 "Tonstant Weader Fwowed Up" (2021 No.10, state 5), oil on canvas, 46¾x61¾ inches, {"And it is that word 'hummy', my darlings, that marks the first place in 'The House at Pooh Corner' at which Tonstant Weader fwowed up." - Dorothy Parker (1893-1967), in "The New Yorker", 20 October 1928, reviewed by Dorothy Parker as "Constant Reader"} I am certainly not coming through the front door on this one. A roundabout is happening. I am journeying through mud and muck, yet I am optimistic; the crap will dry on my shoes, the detritus will fall off, I will discover a better, cleaner home to live in.
The painting, "Tonstant Weader Fwowed Up", may have a humorous title, but it is in the midst of a deadly serious journey. My path is not assured. I am working hard. I know I will get to a better place. Today is a brand new day.  "Measure Anew" (2021 No.9, state 03), oil on canvas, 54½x54⅛ inches, {"I had become a new person; and those who knew the old person laughed at me. The only man who behaved sensibly was my tailor: he took my measure anew every time he saw me, whilst all the rest went in with their old measurements and expected them to fit me." -George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950), "Man and Superman" (1903)}  Drawing 10·10·2021, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches It is never over if you are never satisfied. Two in not enough. No number is enough. I need to live forever.
 Drawing 06·17·2020, graphite on paper, 20x16 inches  "Amidst a Falling World" (2020 No.3, state 13), oil on canvas, 66¼x57¼ inches {"Should the whole frame of nature around him break, In ruin and confusion hurled, He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty crack, And stand secure amidst a falling world." - Horace (65-8BC), "Odes", book 3, no.4, I.52)} I am at a point of departure. I am stepping, not particularly caring where I go, but resolutely. This is not a time for self-judgement. It is time to allow images to be born out of intuition, deep knowing intermingled with angst. All bets are off; all absolutes are off, dependency upon past masters is off. I am just doing it.
I show today images like nothing I have done before; nothing I have seen before. Have you seen anything like these? These works are allowed to exist because they do not crush past knowledge, they enhance it. They are informed by the past, but they step out from it, not from underneath it.  "Something Else Entirely" (2019 No.4, state 17), oil on canvas, 38.5x62.5 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 never promised you a rose garden, but I do promise the gift of quandary; give, take, wonder, and real; loss, gain, glory and pain; questions answered quickly, slowly, perhaps not at all; the thrust of the brush and the quietude of the touch — it is all here for your consumption and for my journey.
Thus we come to state 17 of "Something Else Entirely" (2019 No.4). This one, I fear, is old and new. I wish for always new; that would not fit the narrative of a life led step by step. "Something Else Entirely" is closer to becoming old. I am closer to beginning a new one. The end here will take a few more steps to obtain. I am willing. I am discovering I also am able; I have the ability to discover this painting's requirements, I have the means to make them real, thus bringing this painting to final rest.  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  "Chaos, Stillness & Prayer" (2018 No.9, state 10), 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}  Drawing 02·10·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches The most painful part of being an artist is doubt. Everything completed could have gone a million different ways. Decisions were made along the way that steered each work of art one way or the other. If it went one way, the other is lost. I can never know the other possibility because the moment I finish a work I am newly educated; I think differently than before I began the work. Lost is truly lost, never to be regained. There is no possibility of repeating the moment of inspiration; beginnings are available only once. It is with this feeling of not-knowing, not-knowing other possible outcomes, that I declare the painting "Chaos, Stillness & Prayer" complete.
Drawings have these death moments as well. Yesterday's drawing is excellent, but it is not so distant in my memory, so I wonder about the choices I did not make. Here is where memory heals doubt. Two days from now I will walk in the studio and be very happy with Drawing 02·10·2019. Today I look at it and wonder about the possibilities it did not follow. Not-knowing hurts!  "2017 No.12" (state 4), oil on canvas, 73x58 inches Gnocchi may be surprising, but so is me. I am following a call of nature. A call that comes with dirt and glee. No image is perfect, but every image is informative. My problem is being scared and being scarred are not independent. One cannot unsee that which one has revealed. Being good or bad is not known till the experience is complete. The growth of me is the problem of me. I do not know what I do not know. As revelation occurs I feel my personal intimacy has been enhanced. The process is never enough. I am addicted.    Drawing 04·22·2017, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches The painfulness of being an artist is doing this activity in loneliness. Feedback, good or bad, rarely happens, except from one's own introspection. The problem, the pain of this, comes from distrust of oneself. There are good days and there are bad days. Trust is high, or trust is low. Today I feel good about yesterday's result. I am not saying this is the best of all possible drawings, but I do believe it has merit. The sweetest part of this was in the making. Several times I believed I had misdirected myself. I had to pull a stunt. I forced the drawing back to itself, demanded (as it was) by its own self-revelation. I did it. I made the effort. It eventually made sense. It works for me! This is value. Now I have cash in my brain. It is the currency that buys intuition. I know more, I see better than I did two days ago. Seeing better means the quality of decisions are better because they are better informed. I took two steps forward. The strong feeling of loneliness will come when the inevitable one step backward occurs. I will get through that moment. Then, with effort, I will take two steps forward.
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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
January 2022
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