Crying at the lipstick bar

Lani Mitchell’s latest body of work, Crying at the Lipstick Bar, delves into the intricate terrain of longing, grief, and hope. This new series of large-scale paintings conjures an alchemic landscape, fragmented, tender, and perpetually in motion. It is a dialogue between memory and desire, between sorrow and future hope.

In these lush, illuminated paintings, Mitchell fuses themes of idealism, and the eternal pursuit of beauty. The paintings are saturated with an ethereal quality, yet grounded in the earthiness of grief and loss. Through muted and buttery tones—creamy whites, soft yellows, and delicate reds—the work subtly reflects the artist’s own journey through the grief of losing two close friends, David and Julie. Their absence hangs heavily in the air, yet it is the emotional residue of their memory that gives these paintings their tender resonance.

The medium itself—the rich, thick oil paint—becomes a vessel for Mitchell’s expression. With each brushstroke, she weaves an intricate tapestry of past and present, creating space for the viewer to connect with what is invisible and intangible. There are moments of clarity amid the clouded imagery, as though the figures and landscapes in the paintings are half-formed, suspended between worlds: the known and the unknown, the lost and the found. The use of oil paint, luxurious and textural, acts as a bridge between these dimensions. Mark-making is precise, detailed etchings emerge like whispers from the past, and the brush becomes both a tool of creation and catharsis.

In Crying at the Lipstick Bar, the narrative of loss is rendered not as a void, but as an act of reaching—a gesture of love, desire, and the persistence of beauty even in the face of suffering. Mitchell’s memory of the mundane becomes sacred. A trip to Paris, once filled with romantic anticipation, transforms into a poignant exploration of beauty, death, and the resilience of the human spirit. It is in these fleeting moments that Mitchell invites us to see the extraordinary within the ordinary: a lipstick, a train ride, a bouquet of roses.

The title itself—a playful yet sorrowful reference to the ritual of beauty amidst pain —sets the tone for the exhibition.

There is an inherent contrast in the work: lush and decadent oil paints juxtaposed with fragmented figures, blurred memories, and the inevitable fading of time. The red lipstick, a symbol of vitality and life force, becomes an emblem of the artist’s desire to capture something eternal in the face of mortality.

Mitchell’s brushwork acts as a bridge between the living and the dead, the past and the future. She describes the painting process as an exploration of the tension between what is remembered and what is longed for. The fragmented nature of the works—sadness, hope, and longing occurring in quick succession—mirrors the emotional oscillation of grief itself. It is a cycle, one in which the weight of loss does not erase the possibility of beauty. There is hope in these works, but it is a hope that is soft, tender, and sometimes elusive.

The emotional core of Crying at the Lipstick Bar is rooted in the artist’s personal connection to the figures of Julie and David, whose lives were intertwined with hers in a tapestry of love, loss, and memory. As Mitchell remembers Julie’s passing—her red lipstick, a symbol of vitality and charm—there is a deeper yearning to hold onto what is pure and beautiful, even in the wake of sorrow. It is an act of defiance against the weight of life’s tragedies, a refusal to let go of the things that make us feel alive, even when faced with the harshest of realities.

The minimal palette employed throughout the exhibition serves as a metaphor for memory itself: fragmentary, eroded by time, and often fading from view. Blues, yellow ochre, and cadmium yellow form the underpainting, evoking the clarity and vibrancy of moments once vivid but now softened by the passing of time. Over these layers, Mitchell builds white and cream marks that suggest a ghostly impression of the past—an almost ethereal presence that lingers in the background of the compositions, as though the memories are forever chasing the future. The result is a series of hauntingly beautiful images that ask the viewer to consider how we live with the ghosts of those we’ve loved and lost.

Ultimately, Mitchell’s Crying at the Lipstick Bar is a celebration of life in all its contradictions. It is a confrontation with the reality of grief, but also an embrace of hope and beauty, however fragile they may seem. It is a body of work that urges us to remember, to mourn, and to dream—always reaching for something more beautiful, even in the darkest of times.

“If you are going to cry for me, cry for me in Paris,” a sentiment that becomes both a mournful request and a tribute to the enduring power of love, beauty, and memory.