I have lost track of the number of times I have tried writing about my art, only to give up in frustration. I don’t know why it is so difficult for me to do. Perhaps because I don’t completely understand it. Then again, maybe I do, but don’t know how to bring all of the complexities of the forces that drive my art together, into a single, comprehensive notion. Regardless of the reason or reasons, this time I will simply “explain” myself in a series of observations which may or may not relate to one another. By necessity these observations will be rather general, and exceptions exist in abundance.
MY ART IS BORN out of an encounter with the world around me. Something stirs within when I see broad visions of a rural landscape, the rich texture and colors of an urban market, or the enchanting lines of architecture. My art is a response to these encounters.
I have been accused of seeing the world through rose colored glasses and of being a “friggin Pollyanna” by none other than my loving wife. And I suppose she is right. I do look for the best in everything and everyone, and that is what my art is all about. Of course it is an unconscious act, taking away from the encounter what I deem to be beautiful and worthwhile, finding the remains of elegance and pride in long abandoned barns, farms, and storefronts.
If there is one common thread in all of my art it is my desire to CREATE A SENSE OF PLACE. I want the viewer to see the piece of the world that I’ve created, to discover new ways of looking at the elements of my landscapes. Of course it is the world I see through rose colored glasses!
Rarely are people seen in my work (never say never), but I usually include some evidence of the human presence. It may be as elaborate as an intact structure, to as brief as a single line of fence posts.
My work on canvas is in sharp contrast to my watercolors. The broad landscapes are loose and intuitive, often imaginative; I feel no need to be absolutely literal in my depiction of the scene. The watercolors however are usually very tightly conceived and executed. Once started there is little deviation from the plan (not so with the work on canvas). All the creative effort takes place in the conception of the composition.
The work with soft pastels fall somewhere in between these 2 extremes.
1 comment:
"Writing about art is like dancing about architecture"
Not sure who to attribute this quote to, some say Lauri Anderson, some say Frank Zappa... but if we could say it in words, we'd be writers, wouldn't we?
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