the present tense

Artist Larry Henry, originally from Nevada and now based in Sarasota, creates landscapes that shift between the surreal and the figurative, between dreamscape and familiar scenery. For those of us who live in or know Sarasota, these paintings carry meaning, but they also reveal something deeper: the hidden significance of dreams. In Henry’s acrylic paintings, we find not only what the eye sees, but also what the eye feels, imagines, and dreams.

Exhibited at Red Seed Studios, one of my favorites is Humanatie, painted after last hurricane season. As Henry told me during a conversation in his studio, manatees had come closer to us in some of the flooded areas. In this work, it is as if they are visiting an abandoned house—no longer inhabited by humans, but now claimed by these creatures of the water. Or is it we humans who have inhabited their territory? Are we the visitors?

Another favorite of mine is Family, for its contrast of colors and for the interplay between masculine and feminine figures. An Amish family—like those who spends winter in Sarasota—gazes out toward the beach, as if searching for or longing after something lost on the horizon. One of the women, instead of wearing the somber tones of the others, is dressed in red: perhaps an adolescent stepping into adulthood and fertility, with a red that suggests passion, energy and maybe pain. She also stands as the figure of contrast, of rebellion—the “red sheep” of the family.

Under Pressure combines two techniques: expressive brushstrokes with textures and shadows alongside a detailed chalk study on a black background, recalling the scientific illustrations of the late nineteenth century. Here again, the contrast of tones, colors, and meanings creates intrigue and tension.

The piece Mamie and Sanderling at Lido Beach is a nod to Sarasota’s circus past, when the Ringling Circus settled here during the winter months and helped shape this coastal city. The giraffe, abandoned and lost on the beach, far from its own kind, far from home, stands in contrast to the flock of seagulls and the colorful umbrellas that evoke circus tents.

Henry is also a prominent architect, and that expertise is deeply present in his artistic work. Some of his paintings depict Sarasota’s architecture from perspectives and lines that recall building plans, yet staged and colored in ways that seem to rise out of dreams. But not dreams of random, absurd elements or vague haze—rather dreams of clear lines and concrete forms, dreams that feel entirely possible, more real than reality itself.

Jesús Miguel Soto