First there was the desire, not uncommon in early artistic forays, to make everything as realistic-looking as possible. Picture young Andrzej Skorut (his first name pronounced An-jay) as a boy in Poland, paintbrush poised, glancing intently between the painting on his easel and the green landscape of woods and fields around his father’s rural village, where the family spent weekends.
 

Later would come the discovery of an immense delight in the pure manipulation of paint on canvas, unrelated to any identifiable image. Applying and removing paint with a range of tools, scratching through layers to reveal exquisite subtleties of color and texture, finding hidden depths and surprising beauty in the intuitive making of marks – all these were pleasures Skorut savored during the period, mostly during art school in Poland and at the University of Utah, when he created abstract art. And these things remain an intrinsic part of his work today, although at first glance – or from a distance – the artist appears to have returned to his realist roots.

What he has done, in fact, is develop a form of expression that seamlessly incorporates abstraction into large-scale landscapes of a decidedly representational bent. Skorut’s paintings portray places of expansive earth and sky, often punctuated by a solitary tree or cluster of trees and bathed in an otherworldly aura of quiet and peace. These are landscapes of the American West, inspired in particular by Utah’s arid vastness, where the artist has made his home since immigrating to the United States in 1987.

But step a little closer, especially with paintings whose foreground stretches out to more than half the space. Here, beneath the landscape’s outer stillness lies an exuberance of abstraction, a territory rich in visual complexity and subtle hues. In the paradox that defines Skorut’s art, the formless contributes to image and form, while an unbounded energy adds to the painting’s general sense of calm.

Growing up in the Polish city of Krakow with its art museums and handsome historic architecture, Skorut felt the hand of tradition guiding his direction in art. Like paintings of the Old Masters, his work is composed of glazes, or many thin layers of semi-transparent paint. Yet much of the richness of Skorut’s work – and its contemporary feeling – comes from paint being removed, rubbed off, scratched into, marked over in the manner of abstract art. “It’s a perfect combination because there’s the (landscape) image in front of me to relate to, which is stimulating, and I can still make the connection with the painting process,” he reflects. “It completes the circle.”

In his spacious studio, Skorut has his hand in every aspect of painting, from constructing stretcher bars, to applying gesso and building his own frames. While control is vital at this level, the artist is happy to give himself over to the more mysterious, unplanned, and enjoyable aspects of art. “Painting to me is not a job, it’s an experience,” he asserts, “and it should be fun.”

Gussie Fauntleroy
Focus/Santa Fe 2005