In the past few days the world has become a very different place. Isolation, now mandated by Covid-19, has never been a problem for me. In fact, my only problem with isolation is that I like it too much … probably more than is healthy. But yesterday, after my two research projects froze, I got back to work on Garden … or … I tried to.
This is a big painting for me … literally big … and also significant in a way I’m struggling to articulate. This painting has been on pause for five years … like the world is now. I didn’t finish it because I wasn’t artist enough … until now. You may like this painting … or you may dislike it. But I don’t think people will be indifferent to it. Garden puts a stake in the ground. It defines a specific artistic ideology and style for me. It will be the lead painting in an upcoming solo show later this year at my new home — 811 Gallery … soon to be open in Charlotte.
There’s nothing wrong with pouring emotion into a painting … I believe it’s the difference between merely competent art and GREAT ART. The emotion built in to the architecture of the work comes back out to the viewer. But the emotion I felt yesterday in the studio was some kind of crazy. Every time I picked up a brush I started to cry. Finally I gave up and binged on space movies and meatball curry.
…. this is the morning after. And just like avoiding a person who has hurt you … I don’t want to see Garden today … or any other painting in the studio. The beast that’s making me cry is in the streets, the stores, the office buildings, the parks … and I have to go out there and take a look at it. Before you learn to paint, you learn to see. And you don’t see a thing unless you look at it … look at it in a way that you cease to feel separation from it.
So I’m packing up my field easel … here we go.
