 Drawing 09·15·2019 No.1, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches  Drawing 09·15·2019 No.2, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches  "Sentence" (2019 No.4, state 8), 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 love onions. They go in everything I make, except brownies. Moly has two definitions: (1) a southern European plant related to the onion, with small yellow flowers. (2) a mythical herb with white flowers and black roots, endowed with magic properties. I'll go with the second definition because my work is becoming magical; in the very least, it is magical to me! I have been working very hard on staying mindfully centered while making art. This is falling into play that is totally dependent on recognizing momentary truth in my marks, my forms, my composition, and my attitude. I am not sure this makes sense to you, but it is making more and more sense to me. The result is me getting closer to a reality that I cannot anticipate, but I recognize as one step in my path to an unknown, but totally legitimate, future. Holy Moly! My art continues to become more self-fulfilling. This continually surprises me. It is a thrilling journey! It is filled with unexpected truth.
Yesterday's drawings hunker down, into the stuff that makes me want to draw. Yesterday's painting took one more step toward its satisfaction. Yesterday, in an email, a friend of mine said he preferred Beethoven's Symphonies to Beethoven's quartets. I am just the opposite. Beethoven's Late Quartets have, to me, immediate potency; they are an intoxicant I measure by the great amount of my emotional responsiveness. I feel the same about several of Schubert's quartets, and also of a few of Brahms' piano trios. My drawings are my quartets. My paintings are my symphonies. When over and done, I love them equally, but the drawings are more directly related to my immediate emotions. I believe this emotional immediacy is the reason I thirst to listen to Beethoven's quartets more than his symphonies. Beethoven's symphonies are fully satisfying, but like a painting, they take much more time, and involvement, to fully realize. I am an anxious and needy sort; my immediate connection to the nuanced emotions in Beethoven's Late Quartets allows me to fall deeply, into a passionate trance.  Drawing 07·09·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches I failed yesterday if simplicity be my goal. It is not! I want the intellectual and emotional satisfaction of complex images and the direct and immediate engagement of simplicity. Ellsworth Kelly achieved great visual impact using simple images. Kelly's work satisfies emotionally and intellectually. His is a great achievement. As much as I envy Kelly's direct route to completely fulfilling art, I am not Ellsworth Kelly; I am myself. My path continues to be discovered, step by currently unknown next step. Yesterday's drawing was such a step. It taught me; I reflect upon it. I want the negative space in my art to be as effective as Ellsworth Kelly was able to achieve in his art.  Ellsworth Kelly, "Untitled", oil on canvas, 1958  Drawing 07·07·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Purification is occurring, but is it right and good? There must be a middle ground that makes sense. I do like intellectual answers brought upon the viewer by asking a complexity of questions. I enjoy darting around an image, looking for sense in nonsense. Open negative space is exhilarating when handled well, when breathtakingly emotional in design. Complexity within the darkness that is shadow and form can also be emotionally breathtaking. Yesterday's drawing is a huge question. I do not pretend it is anywhere near a definitive, archetypal answer.
 Drawing 06·22·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches In life there is struggle to see clearly. The murkiness of people, things, and emotions obscure easy access. Muck, rubbish, and dirt get in the way of truth-telling; clarity is found by consistently pushing the falderal out of one's way. Such is my journey. Reason is not enough. This is slow because the rubbish is much. Yesterday's drawing dealt with this dichotomy. There is left and right; there is heaven and earth. There is darkness and light. The left is shadowed, invokes a search for nuance. The right is easier on the eyes; it invokes simplicity and strength. The monument on the right is clear. The monument on the left struggles to be seen. Both monuments are pyramids, one tall and lean, one fat yet sturdy in its dark surroundings. Obvious, there is play between murkiness & limpidity.
 Drawing 06·21·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Something magical is happening. While in process, as I work, my mind understands. It communicates, disseminates. My art springs directly from core intuition and knowledge, perhaps even emotion is involved. There is caveat, in regard to emotion, because, of the three, it feels most remote. Of the three (intellect, intuition, emotion), emotion is the most difficult for me to visually depict with acuity. This does not surprise me. I am working my way down to the essential me, the instigator of all. Fear and flight, love and hate, passion and desire; emotion is most difficult to depict with lucidity. The more I do this, the more I make-art, the more confident I am; I have the right stuff, the talent, to make it real on canvas and paper. This surprises me. I need longevity to make it fully happen. I know not the path I am on. It is not laid out in front of me. I am required to take one step at a time. The chisel is at work. Each step chips away one more bit of the crap that obscures my truth in being and existence.
Yesterday's drawing is exceptional. It is both playful and serious, light and dark; new forms occupy a classical composition. It is what the world needs now.  Drawing 05·30·2019, 16x20 inches, pencil on paper I have many artistic ambitions. I worry I have too many objectives. I aspire to make art that functions well through many means: value, form, negative space, three-dimensional space, two-dimensional space, composition, and much more. I worry this may lead to confusion. A good work of art must show it itself through initial simplicity. A simple entry entices the viewer to become engaged, to pay attention, to look deeper, to see more. Complication is enriching only if the viewer hangs in there to absorb it. I think yesterday's drawing achieves this fullness; simplicity first, then satisfyingly complicated. This drawing is the last I will frame for my one-person Bromfield Gallery exhibition, opening June 5. Enjoy here! But please, see it in person at Bromfield Gallery. It is better than its reproduction.
 Drawing 05·07·2019, pencil on paper, 16 x20 inches As wonderful as this drawing is, it is NOT all I want. I have been looking; I have been staring at my past drawings. I look, then pick out the ones I find most appealing. The more insistent the 3D spatial introduction the more I feel their emotive power. Today I will make an effort to draw from this need of mine. The 3D space you see in yesterday's drawing is minimal, it is not as robustly 3D-animated as I wish. I want the viewer to be pulled in; I want the viewer to drop into a place filled with interesting and emotive forms. The journey I am on to satisfy this need of mine is endless, but it is my journey.
 Drawing 04·14·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches It took me two days to make this drawing because I did not have the time to do it in one sitting. This time management is caused by the necessity that I frame works for my upcoming exhibition at AVA Gallery. If you follow the link to AVA you would see the announcement on AVA's homepage. Going away from a partially finished drawing, then returning to finish it, is both beneficial and detrimental. Beneficial because it forces introspection upon return to the half finished drawing (I see it afresh; I see it more clearly; I immediately recognize its successes and failures). The detrimental part is me losing track of the original question I asked. In this case, in the drawing I show today, I wanted to inspect the possibilities of vigor in an insistently classically flat composition, one designed to be seen flat in the viewer's face. I often think of the great success Pablo Picasso had using this method in his painting Guernica, which has a central flat, in the viewer's face, triangle, surrounded by two side panels.  Pablo Picasso, "Guernica", oil on canvas, 1937  Drawing 04·02·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches I have been making a strong effort to think simple. I am well aware an obvious relationship between negative and positive space must be the capturing effect that is the ultimate driving force of the first glance. The first glance should capture viewers, rein them in. As complex as yesterday's drawing became, it is simple in its composition. I hope you see that. There is dark on the left, bright on the right, strong vertical movements play against strong forms on the left and the right. This is a masterful drawing. I felt mastery in my process.
 "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 |
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At MEHRBACH.com you may view many of my paintings and drawings, past and present, and see details about my life and work. Archives
October 2019
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