Lin Medlin

My landscapes are emphatically devoid of any humans, and pervaded by a contemplative stillness. But where have all the people gone? And what are we to make of the quietude?

Painting of landscapes can be both an expression of philosophical concepts and a reflection of the inner state of the artist. These works make an argument about the nature of today’s world and our present reality. We live, for the most part, in places filled with clamoring humanity, ever rushing forward. One way to comment on this reality is to conjure on canvas worlds where the opposite reigns; an absence of fellow humans, an insistent stillness. In these paintings, movement has been caught in a particular instant. Yet, paradoxically, the same paintings communicate the flow of natural processes such as the movement of clouds and wind over water, and in place of humans, vibrant spirits of saturated color haunt these vistas, giving them both motion and harmonious beauty.

The element of frozen time implies a paused narration. We are shown the kind of enthralling places many human souls long for, and we can tell something has been happening there, and we feel more will happen.

Even if viewers do not absorb the full intended message at a conscious level, I hope through these scenes to give some sense of the desirability of a relationship with the natural order that allows for contemplation and fuller realization of its beauty.

I grew up in Dallas, where I began painting in oil at 15. My undergraduate work was at Southern Methodist University, where I received a JD with highest honors, majoring in painting and art history. I then did graduate work in art history at Oberlin College for two years as a Kress Foundation Fellow.  After that I got a JD from Yale Law School. I have long been involved with Undermain Theater in Dallas, where I am currently president of its Board of Trustees.