Katie Trokey

fine art

STORY OF A PAINTER

Press play on the memories of your childhood.  Which ones come to focus first? For me, they are always the same.  I am sitting in the sunniest room of our house, next to the kitchen.  A small girl, made smaller by the vast expanse of the beautiful, long wooden table reaching out in front of me.  Beside me sits my mother, opening her watercolor palette, full of wonder in a mess of blended pigment.  I am generously invited to join the color mixing to find my own newly created hues that are one of kind, all my own.

To most, I suppose this would not hold as much excitement as it held for me.  But for this girl, it was the introduction to a journey of a lifetime.  To create something new and unique, that can only be achieved my hand alone, ignites my passion still, as it did when I was young.

This passion for color continues to lead me along my painting practice.  I have been inspired to use the custom blending of color to convey emotion, pull forth memories, and explore new ways to look upon things and places we often take for granted; the details deep inside a collection of flowers, or the way the breeze makes the water ripple or the pine trees bend ever so slightly.  

Next up on my memory reel... 

Spending summers at the cottage on a lake that my great grandparents built.  You will see variations of the view from our pier in several of my waterscapes.  I don't paint from a photograph; exact accuracy of reproduction of that scene has never really interested me.  Its how it made me feel that I want to share with you.  I paint to share the sound of waves, the faint smell of last night's bonfire mixed with the fresh northern lake air, and sun warming me from the outside in, and the comfort only found in the predictability of a home built and sustained with love.  This is what I want to leave with you, and I hope that you feel it too. 

"If you could say it with words, there would be no reason to paint."

-Edward Hopper

© 2020 by Katie Trokey

Nashville, TN

ktrokey@me.com