 Drawing 07·30·2022, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches Biomorphism, and humor, are alive and well within me/without me. Dig it!
 Drawing 04·24·2021, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Yesterday was a fun day. Spring is here, it was warm, sunny, what not to like? This is my offering from the fun within myself. This drawing feels good, looks happy, I am glad.
 "Clever Liars" (2020 No.1, state 05), oil on canvas, 56½x45¼ inches {"Clever liars give details, but the cleverest don't!" - anonymous} I am beginning to understand. My paintings are bon mots. They are witticisms thrust upon the world, each an equivoque of reality. Everything I make has more than one meaning. The very idea of creating a three-dimensional image on a two-dimensional canvas is an equivoque, having two meanings, 3D-space and 2D-space playing upon one another, having two simultaneous meanings. Some may call my ambiguity of space more akin to malapropism; is it not incorrect to create the artifice of the third-dimension on a flat surface? The pun, also called paronomasia, is a form of word play that exploits multiple meanings of a term, or of similar-sounding words, for an intended humorous or rhetorical effect. These ambiguities can arise from the intentional use of homophonic, homographic, metonymic, or figurative language. A pun differs from a malapropism in that a malapropism is an incorrect variation on a correct expression, while a pun involves expressions with multiple (correct or fairly reasonable) interpretations. Puns may be regarded as in-jokes or idiomatic constructions, especially as their usage and meaning are usually specific to a particular language or its culture.  Drawing 10·30·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches Mindfulness is filled with humor. Too much reflection on one's origin, or one's end, lends somberness to existence. The fleetingness of existence is humorous; our existence is devoid of eternal consequence. I would be relentlessly somber without humor. I do not like somberness. Life's quickness contains glory, pain, and process. I am choosing to add humor. I will not be forever intelligent and emotive because I am a minute collection of star stuff, Big Bang stuff; I am basic matter and energy. Skill is a curse. It is a responsibility. It opens enormous possibilities. It allows for successful communication. It is painful when neglected or used unwisely. Today you can see me questioning the possibilities of skillfulness; you can see it in the drawing I post today. In humor come my questions. I also post a cartoon. It illustrates human misunderstanding of skill. True skill is rare. Skill exists because its possessor has expanded his/her consciousness. Using skill well allows for depth of meaning, but skill can be used badly to shallowly exhibit sheer bravado.   Drawing 09·10·2019 No.1, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches  Drawing 09·10·2019 No.2, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches  Drawing 09·10·2019 No.3, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches  "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?
 Drawing 01·22·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches Am I too complicated? Will it be impossible for me to melt my perception down into a simple image? Do I challenge the viewer, and myself, with complications? Am I creating obstacles that prevent easy comprehension? OR, do I have so much to say that there is no way to say it simply?
This dilemma definitely does not have an easy answer. Yesterday's drawing took hours to find and to complete. It was good exercise. I am better for it. I am stronger. As I look at it now I wonder on its message. Does it say profound ideas that are me? I want to be seen for who I am. I want to reveal my concerns, my joys, my sense of humor, my reality. I fear death and I fear life. Am I making myself clear?  "Seriously?" (2018 No.11, state 11), oil on canvas, 49.8x62.5 inches {"All higher humor begins with ceasing to take oneself seriously." - Hermann Hesse, "Reflections", ed. Volker Michels, 1974}  Drawing 12·20·2018, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches Growth comes with confusions. Most confusions, most problems, are rectified through work. I have this worry, "Am I able to keep all my lessons learned, those things I have rectified through work, available to my present consciousness?" Yesterday's drawing has element of silliness. It was pleasant for me to go that way. Today, looking at that drawing, I muse amusingly, "Silly me!" Lesson learned: This one is silliness too far. The hand-like object was made in jest, but it removes the viewer from this drawing's formalistic wonder. This drawing is glorious in compositional play. Its merits get lost because it took the extreme risk of referencing an obvious human trait. This distracts too much; it is not as successful as it might have been. Lesson learned!
Yesterday's work on the painting, Seriously?, is proof of lesson learned. Seriously? is now enlightened by acceptance of atmospheric color. There are many way of holding a painting together; this atmospheric color thing is one great technical method toward coherence.  "Seriously?" (2018 No.10, state 3), oil on canvas, 48.5x61.5 inches {"All higher humor begins with ceasing to take oneself seriously." - Hermann Hesse, "Reflections", ed. Volker Michels, 1974} This is like pulling nails out of woodwork. Position is not always apparent. How can one function well within the quest for profundity if one does not have a sense of humor when pursuing mundane activities? And so it goes! Is that a chess piece on the right of "Seriously?"? Seriously? Does it take two question marks to end a sentence with a title that has a question mark? Seriously?
 "Seriously?" (2018 No.10, state 1), oil on canvas, 48.5x61.5 inches {"All higher humor begins with ceasing to take oneself seriously." - Hermann Hesse, "Reflections", ed. Volker Michels, 1974} The advance continues! This morning I visited my studio — very early in the morning (I always visit a couple hours before work in order to turn on the heat). I looked at my new painting, now in state 1 with its ice-blue paint-stick scrawls. It is humorous! It is a twisted reference to reality! It is a departure from my recent works, which have been relatively serious. It is me saying, "What the hell! Just animate the thing!" Perhaps this is a new beginning, or perhaps it is an interlude. I don't care. It looks good to me; it looks right! It began with vigor and celebration; I hope this painting will continue in this mood of joy, celebration, and humor. Appropriately, I have named this painting after a quote from Hermann Hesse, the Nobel Prize winning author of Siddhartha, "All higher humor begins with ceasing to take oneself seriously." Thus, the painting 2018 No.10 has this title: Seriously?
 "Adjective" (2018 No.4, state 1), oil on canvas, 62x57 inches {"As to the Adjective: when in doubt, strike it out." - Mark Twain, "Pudd'nhead Wilson" (1894) chapter 11}  Drawing 06·03·2018, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches I have, throughout my life, been a voracious reader of Mark Twain. Why? I think we share much in our views of life and the characters within our living, i.e. our relationships with men, women, and animals. To mitigate the difficulties, we both find relief in humor. Today I show my newest painting, Adjective, named after a line from Mark Twain's Pudd'nhead Wilson.
The drawing shown today is a massive effort of pencil on paper. Regrettably the extreme nuances of pencil, as seen in actual front of the viewer, cannot be reproduced well. Value variations, from black through all the grays to the white of paper, sing songs only fully appreciated in person. To satisfy fully, this need of personal, actual in-front-of experience, is true in all sophisticated arts, from music to the visual; A lament Mark Twain might relate to when thinking of his personal performances (before audiences) near the end of his life. |
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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
September 2023
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