Category: Form

Positively Negative

3/29/2019

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

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Rotrouenge

2/1/2019

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)

In the Middle Ages, the rotrouenge (Old French) or retroencha (Old Occitan) was a recognised type of lyric poetry, although no existing source defines the genre clearly. There are four conserved troubadour poems, all with refrains and three by Guiraut Riquier with music, that are labelled retronchas in the chansonniers. Six rotrouenges survive, but only one with music, and four of them are attributed to one trouvère, Gontier de Soignies.

Medieval Occitan treatises state that the retroencha always has a refrain, but modern scholars have found no other distinguishing characteristic. Pioneering work in singling out and identifying the rotroencha was made by Alfred Jeanroy. In the twentieth century, the German scholars Friedrich Gennrich and Hans Spanke developed two distinct theories about the textual and melodic form of the rotrouenge, implicitly suggesting in the process that some of the few specimens of lyric labelled as such in the manuscripts are in fact mis-labelled and do not represent the rotrouenge. The French scholar Jean Frappier noted that "we are not absolutely sure that we have any authentic specimens of the rotrouenge", indicating that by the time the term came into use in the late twelfth century it was no more than an archaism ("an attractive old term" in the words of Hendrik van der Werf) and that the original genre may have lost its distinct identity.

Reaction to Insight

1/31/2019

Drawing 01·30·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches

Insight comes in many varieties. Sometimes it is self-induced. Often it occurs because I see something in my environment that indicates there is a better way. My environment includes people and books and history and magazines and blogs and reproductions of art and memories of the art I love. The drawing I show today is me reacting to the forms in my painting "The Doctrine of Liberty". This drawing is insightful. It occurred because I was seeking a means to muster maximum strength from the forms in "The Doctrine of Liberty" — particularly the major letter-G-like form in the left half. Yesterday's blog post referred to Pablo Picasso. Picasso once remarked that he had tried so many disparate means to make a painting that generations of artists would use his loose ends. This has happened to me. Yesterday I showed Picasso's painting "Figures at the Seaside". In it the forms are not simply rounded, as some of my larger forms tend to be; the forms in "Figures at the Seaside" have hard, soft, and rounded edges. This painting gave me insight, as do other works by Picasso that deal with abstract forms that resemble the kind of forms I tend to generate. You can see it in the drawing I show you today. Below I attach a couple other works by Picasso that investigate the means to animate three-dimensional forms.

Pablo Picasso, "Seated Bather on the Beach", oil on canvas, 163x129.5 cm, 1929

Pablo Picasso, "Bather", 1929

An End to Litigiousness?

1/16/2019

Drawing 01·15·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

Rules have been made because history has been made. I grew up with intense interest in visual arts, especially painting and drawing, I studied art history. I looked for models. I looked for information. I gathered it, assiduously and thoroughly. Here I am, playing differently than any model I have ever seen in art history, or in contemporary art. I am myself. Yet, I have not rid myself of the laws I learned from art history and from art school studies. Yesterday's drawing is amazing in its play with form, composition, mark-making, value-contrast, atmospheric and local effects; but it has a deep foundation in the stuff that came before. Is this good or bad? That is a question I continue to answer. This is the process! I have established myself as myself. Now I question the validity of my answers. I am wondering, "Is this drawing remarkable because it plays with rules I invented myself?" OR "Is this drawing just another variation on the rules I have been given by those who made art before me?" Question #2: "Does it matter?" I need to know. Thus I proceed.

Splendid Table

12/7/2018

Drawing 12·06·2018, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

Three million strokes and counting.... Yesterday's drawing celebrates the marking of a white piece of paper with graphite from a pencil. Later yesterday, as I rested reading in my living room, my arm let me know it had been taxed. I had been enjoying finding forms, finding surface, finding space, finding light, and finding composition! This simultaneity-filled activity is a celebration of mindfulness. The more I do it the longer I can sustain it! This is "practice", as defined by veteran meditators. The Buddha would be proud of me! I have not obtained Buddhahood, but I am moving in that direction.

Shravasti Dhammika, a Theravada monk, writes:

In the centuries after his final Nibbāna it sometimes got to the stage that the legends and myths obscured the very real human being behind them and the Buddha came to be looked upon as a god. Actually, the Buddha was a human being, not a 'mere human being' as is sometimes said but a special class of human called a 'complete person' (mahāparisa). Such complete persons are born no different from others and indeed they physically remain quite ordinary.

— "Buddhahood", from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

A Question for Philosophy

11/15/2018

Drawing 11·14·2018, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches

Approach can swing from fully intellectual to fully emotional. The sweet-spot must be somewhere in-between. The sweet-spot is not-too-soft, not-too-hard, but just-right; yes it is something Goldilocks would enjoy!

