Nicole Wittenberg’s Sweeping Landscapes Take Root at Acquavella

Nature offers an alternate perspective on the passage of time. While its cycles may appear predictable and ordinary, they encapsulate the extraordinary: flowers blooming, leaves changing colors, sunsets fading, and tomatoes decaying on the vine. These rhythms persist, indifferent to yet inevitably influenced by human joys and sorrows.

Consider hydrangeas, a cheerful species that has thrived for millions of years; while they flourish in the ground, they quickly perish once cut. What emotions arise when gazing upon something so transient yet timeless? This ephemeral essence is the driving force behind Nicole Wittenberg’s vibrant landscapes. Her artwork leaps from the canvas, bursting with color and bold strokes, urging viewers to notice, and reminding them that it might not endure.

In her latest exhibition titled “All the Way,” opening on October 16 at Acquavella, Wittenberg explores her fascination with depicting flowers and trees. However, her works are not merely about these subjects; they express moods and attitudes, showcasing light, layers, and presence. Some pieces radiate exuberance, while others exhibit somberness or nostalgia. She describes them as emerging from a subconscious place, tapping into feelings just beneath the surface, making her landscapes more vessels than literal representations. In this sense, they too encourage a reevaluation of time.

Born in San Francisco, Wittenberg begins her creative process with pastel sketches rendered on textured paper outdoors, primarily in Maine. Recently, she explored new surroundings, producing 20 sketches during a week-long visit to the expansive gardens at the Château de Courances in France. These plein air sketches are quick, capturing the essence of a moment before the light changes or the flowers fade. The spontaneity and vibrant colors of these sketches create a dynamic energy that flows through her work. Wittenberg likens her collection of sketches to a library of experiences that she can draw upon whenever needed, much like the anatomical studies of Peter Paul Rubens that informed his paintings.

Back in her studio, whether in NYC’s Chinatown or her newly established Maine residence, Wittenberg scales up her pastel sketches into grand oil paintings—some reaching heights of eight feet. Yet these larger pieces evolve into something distinct during the transformation; a flower in a sketch morphs into a painting, each phase tinted by her personal insights and life history.

One significant distinction between her pastel sketches and finished paintings lies in the tools she utilizes. For the last decade, Wittenberg has employed a broom instead of traditional brushes for her oil paintings. This unconventional choice serves as an extension of her body, allowing her to maintain distance from the surface while observing one corner of her work as she applies paint elsewhere. It transforms her creative process into a physical performance, amplifying her gestures, much like an actor modifies their expressions from screen to stage.

The broom changes the form of her lines; she oscillates between using the broad side, a corner, or pressing the head against the canvas. This versatility comes at the expense of precision, as paint adheres differently to brooms than to brushes, enabling easy addition or removal of materials with fluid strokes. This technique incorporates another temporal element to her creations; Wittenberg must act swiftly, as the oil can dissolve the bristles, leading to imagery of flowers or skies that appear to weep.

“It’s a completely uncontrolled process,” she exclaims, reveling in its chaos. These pieces are unlike O’Keeffe’s flawless floral portrayals.

Wittenberg employs her signature Fauvist color palette, akin to colorful Starbursts melting in sunlight. She layers her canvases with striking oranges or rosy hues initially, creating vibrant underpainting that simulates sunlight: dazzling yet life-affirming. This strategy allows her oils to reflect the bright saturation found in her pastels, which naturally pop against paper. The result imbues her artwork with a radiant, almost luminous quality.

A master of color, Wittenberg enhances tree bark with unexpected purple strokes or adds dazzling chartreuse to a rose’s center, rendering it almost three-dimensional. These techniques may stem from early memories of viewing art as a child at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. A particularly impactful piece for her was Matisse’s Woman with a Hat, which she encountered around the age of seven. She recalls, “I just knew I wanted to create that… it resonated with me on a deeply emotional level.” Wittenberg shared this sentiment in an interview featured in her recent monograph, published this year by Monacelli Press and Phaidon. (She and Jarrett Earnest will be in dialogue at 92NY on November 5.)

