 Drawing 04·06·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches  Drawing 04·04·2019 (state 2), pencil on paper, 16x20 inches As sophisticated as these drawings are... I ask, "Are these drawings too complex?" I fear they are too full of activity to be enjoyed simply and quickly. Do viewers enjoy wandering through drawings as abstract as mine? Perhaps a viewer would take their time to observe fully a drawing with many representational cues. I am not sure, so I worry.
The bottom drawing on this page is in its second state. You can compare it to this blog's previous post to see the changes I have made. It is better. The movements within it are more obvious. I am trying to make my ideas more obvious to the viewer. I am hoping the viewer is engaged more easily, more directly, I working to draw the viewer in through instant involvement.  "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2, state 14), oil on canvas, 60x33 inches {"Life is sweet at the edge of a razor; And down in the front row of an old picture show the old man is asleep as the credits start to roll. And I want to know, the same thing everyone wants to know, how's it going to end?" -Tom Waits}  Drawing 03·26·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches Yesterday I left the studio in doubt, full of worry. Am I making exceptional art, or just stuff that will disappear as soon as I disappear? Longevity of an image is a test of its meaningfulness. James Joyce's "Ulysses" will be read as long as humans read. I want my work to sustain itself, I want it to give meaning and knowledge to generations of viewers. I want my work to give others an experience of real, authentic, satisfying, deeply human ideas, ideas to contemplate by the process of seeing. As I thought about my work last night it felt as if my work is difficult, introspective, and slow in comprehension. There was redemption within this doubt. I know I am constantly moving forward; I am consistently making better and better work. Better to me is defined as more profoundly adequate in its ability to say true ideas, ideas that all sensitive and intelligent people can see. I am optimistic viewers of my art will respond with satisfaction that is intellectual and emotional. I am working in order to touch all viewers with fullness of human capacity, i.e., the stuff that make us uniquely us. Yesterday I believe I took a small step in that direction; Looking here, at today's reproductions, my worries dissipate a little. Yesterday's work is good.
 "Doublethink" (2019 No.3, state 1), oil on canvas, 58x58 inches {"Doublethink means the power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one's mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them." -George Orwell, "Nineteen Eighty Four" (1949)} My methodology is more multi-think than Doublethink. This concerns me. I worry I see in a complicated and complex manner. I worry this makes it difficult to communicate through my art. Am I allowing myself to solve the needs of an image by multitasking the image? Instead, should I be simplifying my images toward their basic instincts? When I began the new painting, "Doublethink", I had ambition; I wanted restrict it to two contradictory and contrasting forms. Obviously this did not happen in state 1. You can see "Doublethink" as two contrasting areas; the left playing with rectangular in/out rotational vigor, the right with rounded up/down spinning-top-like verticality. I am not sure I will work on "Doublethink" again today. I need its complexity to percolate within/without me. There is a very complex drawing on my drawing board right now. It waits for me to solve it, to finish it off. I began this drawing with thoughts similar to those I began "Doublethink". My thoughts were similar in their simplicity-seeking. The drawing ran away toward a self-imposed complex solution. It feels self-imposed by the drawing, but of course it is me. It is me who is self-trained to see this way. This morning, in my effort to question my complexity, I purchased a sketch book. I hope it will help me resolve my issues with myself. I will use the sketch book to experiment with different ways to tackle by complex-seeing personality. I believe I am in need of simplification. I could be wrong.
 "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2, state 9), oil on canvas, 59.5x32 inches {"Life is sweet at the edge of a razor; And down in the front row of an old picture show the old man is asleep as the credits start to roll. And I want to know, the same thing everyone wants to know, how's it going to end?" -Tom Waits}  Drawing 03·07·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches One day comes, I believe I know how to do this. The next days comes, I feel awash with more questions that are without easy answers. Nothing is obviously right or wrong. I wander as if in a desert. I am contemplating. I am alone. There is doubt. I am working. I am brainstorming. I am seeking. I find; I question everything I find. Am I being successful? I do not know. Such is the process of making-art.
