It's not often that I get a pic of myself where my eyes aren't closed or there isn't a goofy look on my face, but when Martin Gisborne is around I get pretty lucky.
And it's not often that an artist you admire writes a pretty great review of your work.
Thank you to Mr. Michael J. Deas for this:
Kellie Talbot's paintings are instantly recognizable for their bold, almost exuberant, use of color. The dramatic juxtapositions of sunlight and shadow and the startlingly abrupt compositions are distinctive hallmarks of Talbot's work. Once-majestic signage, rusting machinery, and forlorn cemeteries are reoccurring themes. Her skill with oil paint is obvious: brightly-colored enamels peeling away from cold gray steel, the fragility of broken neon tubing or missing, rust emanating from a corroded façade—all are impeccably rendered. Though joyously colored, there is an inherent melancholy that underscores many of these works. Her paintings evoke not only time and memory, but also the poignant beauty that often lies before our eyes. For beauty can often be found in the most unlikely places, and Talbot has an exceptional gift for recognizing them.
Less obvious is the undercurrent of metaphor inherent in her work. Though ostensibly renderings of a vanishing American landscape, there is something more going on: these are not simply paintings of things, but echoes of lives once lived, of voices once heard and now stilled. They border upon portraiture. They are likenesses not only of architectural ruins, but odes to the nameless artisans and craftsmen who built them. One can almost sense the excitement that must have accompanied the building these structures, now left to weather and rust in out-of-the-way places. The welder who once joined the cold steel, the sign makers, the painters— the presence of their ghosts is palpable.
— Michael J. Deas