MAGGIE WILDER’S BASEBALL OBSESSION
I’d like to explain my new baseball paintings, but the explanation’s inadequate. It all started with a news photo of Ichiro years ago. It was the most elegant figure I could imagine, certainly better than any great blue heron painting I’d ever seen. But then, after painting several “great blue heron” baseball pitchers, I became interested in the unique body language of the players. It was a mysterious world of men and their ways with each other. And then, (oh no!) I was escorted to a Mariner’s game. I’d vowed my paintings were not about sports. I slipped into watching games on television when invited. The world of baseball is now infinitely interesting: from dugout shenanigans to the facial expressions of successful batting, from mysterious huddles on the pitcher’s mound to the clowning of Kyle Seager and Robinson Cano’, from the protocol of relieving a pitcher to the strategies of Scott Servais. I am a fan. A sports fan. In my guts I think I can affect the outcome of the game. I want all my players to do well. I am a cheerleader. Yikes!
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