I did ten paintings with the question, "Why does a painting have to BE something?"
With some observers, looking at a painting is like trying to find something familiar in shapes of clouds. "Oh look! That part looks like my dog!"
So I worked on a series of paintings that would be nothing in particular. Nothing real, nothing surreal, no communication, no emotional message, no mood, no display of technique, no decorator accessory. “That’s just the right size and color for over my couch.”
I was determined to just let the bare canvas suggest where to start. Let the marks ask what to do next. Let the color tell what other color is needed. Which style? Which technique?
All the while, there should be no effort to BE something. Except what the paint asked.
It took about six canvases before one really evolved like that. It is difficult to disassociate with the real world.
There was no horizon, no direction. No randomness, no discipline. It was just what the canvas asked for.
I suppose someone, sometime, will inevitably see their dog in it somewhere. The mind strives to put everything into the familiar.
But at least I don’t, in this case anyway. I see only how I responded to an empty canvas. We talked.
The Profile (more than you really wanted to know) is here.
Lost Gallery The rescue mission for battered and abused orphan photographs.
Tempelton Creepa had worked for years cleaning squirrel cages and was finally adversely affected by the fumes. He turned his attention to pancake collecting and imitating clocks.
Although his wife June was clever enough to get him dressed for this sitting, Tempelton never quite understood what they were doing.
The Profile (more than you really wanted to know) is here.
Lost Gallery The rescue mission for battered and abused orphan photographs.
