 Drawing 03·28·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Yesterday's studio session was a lot of me sitting and observing. Surprised I was at my having ignored the potency of negative space. I sometimes feel awash is quandary. Why did I so actively attack the positive forms as animators of my images? Why did I not look ardently at negative space as animator? I picked up a few books; I looked at images of works from de Kooning to Guston to Matisse. All of these artists, like me, tend to clog their canvases with marks, making negative space look like an afterthought. Their drawings, however, are different. Negative space is more important. (See drawings by these artists, below.) Today, I offer you a drawing of mine (made yesterday). In it I use negative space effectively. Learning never ceases. Learning sometimes leaves me with a feeling of loss; Sometimes it hurts! Why did it take me so long, some many drawings, so many paintings, to realize the great emotional and intellectual value of negative space?  Willem de Kooning, "Untitled", charcoal on paper, 1966  Philip Guston, "Web", India Ink on Paper, 1975  Henri Matisse, "Lydia with Her Hair in a Net", pencil on paper, 1939  "Doublethink" (2019 No.3, state 2), oil on canvas, 58x58 inches {"Doublethink means the power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one's mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them." -George Orwell, "Nineteen Eighty Four" (1949)}  Drawing 03·27·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches Risk is going to uncomfortable places. Yesterday I forced myself to minimize my marks between forms. This was difficult for me because this is not something I have explored well. I uplifted my consciousness: I forced my self to allow a lot of negative space between forms in yesterday's drawing. You can also see me thinking this way in the upper right of the painting "Doublethink". One master of negative space is Kenzo Okada (1902-1982). Below is Okada's 1954 painting, "Footsteps".  Kenzo Okada, "Footsteps", oil on canvas, 1954  "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2, state 14), oil on canvas, 60x33 inches {"Life is sweet at the edge of a razor; And down in the front row of an old picture show the old man is asleep as the credits start to roll. And I want to know, the same thing everyone wants to know, how's it going to end?" -Tom Waits}  Drawing 03·26·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches Yesterday I left the studio in doubt, full of worry. Am I making exceptional art, or just stuff that will disappear as soon as I disappear? Longevity of an image is a test of its meaningfulness. James Joyce's "Ulysses" will be read as long as humans read. I want my work to sustain itself, I want it to give meaning and knowledge to generations of viewers. I want my work to give others an experience of real, authentic, satisfying, deeply human ideas, ideas to contemplate by the process of seeing. As I thought about my work last night it felt as if my work is difficult, introspective, and slow in comprehension. There was redemption within this doubt. I know I am constantly moving forward; I am consistently making better and better work. Better to me is defined as more profoundly adequate in its ability to say true ideas, ideas that all sensitive and intelligent people can see. I am optimistic viewers of my art will respond with satisfaction that is intellectual and emotional. I am working in order to touch all viewers with fullness of human capacity, i.e., the stuff that make us uniquely us. Yesterday I believe I took a small step in that direction; Looking here, at today's reproductions, my worries dissipate a little. Yesterday's work is good.
 "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2, state 13), oil on canvas, 60x33 inches {"Life is sweet at the edge of a razor; And down in the front row of an old picture show the old man is asleep as the credits start to roll. And I want to know, the same thing everyone wants to know, how's it going to end?" -Tom Waits}  Drawing 03·24·2019 No.1, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches  Drawing 03·24·2019 No.2, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches The painting, "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2), is in state 13; now I know, it is gonna end. My drawings, however, tell a different story. This journey of mine, as long as I draw breathe, is NOT gonna end. I have become fascinated with the space between objects. I have always taken negative space into account, but my newest drawings exhibit an increased awareness of the potency that is blank space. For quite some time I have been worrying about congestion within my drawings — in yesterday's drawings I tackle this problem head-on. Interesting, I was on Instagram; There was a reproduction of a painting by Jean-Michel Basquiat. This work by Basquiat hit me hard. Immediately I recognized the power he gave the open areas in his canvas, areas between complex forms. I show you one of Basquiat's works. This is not the painting I saw that inspired me, but it does go right to my point.  Jean-Michel Basquiat, "Unbleached Titanium", acrylic, pencil, pastel, charcoal, crayon on paper, 57x76.5 cm, 1983  "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2, state 12), oil on canvas, 60x33 inches {"Life is sweet at the edge of a razor; And down in the front row of an old picture show the old man is asleep as the credits start to roll. And I want to know, the same thing everyone wants to know, how's it going to end?" -Tom Waits} "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2) continues its development. Here is state 12. This morning I walked into the studio; immediately this painting called to me for adjustments. Nothing extensive need be done. "How's It Gonna End" requires subtle enhancements. Great augmentation will occur with minor adjustments. The formal potency of this work will increase. BTW: Yesterday the width of this painting grew about one inch (such a bonus is available because I work on an oversized canvas tacked to a work wall).
