Boston Globe, Aug 23, 1996
"Doing a double-take on Duxbury"
by Christine Temin
Beth Galston was drawn to the museum's secluded little rock-bordered pond, where she has placed a flotilla of oak leaves, painted in iridescent colors, from toothpaste turquoise to shocking pink--the colors of a Caribbean coral reef rather than a New England pond. They're a playful reminder not only of where we are, but when. At odds with the muted tones of the South Shore in late summer, they point the way to autumn, when our leaves are brilliantly colored without the aid of art or artifice.
Art Complex Museum Brochure, May 1996
"More Specific: Outdoor Sculpture Invitational"
by Beth Galston
Painted leaves. In the pond behind the museum.
In my creative process, a particular space is often a catalyst for generating an initial image or feeling. I work on site through improvisation to create a sculpture, which may evolve in surprising ways. When I visited the museum, I was drawn to the pond. I watched layers of leaves float on the water, skim the surface and slowly change position as the wind blew.
I imagined a work that would focus attention on the water and leaves, while adding a sense of play. I gathered fallen oak leaves from the site, painted them with bright iridescent colors to catch light, and coated them with epoxy resin. The leaves float freely with other elements in the pond, adding a new rhythm; their configuration shifts according to wind and weather.
Color, light movement and transformation are the elements of this ephemeral piece. The contained space of the pond becomes a mini-theatre, framing the activity within it.