Flat White Walls
Right now, “prattling on” would mean I am displayed in a gallery matched with several sales since the opening of the show. Mind you, daydreams also walk with me in and out of the ladies crapper at Wal-Mart. Longing need never end; neither need practicality. “Prattling on” would also mean my conversation has turned vacuous. On the contrary, my penchant to raise awareness about investing in the psychological in art has never been so vital to my work. Why? The viewpoint is familiar. I was once told to write about what you know, so it is my vein to continue to vet out the depths of a life.
So, what of a flat white wall? No reflection is donned in the bleeding shadow. On it, the afternoon light is purely illuminating. In my mind, the eye comes to rest upon the wall when night falls. If you have not guessed, my preference for white walls hides a penchant for texture and pattern. The illusion of a sheet of paisley forms rocks me like Brahms lullaby. In the past, other forms on fabric had me wander out into the center of the studio finding dancing steps through the composition. At some point, immersion of form became all rhythm and balance. Some days I can get no rest from the ebb and flow in color and form. Eventually I needed rest from the heady mess of it all; thus flat white wall to the rescue. I find stillness in flat white spaces. Seriously, I have stopped in the middle of nowhere to regain balance from them. For instance, I am just as likely to stare at the space between paintings as well as the pieces. I am overwhelmed, but I manage. The occasion is much like studying negative space intensively. When you are finished with studies, there is a pop to the world. Construction comes sharp in those days after exercises. You may demand the shadows to organize themselves appropriately. I am overwhelmed, but I put all aright in time.
Eyes On
Last year, through the aches, pain and swelling, what mattered was the hands. Never in my life did I feel so aware of shoulder to finger tip. Whether overwork or obsession, I kept too little of self-care and plowed through tasks. The year in retrospect yields unfinished quilts and a downsized studio. For all my work I found foundation by investing in practices rather than committing to unproductive ventures. From the garden to cooking and writing to quilting, I found pride in work from memory to image and emotion to word. Despite progress, with the need of flat white walls arising again, I need to shift to care and feeding of the eyes
It would be easy to paste up a cross section of an eye and build a lecture on the mechanics of such. Instead, let us retire to places that only an artist can see through. I owe my care and feeding to several activities: 1) mowing the lawn, 2) carving a pine board, 3) cutting out paper, and 4) painting a picture. Of the first two, both have kept me wary of protection but rarely taking action. The greatest fear has been metal embedding in my eye. My dad told me of his eyes after an electrical explosion- I think he still has shrapnel that could not be removed. From him I learned my lesson and now maintain safety glasses with every bit of yard work and during the aggressive parts of making art.
I would be remiss if I continued to concentrate on the external matters of the eye. From the artistic point of view there is a presumption that we are all able to see with great accuracy and can render with technical diligence. That factor seems a common presumption to any discussion of the artistic eye. What of the internal factors that make a difference in sight? I do not speak of pressure in the eye nor do I speak of glaucoma. What could change the nature of sight so much that the arts would be a continuous filter for insight? I speak of the mind.
I never took a liking to the trance work art that came out of the social movements of the 1960's. Bias against psychedelics to produce a pure vision never left me through the resurgence of psychotropics in college. Besides, the trance art I found seemed a never ending journey through the lens of a lava lamp. Not until I became familiar with Buddhist art and the mandala that I began to budge and swing out into embracing new possibilities and techniques. I found, other than drug culture, ways existed to contemplate natural forms and spiritual teachings. The influence of sand painting in Native American cultures as well as Buddhist sects altered my mind when drafting quilts. Designing based on vision work embodies the suggestion of the concrete in abstract thought. Bridging the trance world with solid imagery is a difficult task. Especially in bringing the character of the vision back to the waking world whole and complete in its own visual language. In current work, I have taken to drawing daydreams and scripting dreams. Finding the word or drawing line to capture the nature of the scene before it changes is difficult - almost like drawing clouds on a blustery day. For me the two methods of recording are an act of walking two worlds while being completely engaged in both. As of late I am outside of my self. Balance will return with rest and committing to developing an image. Creating sometime must be an act that is a step away from immediacy.
As ever, stay hungry and curious.
Else-wise:
https://www.google.com/search?q=psychedelic+art+posters+1960s&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiD4uiku87fAhUSKqwKHUofAtYQ7Al6BAgAECM&biw=1680&bih=933
https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-iconic-artists-and-movements-of-the-1960s
https://www.google.com/search?q=trance+art+visual+art&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiZjoy7us7fAhUIZawKHVEnAu0QsAR6BAgEEAE&biw=1680&bih=933
https://www.colormatters.com/color-and-vision/color-and-vision-matters
https://www.google.com/search?q=buddhist+mandala+painting&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwi_0uesstDfAhUFPa0KHRzCCOAQsAR6BAgDEAE&biw=1680&bih=933
https://www.google.com/search?q=native+american+sand+painting&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjA-K3JstDfAhUMQK0KHVX3CqgQsAR6BAgFEAE&biw=1680&bih=933
http://indians.org/articles/native-american-sand-painting.html