These drawing are my statement for today. I have much work to do to pare myself down to direct emotive, intellectual, satisfactory works of Art. To see something that accomplish that for which I strive... look below at Sophie Taeuber-Arp, “Vertical-Horizontal Composition”, 1916 (from this week's THE NEW YORKER Magazine). Lately I have been wasting a lot of pencil strokes. They have not been worth it, except for one truth revealed: Making marks is not as important as making a dynamic composition.
Yesterday's drawing reveals personal deception. Yesterday's simple drawing strikes me as one of my best. You will see a lot of pencil strokes on the drawings in my previous two blog posts, particularly the drawing posted on 10/30/2021. If Jean-Michel Basquiat's painting, the one I posted on 10/24/2021, teaches me anything, it is composition dynamism is obviously more important than strokes of pencil or brush. Comparisons in Art are difficult; Art's range of content runs the gamut of human emotions. Today I give you a comparison of my drawing from yesterday to a painting by Jean-Michel Basquiat (1960-1988). This is not an easy comparison. To me, it is apt; it represents my struggle to be true to myself. I am drawn to Basquiat's extreme, forceful content, but... I am me and he is he. The one simple and obvious connection I make with this Basquiat painting is its organization. Basquiat slams you into its center panel; he grabs the the viewer with color contrast, as well as formal centering because of content that are complex and patterned shapes. Basquiat painting is a lesson in classical compositional organization. There is no getting around the effectiveness that is centering the viewer's attention through any means possible, which include large forms, strong color, obvious shapes, interesting patterns, and high value contrast. I do not need to write anything. This drawing is manageable, straightforward, like the art of Agnes Martin. It is getting scary. The drawing I present today is undeniably deep and profound. That's the scary part. This drawing's in-your-face centerness insists you look, not look away. When is scope and depth undeniable? Take a look at Alberto Giacometti's "Diego" (below). That is one answer in addition to the one I give you in my drawing. Look and hang; you will discover yourself. On his deathbed, at 88 years of age, Michelangelo complained, "Why must I go now? I am just learning the alphabet of my profession." I do worry. I seek perfect clarity. What I seek is better proclaimed as pellucidity. Pellucidity is difficult, if not impossible, to achieve in one's lifetime. Pellucidity is defined as "lucid in style or meaning; easily understood." I strive to be lucid. I make Art. Always I walk away from my products knowing full success has not quite been achieved, Yes, but... I can, and I must, become pellucid.
Yesterday's drawing was better than the two that preceded it. Is it perfect, correct, pellucid? No way! Today I go back in search of my clarity. I seek intellectual and emotional pellucidity. I want pellucidity to inhabit my works of Art. Aristotle wrote, "Style to be good must be clear.... Clearness is secured by using the words that are current and ordinary." In Song of Myself, Walt Whitman states, "He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher." And here I am. I have learned from my teacher (Philip Guston). I have now removed all his idiosyncratic ideas from my works. I did not destroy him, as Whitman suggests I do, but I have moved away from him, I have created my own style. Clearness is an issue with me. I am working toward strong personal engagement with my viewers. Aristotle's idea is important to me, i.e., use of ordinary language is necessary to clarity. For me, the visual artist, ordinary language is visual art's most basic principles and elements. The most basic language of art is non-representative; it is color, form, composition, surface, value, et cetera. Basic visual art language also contains imagery because it has form and it contains the artifice of light. The viewer may call this "Representative Imagery," but I do not want to dilute meaning in art by representing something perceived in the real world. I have destroyed one idea of Philip Guston's. Guston's late work, it allegiance to simple, Representative Imagery, is the distraction I have destroyed. It must be destroyed because it hinders perception of the actual expressive quality that resides in the basic language of visual art. Yesterday's drawing exhibits an exploration of surface, surface as a flow of light and space. As I made this drawing I thought of Mark Rothko's work. Rothko's clarity was his reduction; his painting are reduced to expressive play on surface and light. "Honorable Terms" (2021 No.7, state 7), oil on canvas, 52x57⅞ inches, {"The roots of reason are imbedded in feelings — feelings that have formed and accumulated and developed over a lifetime of personality-shaping. These feelings are not a source of weakness but a resource of strength. They are not there for occasional using but are inescapable. To know what we think, we must know how we feel. It is feeling that shapes belief and forms opinion. It is feeling that directs the strategy of argument. It is our feelings, then, with which we must come to honorable terms." - James E. Miller, Jr., "Word, Self, Reality: The Rhetoric of Imagination" (1972)} I didn't know! Who knew? Not me! I am in search for personal monuments. One of my greatest influencers is Henry Moore. I adore his work. I have always been intrigued by Moore great, monolithic, monumental sculptures. Henri Matisse said an artist should look at one's earliest works as he searches for self; in doing so the artist discovers his natural affinities and purpose. I believe the most important education for the artist is reflection upon one's earliest impactful, intensely emotional responses to visual discoveries. Yesterday's work on the painting, "Honorable Terms", altered this painting from a mess of form and light to a monument to form and light. "Honorable Terms" now reflects personal centering. Yesterday's work was mindful discovery linked to personal, emotional responsiveness. "Honorable Terms" is now a monumental, intellectual success. "Gonna Speak to the Crowd" (2021 No.5, state 10), oil on canvas, 62¾x57⅜ inches, {"I'm gonna spare the defeated — I'm gonna speak to the crowd. I'm gonna spare the defeated, boys, I'm going to speak to the crowd. I am goin' to teach peace to the conquered. I'm gonna tame the proud." - Bob Dylan, "Lonesome Day Blues" (2001)} I am not happy with the way this is going. Is "Gonna Speak to the Crowd" getting away from me? I am concerned about centering. Is this painting reluctant to find center? I am working to find center, but trouble continues. I am concerned. Engaging by simplicity has been difficult. Is it possible? Can "Gonna Speak to the Crowd" become centered in both personal and compositional realms? I have not given up. Somehow this painting reminds me of a complex painting by Richard Diebenkorn. This type of drawing comes from anxiety. Yesterday nothing seemed right. Mail I sent two days ago got lost in transit (found this morning in Stamford CT, despite it being addressed to Tunbridge VT, just across the river from me). Yesterday afternoon I went to dispose of my trash at our local dump. I returned; I felt something crawling on my neck. I grabbed it in my hand. It was a tick! Where the hell did that come from? I am always careful; I don't even walk on grass! Ticks around here carry scary diseases. Yesterday's drawing is a dark, marvelous drawing. I believe Mark Rothko would have liked it. I could not find a place to sign it on the image side of this drawing; I signed on the back. |
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April 2024
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