln Center in Fort Collins, CO, with guest juror Dean Sobel, Executive Director of the Clyfford Still Museum.
New Haven artist Shilo Ratner reflects on how motherhood reshaped her studio practice from late-night painting to 5:30am starts—and how that shift shapes her geometric abstract work.
Early decisions act as constraints, but not in a restrictive way. They create direction. A horizon line placed slightly higher or lower shifts the entire spatial experience. A compressed shape changes how the surrounding space breathes. A color introduced too early can either anchor the work or flatten it. These choices don't just sit on the surface. They organize everything that follows. The painting begins to build from that first condition.
The Psychology of Color in Art
I've been thinking a lot lately about how color functions almost independently from subject matter in painting. Long before we recognize an object, a horizon line, or a figure, we react emotionally to color relationships.
That reaction is immediate and psychological.
It's one of the reasons I continue returning to artists like Josef Albers and Pierre Bonnard. Their work reminds me that color itself can become the structure, emotion, and atmosphere of a painting.
Albers approached color almost scientifically. His studies explored how colors change depending on what surrounds them, how one color can appear completely different when placed beside another. A muted gray can suddenly become luminous. A soft blue can feel cold against one tone and electric against another.
What fascinates me about Albers is that he proved color is never fixed. It's relational. Psychological. Unstable in the most beautiful way.
Bonnard approached color differently, but with just as much intensity. His paintings dissolve observation into atmosphere. The color combinations are often unexpected: acidic yellows against lavender shadows, saturated oranges beside pale violets, strange greens woven into interiors and skin tones. Yet somehow the paintings feel emotionally true.
That balance between dissonance and harmony is something I think about constantly in my own work.
When I'm painting water, marshes, or coastal spaces, I'm rarely interested in reproducing literal color. I'm more interested in creating a sensation through color interaction. Sometimes that means pushing warmth into areas that should technically feel cool, or allowing deep ultramarines to sit beside softened blush tones because the tension between those colors creates emotional movement.
I think that's where painting becomes less about documentation and more about perception.
Certain color combinations can create stillness while others create vibration. A muted blue-gray beside a sharp coral can suddenly make a painting feel alive. Soft tonal shifts can create quietness and distance. Saturation can create physical energy.
I notice this especially when layering paint. Often the most important decisions happen when I stop thinking about "local color" entirely and start thinking about temperature, contrast, memory, and emotional weight.
That's something Bonnard understood deeply. His paintings were never really about interiors or landscapes alone. They were about light filtered through memory and emotion. The color carried the psychological experience of the space.
I think collectors respond to this intuitively, even if they don't consciously analyze why. People often tell me a painting feels calming, expansive, nostalgic, or atmospheric before they ever discuss composition. The emotional response happens first.
And honestly, I think that's the power of painting itself.
Color bypasses language.
It reaches us in a place that feels instinctive, emotional, and almost impossible to fully explain.
Related Reading
If this resonates, these posts go deeper into the ideas behind the work:
How Josef Albers Shaped the Way I See Color — the direct influence of Albers' relational color theory on my geometric practice.
Pierre Bonnard and the Color That Holds — how a trip to Paris deepened my understanding of color as emotional memory.
Raimonds Staprans: Saturated Color, Presence, and Lasting Impact — another painter who uses color as pure psychological force.
Pieces That Connect
These works came directly out of the ideas above, color as structure, tension as atmosphere:
Sail Away, 36×36 — ultramarine and warm coral in direct tension, the color does the emotional work before the subject registers.
Beach, 30×30 — soft tonal shifts across a geometric plane, stillness created through temperature rather than subject.
Harbor, 30×40 — deep blues and muted neutrals layered to create distance and quiet, the kind of atmospheric weight Bonnard understood.
Bring This Into Your Space
If you've ever felt drawn to a painting before you could explain why, that's color doing exactly what it's meant to do. Explore the collection to find the piece that holds that feeling for you, or inquire about a custom commission if you have a specific palette or feeling in mind.
Explore the Collection →
11th Annual Small Works Show at 440 Gallery in Park Slope, Brooklyn — a juried NYC exhibition and a wonderful way to end the new year.