The sense of hope in them is subtle but tangible, perhaps found in a brushstroke of unexpected light or the resilience in a solitary figure or object holding its place in an uncertain world.
Some memories resonate over and over and become part of our identity. Often they are just below the surface, on the border of dream and real life. Carol Hodder’s work mines this in-between state that sometimes leads to change and transformation.
Hodder is haunted by water. Early memories of being in a small boat on the lake with her father in Kerry anchor her exploration of water, shoreline and edges. Her paintings often contain a sense of ambiguous internal weather, where ideas and experiences brood behind the surface of human experience.
The quietness in her work doesn’t mean stillness—it might be the kind of quiet found in deep thought or in moments just before sleep, when the day dissolves and memory becomes fluid. It may be the tension between safety and fear. The darkness in her paintings—whether literal or tonal—shouldn’t be mistaken for despair or drama. It is more likely the depth of introspection, mystery, or the richness of feelings too large for daylight. The sense of hope in them is subtle but tangible, perhaps found in a brushstroke of unexpected light or the resilience in a solitary figure or object holding its place in an uncertain world.
These Winter Paintings are works that touch a primal chord and speak directly in the language of Hodder’s own lived experience.
Catherine Hammond