As if this Holiday Season isn't confusing enough — enter our house an odor so foul. Certainly from a mouse who got lost. I did not find him. Looking for him, cleaning up after him, took my day away. I am telling you this because there will be no post tomorrow.
Yesterday's drawings were instructive and important. I believe them to be high in quality. I also believe they are a prelude to my next painting. I feel I am in a funnel, rolling around, falling toward more accurate ideas. Through effort the solutions are more and more authentic. Clarification and authenticity are products of experiment after experiment.
I have been distracted by the demands of western culture's Holiday Season. It does not feel right. I have so many ideas, but my time has been limited by what, celebration? I want to live long and prosper. Perhaps I complain too much.
Where am I on this path to right and clear? From the looks of these drawings, I am searching for a landscape to live within. I enjoy individual objects cavorting and interacting with one another. It is a social world, so why not decipher it through the examination of invented persona-like forms playing amongst and with one another? To go a step further, in order to answer my own question, I will show an influence. Certain works of Adolph Gottlieb's remain vividly within me. These illustrate my attraction to multiple forms on the page. (One of Gottlieb's paintings is reproduced below.)
Yesterday I complained about the season, the Holidays; too much time soaked from me, time going to things other than art-making. Well, these drawings aren't bad. So maybe my lack of time brings with it increased focus on the less-than-ususal art-making I am doing.
Snow comes, I shovel it away. I walk through the path I made. I get the newspaper. It has to be done. The day demands more than art-making. Yes, and I have to eat. I am involved with stuff from the outside of myself. This is important, but let me complain too. There is too much to do, especially this time of year. It is Holiday time, plus it is snow and ice time. I have not had enough art-making time. Still, the ideas keep coming in. I keep rolling along. All kinds of things impinge on my psyche. Yesterday's drawing is very interesting to me. It foreshortens, influenced as I was by the drawings of Jack Kirby, which were shown to me by a friend, a relative of Jack Kirby.
I have always yearned, aspired to be, a sensitive soul. The drawings of the last few days may indicate "I am". How do I know? There is proof in the pudding. This pudding tastes good. It sings the song of sensitivity, at least in its touch. Where is this going? Not for me to know!
It just keeps happening. Endless it is because I am unable to exhaust myself. There is pleasure in exhaustion. Such gladness is caused by self-gratifying accomplishment. Sometimes I can indulgently rest when I feel I deserve it. I am not there yet. Yesterday's painting, and drawings, were unusual. The drawings are sparse, more lightly drawn. The painting has unusual color combinations, forms are flattened while sitting in three-dimensional space.
Work is work. You show up. You do. The mystery is my reaction to all things present and past. Intuition is built on study, contemplation, activity; yes, intuition is a product of work. I find myself in the throws of intuition. It feels discomfiting. Is it befuddlement? Or just me in new territory? I have to trust because all I consciously know is the path feels right within my questions: "Yes?" or "Maybe yes?" It is alright to be here.
I know. In today's title, the word "something" is misspelled. That incorrect word is made of "sum" and "thin", which are both appropriate to yesterday's drawing. I flattened the background with abstract planes. I constantly look for a direct manner of engagement. This drawing is broken into vertical, roughly rectangular, sections. When I make such a drawing I often think of Mark Rothko's late work. Rothko is one of mid-twentieth century's most successful artists. Rothko's art still resonates with today's viewers. Calendars of his work continue to be BIG sellers. You can not find a calendar with Willem de Koonings paintings, but many are made with Rothko's paintings. I wonder about this, so I occasionally react to it in my drawing, thus my "little sumthin".
I am proceeding in a manner different than ever before. It is the way I do things, at least with my painting. I am re-inventing my process with every painting. I do not feel the same about my drawing. Painting "2016 No.20" is pale. Its values are low. I am casting my way into it with caution.
I began a new painting. The daily work goes on. Is it new and different? Never! But, yesterday's work (including the drawings) has the feel of the work from day before... there is substantiality here. This does feel new and different. As always, I question my predilection to admire my own stuff.
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