About Alice Arlene Briggs

When I started showing the work at galleries and art fairs, something kept happening. People would stop in front of a piece and stay. They'd take a breath. Their shoulders would drop. And then they'd say, this is so peaceful.

I started paying attention to that — and I went back to the studio to figure out why.

The process came from a weekend workshop with a mentor: no subject, no goal — just playing with paint and layers of collage, stamping, textures. After a while, the painting reveals itself to me. It was equally horrifying and delightful. Horrifying because I didn't have a goal to shoot for. Delightful because what emerged was something I couldn't have planned.

As it happens, having minimal control over the process is a perfect place to be.

That's still how I work. It is exceptionally rare to have any real idea of what a piece wants to be when it grows up. I'm playing and intuitively watching how each layer interacts with the ones below. The artistic process for me is not a verbal one — it's more of a dance, and not very often am I leading. What I've learned from how people respond to my work is this: a created work carries the imprint of the state you were in when you made it. When I discovered that, I became much more intentional about what I brought into the studio. I pursue peace throughout the process. And I've been surprised, again and again, to find that it carries through the completed work.

Travel is a key that unlocks new arenas of creativity in me. Three times I've gone to Italy for two-week intensive art classes — eight weeks total. Experiencing the history of art and culture and just the land. I walked among cultivated olive trees that were planted long before my country was born and walked on streets that were laid millenia ago. I painted many of my favorite works while I was there, and the images and collage materials I brought home still are used in my work today.

Many of my other pieces are from stateside travels and bring back memories of specific places and times in Colorado, New Mexico, Michigan, Texas, and more.

Interestingly, now and then a person at a show would hurry past — almost as if they were afraid to catch something. I understand that more now, though I found it odd at the time. I know this work isn't for everyone.

But most people stopped. And they stayed longer than they meant to.

I paint for those people, and for you, the person who wants to savor a moment of peace, hope, joy, or whatever else you need.

The work isn't just beautiful. It changes the room.

I invite you to stop. Stay. See what shifts.