 Drawing 10·09·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches  Drawing 10·08·2019 state 2, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches The resemblances of these two drawings, one from two day's ago and yesterday's, begs me to ask about amnesia. I forget and I remember, then I forget again. This rotation of remembered ideas is useful. All is new if one forgets the past. Surprise is one of the great animators to living the good life. Both drawings play against a white ground, like forms silhouetted by a bright sky. More important to me is spatial navigation. The drawing from two days ago is shown for the second time; it has been updated — this is state 2. It is better than state 1; the spatial force is stronger. A simple change was made: The intersection of the cross-like form connects in a different manner than in the original. I felt this idea needed further exploration. Yesterday's drawing sprung from this query; it immediately followed the fix of the drawing from 10/8/2019. Amnesia was partially at work; I did not wish this. Residue in the mind becomes the element of the question that is answered in the newest work. I would not have followed this path if I had remembered my intentions for that day. I had intended to risk everything, to surprise myself without questioning, simply going for new answers. I failed, but I succeeded by makings a drawing different than I had imagined upon my entering the studio. The best path is found if one steps without knowing exactly where one goes.
 Drawing 10·05·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Showing up is not enough. Recognition of appropriate spirit in the work is most important. This includes stepping back when proper insight in unavailable. There is an ebb and flow to self-comprehension, self-availability, self-intuition, and self-awareness. Recognizing this through the process of art making is the process of recognizing days of clarity and insight versus days of muddle and muck. Fortunately, though work, by showing up, day after day after day, the days with lack of clarity are few. I believe this to be true, but I also acknowledge there are days when I believe I am doing great things until I come in the next day, then I acknowledge more failure than success. This is the reason I believe in two steps forward followed by one step backward. Backward may be the wrong term, because failures lead to introspection, learning, insight; the stuff that guides to success.
Yesterday's drawing was filled with stepping back to query. I kept asking myself, "Does that make sense?" There are parts of this drawing on the edge of believability, like the circle-like shadowing seen in the right side of the drawing. The shadowing lies behind, and within, forms that produce an area of juxtaposition to the rest of the drawing's forms. It works spiritually. Is that enough?  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 09·14·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches  Drawing 09·08·2019 (state 2), pencil & acrylic on paper, 16x20 inches Today's second image is state 2 of Drawing 09·08·2019. Titanium white acrylic paint was used to remove the form that dominated the upper portion of this drawing. I eliminated the meaningless. An error in my ways became apparent, it distracted from the important stuff. I reworked the drawing, I found openness, better use of negative space. White, blankness, absence of form; negative nothingness is absolutely required in order to give significance to positive form.
I have been doing too much. I have been making too many marks and too many forms. Allowing discovery without judgment, brings judgment. This authorizes the unavoidable, this emancipates drawing that represents reality. I had relied too much on models. Reliance on models is weakness that engenders error in judgement. My models are the work of artists I admire, also my own work that I believe successful. I had been obscuring my present by relying on ideas from my past, ideas I had seen and understood. My practice of working in the now, allowing my images to spill onto the page, rather than to be manufactured on the page, is correct. My work must represent my knowing and seeing in the moment I am living. This is the goal of mindful art. This is the goal of mindful mediation: (i) Recognize Emotions, (ii) Accept, (iii) Investigate, (iv) Non-Identify/Detach. The consequence is reality. Yesterday's drawing is me practicing the unavoidable.  Drawing 09·08·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches  "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.  Drawing 08·04·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches Even to me, yesterday's drawing sings a radical message. It conserves Western's Art's intrigue with perspective, yet creates a room-like environment inhabited by a form of many forms. It has little comfortable references to reality. This is pure three-dimensional abstraction, simultaneously conservative and radical. Viewing discomfort abounds! Is it good art? It is what it is: a test, a proving ground, research, and profoundly articulate. This drawing is filled with finesse of touch and of pencil marks. It exudes elegance in form-creation and in composition. Yet, it is disturbingly different; it is different than anything I have imagined prior to its existence. My role is not to judge, but to make, then move on to create some more.
 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 05·23·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Yesterday's drawing centered itself with three various forms; you can follow them up its center. The three-forms culminate in the blimp-like object, which is largest of the three. My struggle to make this drawing took two days despite my marking it as yesterday's. It is about me. The struggle to make it is me. It started simple; it became dark and questioning. This drawing illustrates insistent centering. That is me. I am trying to find a way to center myself as I move through the muck; the muck that is practicality. I am preparing for my Bromfield Gallery Exhibition (paintings & drawing to be delivered June 3). This preparation distracts me from the impetus of my art, i.e., self-discovery.
 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  Drawing 01·31·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches  "Chaos, Stillness & Prayer" (2018 No.9, state 8), oil on canvas, 54x36 inches {"Art has something to do with the achievement of stillness in the midst of chaos. A stillness which characterizes prayer, too, and the eye of the storm.... an arrest of attention in the midst of distraction." -Saul Bellow, "Writers at Work: Third Series", 1967} I will not relent. This is poetry. As poet I continually revisit, alter the script yet conserve the basic idea; My process is consistent enhancement of meaning. That is my job. This work of mine will not become genre, nor will it become extinct. Like Rotrouenge, it is lyrical and has repeated elements that may be called refrains. However, I believe in contrast; the repetition of marks and/or forms is contrasted against the entirety. I also believe my work is mostly similar to Rotrouenge because "...the original genre may have lost its distinct identity." Yesterday I revisited the painting "Chaos, Stillness & Prayer" (2018 No.9). Today I show state 8. It is now essentially complete, yet requires a once-over to affirm its completion. Yesterday's drawing continues my research into hard versus rounded forms. Rotrouenge (from Wikipedia) |
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