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Post #358 • September 1, 2004, 7:18 AM • 3 Comments
September. Crunch time. My solo show at Dorsch opens the third Saturday in October. I'm painting something that contradicts the other work I intended for the exhibition. My muse is acting like a complete bitch. Moving off the beach and into my house changed my work, but am I progressing or flailing? Can one do both simultaneously? I keep forgetting to make time to shave. And, with apologies to everyone else, something has happened concerning someone who will know what this quote from Minor White relates to:
Often while traveling with a camera we arrive just as the sun slips over the horizon of a moment, too late to expose film, only time enough to expose our hearts.
And we can do nothing but wait for the sun to return. I am thinking of a flatness as aggressive as the impasto I was using before. I feel grateful to handle paint. Ultramarine and quinacridone and iron oxide have become like jewels to me. I smear them around like a rich man, but one who earned his wealth a dime at a time. Even beige takes on the qualities and value of gold. I paint and paint and paint. What people call the art world has become like a party on the other side of town which I don't want to attend and didn't get invited to anyway. Meanwhile my masters sit at the table in my head - I can't say who or they'll get up and leave. They know flatness. I look at their art and try to clue in. They glance at each other with concerned expressions. Then I return to the studio. Come to my show in October. Look for me there: the skeleton with the beating heart, propped up on a chair in the office, with nothing to say except what you may infer from the art in the gallery.
September 1, 2004, 10:36 PM
Thanks for working so hard for the show! Relax at least your show is not on September 4th.... Like the Marc Roder, Jay Ore, Harumi Abe, Cristian Meesey and John Sanchez at my gallery.
But this is not the first time I scheduled an opening during a Hurricane. A show of wonderful paintings by Kerry Ware opened in a mild hurricane about 6 years ago and we sat in the gallery lite by candlelight and sang songs, like we were camping. So come down and bring some Marshmellows! We'll make smores.
September 1, 2004, 10:39 PM
Not that my gallery is about the "party" but with a storm like this one I'm not expecting a hugh crowd.
September 1, 2004, 10:13 PM
I guess all our bloggers are watching Frances.
If paints become jewels and you are are obsessing about flatness and flailing you are into painting all right. No one said it had to be fun all the time. You have to keep on flailing because progress only becomes apparent later, sometimes much later.
Keep in mind that one difference between impasto and flat is what the viewer "sees". When paint as such is very visible we tend to see the figure supporting the paint. Conversely, when paint is flat we see the paint supporting the figure; we don't "see" the paint, as such, at all, unless we look for it. Flat painting forces you to make a conscious decision about verisimilitude, while impasto can - to some extent - avoid the problem.
Of course this is no help at all.