"Sentence" (2019 No.4, state 7), oil on canvas, 37x61.5 inches {"And you’d spend years trying to decipher the sentence, until finally you’d understand it. But after a while you’d realize you got it wrong, and the sentence meant something else entirely." - Tadeusz Dąbrowski, from the poem "Sentence"} I have to pull back from doing. I need to take time; let it go, internalize.
"Gunfire Across My Consciousness" (2019 No.5, state 3), oil on canvas, 47x30.5 inches {"My mind is just like a spin-dryer at full speed; my thoughts fly around my skull... Images gunfire across my consciousness... I jump in awe at the soul-filled bounty of my mind's expanse." -Christopher Nolan, Irish Writer on his reasons for writing "The Eye of the Clock", in November 8, 1987 "Observer"} Two days ago I did these. The images in today's post I find surprising. The drawings have humor and gravity. These are reconsiderations. Who am I?
"Gunfire Across My Consciousness" (2019 No.5), oil on canvas, 47x30.5 inches {"My mind is just like a spin-dryer at full speed; my thoughts fly around my skull... Images gunfire across my consciousness... I jump in awe at the soul-filled bounty of my mind's expanse." -Christopher Nolan, Irish Writer on his reasons for writing "The Eye of the Clock", in November 8, 1987 "Observer"} Making art is making the unexpected. You never know what you are going to get. Oy vey, that sounds like Forrest Gump: "My momma always said, 'Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get.'" Yesterday's efforts surprised me. I fell into them as one falls into the scramble to get upright after being hit by a large ocean wave. It is the work to get upright, to breathe comfortably. Security is the issue. This is my struggle to get out of danger. I will always feel insecure. I will always be making an effort to make it better.
Now to a little technical information: I began yesterday's drawing to study the spatial perception I created in the painting, Gunfire Across My Consciousness. It is about the space under the form moving from the lower right as it moves diagonally up and over the central form. It creates a bridge with one abutment being the central form. I am fascinated by the negative three-dimensional space it creates, like perceiving the gap between a bridge and the surface of the water below it. "Gunfire Across My Consciousness" (2019 No.5), oil on canvas, 47x30.5 inches {"My mind is just like a spin-dryer at full speed; my thoughts fly around my skull... Images gunfire across my consciousness... I jump in awe at the soul-filled bounty of my mind's expanse." -Christopher Nolan, Irish Writer of his reasons for writing "The Eye of the Clock", in November 8, 1987 "Observer"} Astute readers of my blog will notice the title of my newly begun painting has changed, from yesterday's intended title to today's actual title. I introduce to you, Gunfire Across My Consciousness. Technically it is oil on canvas. However, the drawing on the canvas is oil based markers, colors copper and gold. Never before have I used oil-based markers to begin a painting. Never before have l used the colors copper or gold. The thought is this: My inculcated ideas must be challenged. Hence comes oil markers, copper and gold, and the methodology used to begin this painting. The methodology is not simple alteration of technique, it is change in attitude. I challenge myself. My mind acts quickly, feels quickly. I made an effort to hang in there during its making, I allowed the marks to happen like gunshots hitting the canvas, straight out of the avalanche that is my mind's activity. (See below the full quote from Christopher Nolan's interview, published in the November 8, 1987 issue of the Observer.) "My real motive is to describe how my brain-damaged life is as normal for me as my friends able-bodied life is to them. My mind is just like a spin-dryer at full speed; my thoughts fly around my skull while millions of beautiful words cascade down into my lap. Images gunfire across my consciousness and while trying to discipline them I jump in awe at the soul-filled bounty of my mind's expanse. Try then to imagine how frustrating it is to give expression to that avalanche in efforts of one great nod after the other." Work is required. That's all I got. My anxiety surrounding the work I am required to do is very present. Yesterday's drawing is a good one, but it also has a lot of open space, a lot of negative space. Do each of those negative spaces sing their propers notes, notes that radiate emotion and intellectual satisfaction? Blank spaces bring fear; they scarily call for resolution, either by mind or mark. Yesterday I chose mind over mark. Successful? I think I will go the other way today. I want to see which way is more satisfactory, open spaces filled by the mind, or mark filled spaces filled by a road map of specks and speckles.
The Irish writer, Christopher Nolan (born 1965, not the well known British screenwriter) said, when speaking of the reasons for writing The Eye of the Clock, "My real motive is to describe how my brain-damaged life is as normal for me as my friends able-bodied life is to them. My mind is just like a spin-dryer at full speed; my thoughts fly around my skull while millions of beautiful words cascade down into my lap. Images gunfire across my consciousness and while trying to discipline them I jump in awe at the soul-filled bounty of my mind's expanse. Try then to imagine how frustrating it is to give expression to that avalanche...." Today I begin a new painting, which will be entitled, "Gunfire Across My Consciousness". Dredging truth from the bottom of my Atman is difficult; not easy because the sedimentary truth is ridiculously enigmatic, obscured by layers of steps and missteps. Then there was yesterday. I made a great effort to dredge truth. It was good practice. I opened myself to possibilities, left behind some of my self-inflicted education. This is practice, like meditation. The more I do it the easier it is; the more I do it the better I recognize my missteps and my false narratives.
Another thing happened. I have been complaining of frustration. In my 9/1/2019 blog post I wrote, "My frustration is obvious. I have never fully accepted Jackson Pollock's ultimate work as good work. To me, the drip paintings look born from frustration. I always wanted my work to be born from knowledge and skill. Perhaps I need to wake up, accept frustration as useful." A friend wrote to me: "...your art is the product of frustration. When you quit being frustrated you will take happily to the hammock on the porch, beer in hand, spinning yarns to the birds. By the way, they won't listen and you won't care. Seriously, do you think for a moment that El Greco wasn't angry, disturbed, thoroughly riddled with frustration?" Right On! I am surprised. I feel wonderment. Where is this stuff coming from? Am I naïve, or am I a simpleton who is easily fooled, easily surprise? I have done this long enough to distinguish valid from bogus. Perhaps I am bottom-feeding, dredging the sludge of my Atman. This is my hope! Yesterday's drawings are different. They are informative, but are they emotionally and intellectually meaningful? I plug on. atman | ˈätmən | (also Atman) noun Hinduism the spiritual life principle of the universe, especially when regarded as inherent in the real self of the individual. "Sentence" (2019 No.4, state 5), oil on canvas, 37x61.5 inches {"And you’d spend years trying to decipher the sentence, until finally you’d understand it. But after a while you’d realize you got it wrong, and the sentence meant something else entirely." - Tadeusz Dąbrowski, from the poem "Sentence"} My frustration is obvious. I have never fully accepted Jackson Pollock's ultimate work as good work. To me, the drip paintings look born from frustration. I always wanted my work to be born from knowledge and skill. Perhaps I need to wake up, accept frustration as useful. Looking back is painful, distracting. Acting in the present, unencumbered by the past, is difficult if not impossible. I am trying to be mindful. I am trying to release myself from everything but now. Emptying my mind of distractions does not mean throwing out experiences. The accumulation of actions are a burden. Experiences teach, but sometimes falsely instruct. The confusion, the distraction, is distinguishing true from disingenuous. There must be a little vault, deep within, that is the true self; it is covered with experiential observations. I seek to expose my true self. I do not relish, or find fault, in my past. Despite my feeling confused by my knowledge and experiences, yesterday's work did feel good. Knowledge and experience is useful. The drawing and painting I show today are built upon past works; they are products in my struggle to be true. |
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April 2024
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