Rossella BLUE: 'Interaction Between Artist and Viewer'

I don’t care much for exhibition openings. Does anybody ever truly look at the work on display? So often, people seem to talk about anything but the art on view. What I’ve found deeply rewarding, however, are the times I’ve given guided tours of my exhibitions. Paying attention to the comments offered as I share where my ideas come from creates a genuine dialogue. The following are a few responses to questions that have come my way.

Venice by Rossella BLUE Mocerino

While explaining the concepts behind one of my paintings to a viewer, she mentioned how interesting she found my perspective—admitting she had assumed the piece was simply about the Venice Carnevale. That conversation made me realize how easily people might reduce my work to its surface imagery. While masked figures from the Carnevale inhabit my canvases, what truly ends up on the canvas is what passes through my mind. I live in the 21st century, after all, not the past. Perhaps what I am truly trying to create is an alternate reality—one distinct from the world we inhabit.

Boys with Pom-poms by Rossella BLUE Mocerino

Great artists are not afraid to engage in a conversation with the past or interact with the work of others. They are not imitators; they are interpreters of subjects that have been explored before.

New York by Rossella BLUE Mocerino

A viewer once asked why the figures in my triptych are cropped. I explained that if you look across all my work, almost every piece is cropped—with only a single painting early on showing a figure from head to toe. While I can't pinpoint the exact moment this became my signature style, the reasoning is simple: Focus your gaze on the subject. Concentrate on what matters. Don’t get distracted by somebody’s shoes.

The World's Ocean by Rossella BLUE Mocerino

In every single one of my paintings, I use a very limited palette—two, three, or four colors at most, plus titanium white. Sometimes I ask myself if it would kill me to add another color. Obviously, it would, because I never do. By using such a restrained range, I get to truly know each color in all its nuances—and perhaps bring out the minimalist heart of my art.