What I've Missed

The canvases have been sitting in a corner of my studio for months.  Pretty big units covered with Latex Paint and Hay and set for further development, so I decided to set them up.

I’d been regarding them, sort of; but when setting them up things got serious.  Which way did they go?  I switched them around, turned them over…looked, watched…reset them….

My home studio is big enough to handle these canvases—I didn’t know that before and it’s nice to realize as I gaze.   Whether size matters or not, there is a difference.   To have big surfaces in the studio is such an inviting challenge—their impact is undeniable. 

I begin to pick apart what’s going on between these canvases and grab a brush, starting to work up the line/shape relationships between the two canvases.  Then pause and reflect…this is what I’ve missed.

They take a lot of consideration. I edit out repetition, the irrelevant, and the distracting; hopefully without losing the spontaneity of the beginning phases.  Having killed a number of promising works over the years, I know the heartbreak of losing a strong opening.

Looking, acting, and then watching what has happened (and figuring what is next) is precious.  As the painting emerges, the process is archeological, as well as architectural:  excavating and building.

I love that zone of looking, acting and reflecting on the large scale—that’s what I’ve missed.  The product demands the process...and sure, you can get too careful.  That’s when the original flower of the process dies…sometimes you can blow it apart and regain the elements of power, surprise and delight; but that is also a new work. 

I ended the day knowing what to do next.  I could have continued into the wee hours with this one--clearly there's a long way to go.  Knowing the next step is valuable and a great motivation to get back to it. 

It's the end of a long day in the studio with several projects happening at once, and neither the painting nor I am exhausted.  Its potential is preserved and is in the process of being revealed.  How much of it can be realized and still maintain the full interest?

Here's a short video of day 2 in the process of defining this image, January 8, 2014.


And here's Day 3, the end is most interesting!  Who knew?



This is not mine.

                     This is not my choice, it’s your Choice.

This is not my church, it’s your Church.

This is not my work, it’s your Work.

This is not my thought, it’s your Thought.

 

 

This is not my mind, it’s your Mind.

This is not my life, it’s your Life.

This is not my joy, it’s your Joy!

The Facebook Collection--Ongoing

I don’t see what will be, but I am thoroughly convinced that it will turn out well. I've become so certain of it that I'll keep working until the current mess becomes a brilliant

 resolution.

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If things aren’t going your way it doesn’t mean that the vision/promise isn’t so, or isn’t for you. 

 Believe when you don’t see things working out by employing words of Life. 

  All things are possible to those who 

believe. 

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I don’t believe in random. Not anymore. It’s been some time since I took the idea seriously but, no…never again.

I have a reason. I have a cause. I act with purpose—His

 purpose. 

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 I have an inheritance that can only be squandered by

 quitting.

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If you do not quit, you will not fail; I believe that with a vengeance, for everyone. As such, ideas are worth pursuing and sometimes things are a mess, but that isn’t anything to be afraid of. It’s just something to work through.  

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I am exhilarated—no, ravenously overenthusiastic—by the potential of new ideas. But God gives the vision, and it’s perfect: there’s nothing missing, nothing broken about it.

My challenge is to believe that, and RELAX. All the “what if’s” and wheel spinning are not peace and confidence, it’s me taking responsibility for making God’s vision happen.

Then I’ve taken it over…what has it become?
Psalm 127:2

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Wishing everyone a season of wholeness: 

 nothing missing, nothing broken.

This Peace on earth; and good will--

(good desires, good intentions, good motivations)

--to all.  

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“Beloved, I wish above all things that you may prosper and be in health, even as your soul prospers” 

 3rd John: 2

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You see the wind’s effect and hear it blow, you feel it moving: although invisible you know it's there. 
 John 3:8

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"Surprise is the beginning of delight." 
Roy H. Williams, Secret Formulas of the Wizard of Ads

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We are not in competition with darkness. 
 (Romans 8:25-39)

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  This is not my choice, it’s your Choice.

This is not my church, it’s your Church.

This is not my work, it’s your Work.

This is not my thought, it’s your Thought.

This is not my mind, it’s your Mind.

This is not my life, it’s your Life.

This is not my joy, it’s your Joy!

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Thankful

I am thankful for these days,

and the days built upon these days

 

 I thank God for these days.  Things are happening that have needed to happen, and progress is occurring.  These are necessary days, just a few days of work in areas that aren’t necessarily my strengths, however I've found that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
 

 

I thank God for the days that are built on these days.  The days ahead are days of success—art is a winning business!  I can see them even though they aren’t here yet, because the way is so clearly prepared.

What a refreshing change of pace that is!  The number of directions, the quality of those choices and where they lead is keeping me awake at night. 

The future has come knocking, the knob is turned and the door begins to swing….

 

The Wow of James Turrell

I’ve noticed myself speaking very excitedly about the Turrell retrospective at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art—much more excited than what I felt while viewing the show. 

Especially in Turrell’s immersion artworks:  to be conscious and aware in such an unusual environment is disturbing (pleasantly), disorienting (I can imagine walking into a wall without realizing it were there), and other-worldly. 

Maybe “other-worldly” is the right term.  In a work like “Breathing Light” (2013)  you are surrounded by colored light and exist in a physical space which doesn’t allow for any other experience… sound isn’t a part of the installation, touch isn’t relevant…taste and smell, forget about it.