However, some of Wittenberg’s dreamlike landscapes possess darker implications, hinting at themes of disarray or anxiety. Flowers may appear to gnash or ooze, as evidenced in her 2024 piece August Evening 2, and trees bend as if on the brink of breaking. The very atmosphere suggests tension. She describes a sense of sorrow that gripped her last summer as political extremism surged worldwide, prompting her to find solace in portraying flowers. “It felt like focusing on flowers became essential,” she confesses.

Flowers embody a duality: they are susceptible to the world’s turmoil—climate change, pollution, war—but also exist distinctly apart from these issues. Their ability to bloom amidst adversity is nothing short of miraculous.

Wittenberg’s godmother, a prominent ecologist from Berkeley, acquainted her with Gertrude Jekyll’s work, a noteworthy garden designer responsible for approximately 400 gardens in the UK, Europe, and America during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Jekyll approached garden design with an artistic sensibility, orchestrating colors and layouts much like a painter. Her influence is significant for Wittenberg, who appreciates Jekyll’s delicate planting style that feels almost organic. Upon visiting Courances, Wittenberg learned that a protégé of Jekyll had contributed to the garden’s design, confirming the connection to Kathleen “Kitty” Lloyd Jones, who was involved in enhancing the Japanese-style garden just prior to World War I.

Notably, Jekyll was also a prolific writer. In her renowned book, Colour in the Flower Garden (1908), she proposed a viewpoint that resonates with Wittenberg’s artistic methodology: “I firmly believe that simply possessing an array of plants, however remarkable they may be, does not constitute a garden; it merely forms a collection. The real task lies in using these plants with thoughtful selection and clear intention.”

This clear intention is a hallmark of Wittenberg’s work. When standing in front of her enormous paintings, which dwarf the viewer, there’s an immediate sense of immersion, a profound awareness of the initial moment of inspiration.

Wittenberg has expressed her long-standing admiration for cinema, particularly for the cinematographer Michael Ballhaus, noted for his work in Martin Scorsese’s The Age of Innocence (1993) and Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992). Ballhaus had a unique regard for art, often referencing renowned paintings in his cinematography, appreciating the impact of a strong visual image beyond the narrative.

This cinematic quality in Wittenberg’s art traces back to her earlier figurative style. Initially, she painted people as viewed through screens, starting with portraits via Skype, where her friends would pose onscreen. This contrasts with her plein air sketches, which involves her artistry capturing the trees and flowers, essentially a reversal of a studio session. After exploring this for years, she found inspiration in amateur erotic art, captivated by its raw authenticity. The gestural qualities of her erotic work echo those found in her landscapes, as if figures morph into flowers, with tangled foliage replacing limbs.

Just like her cinematic influence, Wittenberg prioritizes imagery over narrative, encouraging viewers to focus on the content, rather than a prescribed interpretation. She identifies as an intuitive artist, preferring not to engage with overtly political or linguistic themes. “I’ve come to realize that I am inherently a romantic painter,” she ponders.

Wittenberg is steadfast in her independence as an artist and has grown to trust her instincts over time. In her words, “I never aimed to create the artworks that everyone else was making.” Landscape painting, particularly of Maine—a quintessentially picturesque locale—is not a novel endeavor, yet Wittenberg’s unabashed approach distinguishes her from others in the tradition of capturing its raw beauty.

2025 has been a significant year for Wittenberg. In addition to her forthcoming Acquavella exhibition—her inaugural showing since joining the gallery—she has participated in three earlier exhibitions this year (including two in Maine and one in Paris) along with the release of her monograph. In September, it was announced that a new restaurant by Dior in LA will showcase her artwork. Amidst planning and openings, she continues to pour her passion into painting, characterized by an unstoppable zeal for creation.

This enthusiasm is reflected in the unconfined nature of her paintings—there is a notable lack of boundaries. It is the absence of containment that unifies her work. “With this new series, I aim to transition from one sensation to another, one emotion to the next, one subject to another. However, the energetic essence of the painting remains the underlying constant,” she reflects.

“Nicole Wittenberg: All the Way” runs from October 16 through December 5, 2025.