Two days ago I believed I had made a breakthrough drawing. I tried to repeat the process. No two days, not two drawings, no two acts are identical. Nothing can be repeated. Each activity stands by itself. The path is evident; the next step lays before me, but the place I am going is not known. I accept this. This process is lively and mysterious. I trust it is worthwhile; I believe it will reward me with more: more knowledge, more ideas, more questions, more results. I will possess a lot of more!  "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2, state 8), oil on canvas, 59.5x32 inches {"Life is sweet at the edge of a razor; And down in the front row of an old picture show the old man is asleep as the credits start to roll. And I want to know, the same thing everyone wants to know, how's it going to end?" -Tom Waits}  Drawing 03·05·2019, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches When Alberto Giacometti reached maturity he perceived his struggle as no longer a problem of creation, but one of destruction. His struggle was one for purity and perfection. Giacometti commented his sculptures often became so thin that one more swipe with the scalpel would reduce them to dust. I paraphrase, but the meaning is clear. I have reached a point in my art-making which worries me. Purity and perfection are enemies as well as a friends. They drive me, but they also force me to ask these questions: Will I always fail? Will striving for perfection not allow me to know a work is complete? With each work I am concerned I will be left with only a confused mess. This struggle is artificial. I am alive and well. I will not allow myself to be pulled astray. My energy is relentlessly focused on accomplishing the correct image. Each work is different.
Yesterday's drawing appears with too many rounded forms. It is shallow with little three-dimensional animation. I despaired while making it. In this drawing I had pulled away from my recent idea that three-dimensional contrast is extremely important to my expression. Today is new day. Today I make a new drawing. I will react to my concerns, the problems I see in yesterday's drawing. Yesterday I left the studio worried about the painting "How's It Gonna End" (2019 No.2). I wondered if yesterday's vast reworking of this painting had gone well. Looking at its reproduction this morning, I believe it did move in a good direction. Phew!  Drawing 02·07·2019, pencil on paper, 16x20 inches It will happen shortly. My art will be due at galleries for exhibition. This fact hit me hard last week. I negotiated final dates and works to be exhibited. Stay tuned for more information. I have three exhibits scheduled this year, and more possible. My first exhibit begins in Late April.
Exhibiting is confusing to me because it comes with good, bad, and ugly. Bothersome it is to my most important activity, my most fulfilling activity: The making of art itself. The drawing shown here is from two days ago. It is a complex and excellent drawing. There is a push/pull of three-dimensional space, excellence in value contrasts, and a robust, active composition.  "2017 No.13" (state 20), oil on canvas, 62x71 inches   State 20 of the painting 2017 No.13 was important. There will be a state 21. Right now this painting is a pinch away from finality. The only thing I question is the mid-portion of the dominant right form. I am wondering if the value of the shadow between the lowest snake-like form and its second-from-bottom portion is too high; should it be darkened? That, along with a few minor purifications, it will be done; will happen today.
Yesterday's drawings are vastly different from one to the next. This happens when I am anticipating transition to a new painting. What shall I do? With what shall I wrestle? A new painting will begin very soon.  "2017 No.12" (state 6), oil on canvas, 76x61 inches It is mid-afternoon. I have not gotten to the studio. A pressure, manufacture by a problem inherent to modern living, took me over. I got it done. All is OK. I had to do something to make the solution last for years to come. This distraction could not be avoided. If living here and now is to be simple, rather than complexed by worry, it had to be done. Actually, this is similar to my making art. It has to be done! Yesterday's work was very good. Do not pay attention to my concerns, pay attention to the quality of my work. Thanks!    "2017 No.3" (state 3), oil on canvas, 27.5x50 inches Doing this, making art, every day, is leading to loss of concern. I am giving up my tendency to overthink. It is being replaced with simplicity of action. Self-discovery is not simple. It is an iterative process which insists the intuition function without worry.    "2016 No.13" (state 4), oil on canvas, 63x58 inches No matter how much I wonder if it is complete, refinement is always possible. The intellectual question is... "Does a little more refinement make the painting better?" In this case, I believe, "Yes!" Yesterday I thought I would move on to a new painting. Then I looked at "2016 No.13"; a little part of it annoyed me. I changed it. I think it better. But, for several minutes, before making the change, I sat there, in front of it, looking, wondering, "Will such a small alteration make it better?" I am glad I did what I did. I will not point the changes out to you, since I think my questions should be the same as yours. Then you may answer for yourself. Yesterday's drawing took an interesting direction. I continue to wonder about the biomorphism of my work. In its extreme, it bothers me. I do not want the viewer to be so involved in references to nature that he/she misses my primary concern. First, foremost, I want the viewer to be wowed by the emotive qualities of the primary artistic elements: composition, color, form, space. Does yesterday's drawing do this? Or, do you, the viewer, first see a weirdly derivative animal on a pedestal? I'd like to know. In yesterday's blog post I wondered, out-loud, about my needing to write about my art. In my conceit, I actually believed it might be speaking, lucidly, for itself. That feeling went away quickly. Mostly I just worry. Anxiety never allows me to go very far into calmness. So I am back writing about my worries. Oh well! I am better for it. I hope you feel the same. I worry! It drives me to the next idea.  Drawing 07·09·2016, pencil on paper, 20x16 inches |
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June 2019
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