Yesterday's drawing consumed my entire studio time. That drawing is intricate and it is thoughtful, but it felt dry in-the-making. This drawing was born mostly from my intellect and less from my emotions. Does it fail the viewer because it is not fully human? This is my worry. Living well, making art well, both are not fully intellectual nor fully emotional. Art, if done well, contains a balance of intellect and emotion. So how do I do this in a way that fully represents me? Perhaps, if this drawing were a bit different it would be more emotionally successful. For instance, if the form on the bottom right were larger, would its contrast create emotional stress through a dramatic emotional juxtaposition of forms? Instead it is so well balanced as to be comfortably numb. I do not want to represent this drawing as poor, or inadequate. It is an excellent drawing; but it just does not speak with a striking amount emotional energy. I want more.

OK, I know how to put together a nicely balanced composition, one that is intellectually satisfying. Again; I want more! I want to see the stresses of existence in my art; the push and pull between my intellect and my emotions. The quest is truth and representation of the authentic consequence of living. I am getting closer. Writing, as I am today, is a call for my instigating a great effort to move closer to full satisfaction, me delivering a performance that fully and completely represents all I feel and know. (Beethoven's Ninth Symphony come to mind!)

The Sense in Sensibilty

10/28/2018

"Burnt Norton" (2018 No.8, state 19), oil on canvas, 63x66 inches {"What might have been is an abstraction; Remaining a perpetual possibility; Only in a world of speculation. What might have been and what has been point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory." -T.S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton"}

Drawing 10·27·2018, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

Jumping into a pit of obstacles, hazards and rewards, is the means to success in sport and in art-making. I found I can act well when challenged by multiple possibilities, some leading to success, some leading to failure. This is problem solving. This is the activity of art-making. This is the activity of sport. Art is engineering and athletics combined. It is physical, and it is mental. Yesterday I leaped into a drawing. For a while I felt lost. I had created many possibilities. For a while it felt confusing and chaotic. There were moments when I thought it best to abandon the drawing. I did not. I was rewarded. I found order within the chaos I had launched. This success by challenge is a great thing; it brings vitality. If the result is success, then trust in one's abilities are bolstered. More challenge will follow. It is a practice I will continue.

Burnt Norton is now very close to complete. The tweak is on! Burnt Norton shall now be completed with minor alterations in color, line, and form.

Subtle too Subtle

9/23/2018

Drawing 09·22·2018, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

One more worry: Is my work too complicated, too subtle? Is it beyond the grasp of most viewers? I see visual connections across wide expanses of canvas and paper. I do not think I am deluding myself. Yesterday's drawing does work well. There is a solid core, there are rhythms and rhymes, there is movement and motion, there is value contrast, there are a large variety of forms, there is light, there is structural integrity. So, why is it not a hit? I believe it does hit well. Then why are viewers not begging that it be put in public venues? What are they not begging to see it up close and personal? Art that speaks truth should be seen. Perhaps Vincent Van Gogh wondered the same.

In yesterday's blog I quoted a New York Times article from March 22, 1992. The following paragraph, from the same article, is relevant to my worries of today:

"Cezanne's career might have been as grim as Van Gogh's -- and as short -- had he not been the son of a banker and, ultimately, his heir. As it is, his progress from clumsy Expressionism to a sublime fusion of the monumental and the ethereal has attracted scholars from Roger Fry to Meyer Schapiro and John Rewald." (from the New York Times article, ART; How Cezanne Evokes a Bach Fugue, published March 22, 1992)

Ubiquitous

9/12/2018

"Burnt Norton" (2018 No.8, state 2), oil on canvas, 55.5x66 inches {"What might have been is an abstraction; Remaining a perpetual possibility; Only in a world of speculation. What might have been and what has been point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory." -T.S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton"}

Drawing 09·11·2018, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

I am all over this. Incredible to me, the creator, this game of making-art is in control. My knowledge can be plucked from everywhere; it surrounds me; my brain is on fire; omnipresent are ideas that can be identified as true. This does not make my task faster, easier. In fact the road just got bumpier; my speed has slowed because there is so much I can do with every mark I make. It is much more than marks. It is composition and form and light and color and repetition and pattern et cetera et cetera. Crazy full of possibilities but also crazy specific with solutions that actually make sense. Solutions that speak truly, speak authentically, are several and few. Finding them is my task.

Greatly Pursued!

7/27/2018

Drawing 07·26·2018, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches

It is simply a great drawing. You have to see it to believe it! My work is hitting harder in all the ways art should hit a viewer. Yesterday's drawing is substantive; emotive in texture, emotive in form, emotive in composition, emotive in light and in darkness. One dictionary definition of texture is "the character or appearance of a fabric as determined by the arrangement and thickness of its threads." This happens in Drawing 07·26·2018, except the threads are replaced with pencil marks. Wow & Zow! Sticking with it makes sense. Even the most unlikely of avenues, when followed with ardor and passion, result in excellent results. I quote again Oliver Wendall Holmes: "Every calling is great when greatly pursued."

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