 Drawing 03·20·2019 No.1, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches  Drawing 03·20·2019 No.2, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches I continue to react to "Doublethink". You can see a couple of reactions by viewing yesterday's drawings. No.1 is thick and close-packed, No.2 is more open with just one large form on its left and interweaving forms as contrast on its right. This complex game I am playing with myself is me unravelling my own doublethink. I am looking for a home.
 "Doublethink" (2019 No.3, state 1), oil on canvas, 58x58 inches {"Doublethink means the power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one's mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them." -George Orwell, "Nineteen Eighty Four" (1949)} My methodology is more multi-think than Doublethink. This concerns me. I worry I see in a complicated and complex manner. I worry this makes it difficult to communicate through my art. Am I allowing myself to solve the needs of an image by multitasking the image? Instead, should I be simplifying my images toward their basic instincts? When I began the new painting, "Doublethink", I had ambition; I wanted restrict it to two contradictory and contrasting forms. Obviously this did not happen in state 1. You can see "Doublethink" as two contrasting areas; the left playing with rectangular in/out rotational vigor, the right with rounded up/down spinning-top-like verticality. I am not sure I will work on "Doublethink" again today. I need its complexity to percolate within/without me. There is a very complex drawing on my drawing board right now. It waits for me to solve it, to finish it off. I began this drawing with thoughts similar to those I began "Doublethink". My thoughts were similar in their simplicity-seeking. The drawing ran away toward a self-imposed complex solution. It feels self-imposed by the drawing, but of course it is me. It is me who is self-trained to see this way. This morning, in my effort to question my complexity, I purchased a sketch book. I hope it will help me resolve my issues with myself. I will use the sketch book to experiment with different ways to tackle by complex-seeing personality. I believe I am in need of simplification. I could be wrong.
 "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2, state 11), oil on canvas, 60x32 inches {"Life is sweet at the edge of a razor; And down in the front row of an old picture show the old man is asleep as the credits start to roll. And I want to know, the same thing everyone wants to know, how's it going to end?" -Tom Waits} Yesterday a lot happened to "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2). It broke toward clarity! This surprised me. I was going along, trying this, thinking that, doubting myself, slogging along, then suddenly came a moment when clarity descended like rain from a cloud. It began to make sense. This is normal for me. Accepting this as normalcy is important. It buoys my ability to hang-in there, do the slog. The great thing is this: I now believe in my own consistency; I trust in my ability to find the wherewithal to get to the insight that will release me from doubt and discomfort. Yesterday it happened to "How's It Gonna End".
Also, yesterday I prepared a new canvas. It sits waiting on my work wall. I know its size and I know its name. I give it to you now while it sits in state zero (no image need be reproduced): "Doublethink" (2019 No.3), oil on canvas, 58x58 inches {"Doublethink means the power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one's mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them." -George Orwell, "Nineteen Eighty Four" (1949)}  "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2, state 10), oil on canvas, 60x32 inches {"Life is sweet at the edge of a razor; And down in the front row of an old picture show the old man is asleep as the credits start to roll. And I want to know, the same thing everyone wants to know, how's it going to end?" -Tom Waits} I have an idea, an insight! There is a solution in front of me; "How's It Gonna End" is gonna end! That is a very good thing. It is very good because I had been working in an unfathomable dark mood. Confusion pervaded me. I needed a solution. I needed something that worked. I needed something that felt right. I needed clarity. Now I tell you the best thing about being an artist: Solutions exist! A solution brings the feeling of clarity. Clarity brings the feeling of self-worth. Is it all a sham? It does not matter. It doesn't matter because feeling good, feeling optimistic, is not a sham. It is real!
 Drawing 03·14·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Last night I awoke at 4am. I usually sleep quite well, with tons of dreams, but rarely do I awake with questions and self-doubt. Last night I did. Where can I do better? I have not worked on the painting "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2) for a week. Also, I want to move onto a new painting, but doubt surrounds me; I have been stepping carefully, looking out for poop. My being awake last night informed me: it is time to move boldly. Here comes creativity! Today I will return to "How's It Gonna End". Yesterday's drawing, last night's disturbance, and my recent lack of initiative on "How's It Gonna End"... all of this spells time for me to leap, or die! How does yesterday's drawing come into this? It is the left side of yesterday's drawing that is informative. It is the right side of the painting "How's It Gonna End" that requires a big fix. Information for the fix is in the left of yesterday's drawing.
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