Every artist needs a surface. A crisp page or cave wall, some sleepy block of marble or chunk of wood. Whatever form it takes, the surface becomes a place to land, to sort, scream, pray or question. To breathe, and to be.

                "I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it." PICASSO 

               "I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it." PICASSO 

For Sue Scoggins, that surface was a blank canvas. That canvas took her in, all her bursting and burning, as she journeyed along side of her husband with young onset Alzheimer disease. Gradually, she transcended from coping to pure creating. Art gave her strength. It was passion and comfort, memory, confidence and want, alive on each awakening canvas.

With each brushstroke and bold, shimmering hues, her paintings show that good can come out of the bleakest situations. That, in fact, it’s obliged to.

Her work now hangs or she’s painted in North Carolina, California and Hawaii to places far afield as Spain, Italy, Hungary and France. Her chosen surfaces, full of hope and a spirit forged from the hottest, harshest flames, now dot the world. The biggest, grandest surface of them all. 

"Without artists there would be no Ancient Greek architecture, no painted ceilings in the Sistine Chapel, no pastel lemons or painted apples in your kitchen. Artists tell stories of our culture, give us delight, evoke an emotion. For this artist, it’s not me capturing a moment,  it’s a moment that captures me: skipping rocks with grandkids in the woods, seeing people connect, watching flowers speak. 
 
Creating comes from hours of solitude where the moments develop and dreams build into an emotion, a story. An emotion that finds itself on a canvas with quick bold swipes of a wide brush, vivid color with a quick scribble of charcoal nearby. In my mind is a house on a wooded road and wondering who lives there, memories of fishing boats gently rocking in a little French harbor while eating mussels at a sidewalk care,  walkers on an isolated stretch of sand after a storm, the swoop of a cloud interrupting an orange sunset on a scorching hot day on the sound. 
 
Visions well up.  Paintings begin. Get scraped away.  Marks applied, color builds and is refined until it says, “I’m finished.” Then the wondrous joy comes when it’s happiness is passed along to someone else. "