"Breathing Light"

But there you are in this colored space…you’re not dreaming.  This is a real place, but unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.  Sense deprivation is a field of study for Turrell, and it is typically in a laboratorial, if not negative context (solitary confinement); but this is so extravagant and rich.  Indulging the sense of sight so thoroughly and without detail brings into play the mechanics of vision—the way the eye scans and moves to gather information—and what about afterimages?

"Breathing Light", view from waiting area

By the time you emerge from the retrospective you feel like the scales have been removed from your eyes (Acts 9:17-18) .  Having been under the exclusive influence of light and color for one to two hours, I wonder what I’ve been involved with, really.  The spiritual references to light speak of understanding, clarity and glory. 



"Skyscape"



The physicality of light, which I’ve never considered or encountered before now, is wavelengths or vibrations.  Breaking the human experience down to one element (light) and continuously exposing viewers to that singular experience renders an increasingly physical effect/impact on the viewer.

 “What is happening to me?” is a question that occurs during this experience.  Perhaps nothing or nothing that isn’t quickly restored upon leaving the museum and returning to daylight and the bustle of Wilshire Blvd.  Darn it.

On our flight back east I began reflecting on all of this.  Detail is eye pleasing—the eye hungers for it.  My window view from the airplane confirmed it:  I spent a lot more time looking down than up—you see the sky, you get it—but the landscape below was changing constantly and filled with detail and texture…fascinating. 

 I got excited, realizing that Turrell’s work is not eye pleasing.  It forces us to look at terrifically little; as such it goes against the nature of the eye.

etchings






The three dimensional references of the early work (the gorgeous etchings, as well as the light projections like “Juke”) are done away with in the shallow space installation, “Raemar Pink White”, as well as in the immersion installations, like "Breathing Light."

"Raemar Pink White" (shallow space installation)

In the latest works the edges, seams and planes of the viewing space are removed, giving our eyes even less information.  There are fewer and fewer references to our previous experiences, our world.

"Breathing Light"

I left the museum feeling like a spiritual being:  sensitive, reduced by stages through each progressive work.  I felt as if I’d experienced the creation, through man-made spaces, ordered experiences and sensory deprivation/indulgence.  Turrell reduces this world and the vastness of creation to a focused experience of the first element, light.  His stated interest is in creating experiences rather than “art”....

Job well done, sir, and thank you for the memories.  Wow!

 

Heron Rainbow

 

I am creating some paintings based on the New Vision Heron Mural.  You may recognize it from my Facebook cover photo...These new artworks will accompany the hanging of the new mural.  They allow people to own a beautiful original painting, unmistakably related to the new public image and downtown marker;  clearly made by the same artist.

These new works are paintings on paper, both multiples and singles.  There are about two dozen pieces in the series so far, with several more on the way; made between sessions of working on the mural. 

I like these: they are fun, intuitive, and straight forward.  The color scheme is the same as the mural, the subject matter too; but the unpredictable qualities of spray paint keep things fresh!  Spatters and skips from the spray can, and using the stencil to create prints keeps surprise as a key part of the process.  One of my favorite quotes is from “Secret Formulas of the Wizard of Ads”, by Roy H. Williams, (1999)  “Surprise is the beginning of delight.”

I have enjoyed making these new paintings!  There’s a production aspect to these works (I did work as a cabinet maker for decades).  As such, I tend towards streamlined processes, uniformity, and how time and speed relate to cost.  I want to be realistic in my pricing, creating interesting and fun artworks for a price that is both affordable and fair to me. 

Now is the time for success!

 

"Towards Disappearing" A Painting by Sam Francis, 1957, Los Angeles County Museum of Art

 I really love this painting!  I’ve never seen it before, and figured it was by Helen Frankenthaler.  The wash that was under the opaque brushwork looked like stains seeping out from the heavier paint.  I only associate that effect with Frankenthaler, but all that open space…the brushwork relative to the size of the painting was underscaled, but the composition—its critical groupings of shapes, brushwork, and spatters was so unusual! 

 

What does it take for a painting to strike you as weird? “Towards Disappearing” by Sam Francis is very pleasing in its sparseness, but perhaps the placement of its parts is not entirely precise—everything is roughed in by the transparent blue wash, then brushed over with heavier paint; but the unusual balance, particularly from top to bottom wins. 

The blobs on either edge of the canvas are perhaps too obvious in stretching the image to its full margin, but I refuse to belabor this point because of the sweetness of the main body. 

I find it easy to simply report the basics:  to look at the technique and process, believing that this tells about the painting.  "Towards Disappearing" illustrates the concept of a work being greater than the sum of its parts. 

This painting is more than the brushstrokes and qualities of the material.  It is more than Francis’ colors--they seem to be swallowed up by white canvas and then appear upon closer inspection; it is more than the many fine spatters of thrown liquid paint.  Technique doesn’t define this curious imagery.

The museum notes mention the artist’s travels to Paris and his encounter with Japanese art, and point out the simplicity of expression, the asymmetrical division of the space, the calligraphic quality of the brushwork and identity of the image.  This begins to open a door onto the work, but it is a genuinely weird painting. 

In Francis' painting the asymmetry, paint handling, the liquidity of the paint are its subject.  Its wash, drips/runs and fine splatters speak so to liquid characteristics—no impasto or thick film, no structure. 

And it doesn’t look like water lilies, birds, or anything--It's just a painting, not a painting of something.  Success!

For more on Sam Francis:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sam_Francis