One of my favorite parts of working on these mirror series pieces (a series I’m now calling “Mirror/Image” mostly so it can have a name and a differentiation from “Model Consumer”) is laying down the black. You can see from the picture above that the past bit of time I have spent on a number of things in the painting, but trying to get the large expanses of black right is a huge chunk of how my time has been spent.
This part of these paintings— this getting the positive and negative space right, and super-emphasized, is at the heart of what I first set out to do when I began work on this series about 6 (?) months ago. Drawing attention to the relationship of people to their own reflection (or image) is one thing, (and to also draw attention to the things we look at over and over again in everyday life that informs our ideas of ourselves), but to actually present the relationship of the colors and the shapes is a lot more physically moving versus intellectual. It is also the part that holds the most risk. Obviously every piece of the painting is essential, but the wrong curve or wrong amount of black can so overpower the piece as to make it fall apart. You can tell from all these works that black is a major character— and there is a major aspect of the layering and depth of seeing how much I can get away with in the picture plane and still have the image work.
This whole dynamic was especially true with Steel Heart. I was working in entirely warm colors with the pinks and the reds, and while I tried out the color combinations and compositional shapes in smaller scales beforehand, the realized size always looks a bit different— luckily in this case it is very dynamic and effective as realized on this canvas.
I think I also like the black parts as they are my real fallback to non-representational painting. I do spend a lot of time trying to balance the transparency of the brushstrokes, the brilliance of the color, and the “painterly” aspects of the line in order to create a tension and energy between the still image and the application of paint. In this way there is a tension between linear and painterly effects— but in the black expanses I am free to let the paint clump a lot more and pay different attention to the nuances of the color. As the layers of meaning and experience are so important to these works, the black is always a portion that allows for greater depth and interpretation.
I thought of Clyfford Still a lot while I was painting these sections this time. Almost as if I was doing mini-Still interpretations inside the greater whole of the painting in these black sections. I can’t be sure, but I believe the first time I experienced some large-scale Clyfford Still’s was at the Art Institute of Chicago. Regardless of where it was, this presentation of a huge-scale abstract impressionist work, dominated by this uneven, lumpy black had a major impact on me. There was something so dark and foreboding about the heavy color with the jagged edge, but also tranquil and calming at the same time. It created in me a kind of stillness (no pun intended) and an energy simultaneously (maybe something likened to Kierkegaard’s “Fear and Trembling” with some faith or peace embedded in this dynamic). Anyhow, the ability to create such an vast expanse of depth in the painting by laying down a lot of black went counter to what I had experienced before (in Still the black is neither only flat nor deep— it shifts between the two— surface and expanse) and it has obviously influenced my thinking about art and how to approach painting.
Above image of Clyfford Still in front of a canvas is from the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery (http://www.npg.si.edu/exh/rebels/paintim.htm).
I continue to experiment with exactly how I want to achieve this. I play with different combinations of colors (every time I set to mixing my black I hear this James Rosenquist quote in my head “you never use straight black, you always mix it” which I am sure is a misquote now, as I can’t find its source, but is close enough for my head). This most recent “black” is a combination of black, white, some silver acrylic and some navy blue. Of course, this dynamic is also made different as Still used oil paints for his large canvases, and the se acrylics lack some of the same properties. But, in order to achieve the same transparency and collage I have for the rest of the work, these acrylics do an amazing job.
Funny, because what used to be a hierarchy of subject matter (religious, portrait, landscape, etc.) on importance of artwork has turned into a hierarchy of materials (oils still being seen as most pertinent). This has been shifted a but over the past 20 years (into sculpture for one thing) with the focus on drawings and sketchbooks as a way to get a more intimate view of artists. All that said, the acrylics made today definitely don’t do all the same things oils do, but in laying down these blacks they are able to achieve that balance between flat and depth.
Maybe the other reason I love the black sections is I don’t have to worry about how much I show/how much I don’t show from beneath. As with Steel Heart I often use vinyl lettering behind the paint, along with various devices to lift the paint from the surface with some texture— but I don’t need to think about what aspects of collage are showing. In all of these the black sections are that alone— sections of black that operate against the colors and the white and the collage work.
As I write this I can see a future work with the black on top of the collage. That is some of how art goes— finding your rules and tricks and challenging them over and over.
The other thing that has been on my mind quite a bit now is this Hopper show. I have been reading through the catalog and there is an inference in the first essay that he didn’t talk much about his forefathers— that his style was uniquely Hopper. I am not sure if I agree or disagree with this yet, but it is in direct contrast to how I work for sure. In both my art and my poetry feeling a part of a greater conversation is essential— maybe because art from the past has helped me form my self- and world-view. For sure you don’t want to repeat what has already been said in the conversation (unless you can say it with a different spin or voice), but part of being involved is the listening and understanding what has been said before. So, I imagine Hopper in his studio giving birth to some unique and personal style in an intimate vacuum— while I lay down layers of black with Rosenquist and Still murmuring around in my head.
Then again, the next essay in the catalog might say the exact opposite.
But for now, Steel Heart progresses. I am loving the black and am working on the finishing touches of detail and second applications where need be.
One last note— as I searched for a good image of Clyfford Still, I found this portrait by Tina Mion shown above on the Smithsonian’s website. The large oil painting is featured in the Smithsonian show “Portraiture Now: Framing Memory” and the painting is titled: “Stop-Action Reaction: Jacqueline Kennedy, King of Hearts,” from 1997.
What a wonderful painting (you can see more at her website http://www.tinamion.com/ where this image is taken from as well) and how strange to catch this when I am writing about Steel Heart (which obviously uses playing cards but in a different way).
Only reinforces that fact to me that there is no vacuum in art— only a larger discussion we are all participating in.
This part of these paintings— this getting the positive and negative space right, and super-emphasized, is at the heart of what I first set out to do when I began work on this series about 6 (?) months ago. Drawing attention to the relationship of people to their own reflection (or image) is one thing, (and to also draw attention to the things we look at over and over again in everyday life that informs our ideas of ourselves), but to actually present the relationship of the colors and the shapes is a lot more physically moving versus intellectual. It is also the part that holds the most risk. Obviously every piece of the painting is essential, but the wrong curve or wrong amount of black can so overpower the piece as to make it fall apart. You can tell from all these works that black is a major character— and there is a major aspect of the layering and depth of seeing how much I can get away with in the picture plane and still have the image work.
This whole dynamic was especially true with Steel Heart. I was working in entirely warm colors with the pinks and the reds, and while I tried out the color combinations and compositional shapes in smaller scales beforehand, the realized size always looks a bit different— luckily in this case it is very dynamic and effective as realized on this canvas.
I think I also like the black parts as they are my real fallback to non-representational painting. I do spend a lot of time trying to balance the transparency of the brushstrokes, the brilliance of the color, and the “painterly” aspects of the line in order to create a tension and energy between the still image and the application of paint. In this way there is a tension between linear and painterly effects— but in the black expanses I am free to let the paint clump a lot more and pay different attention to the nuances of the color. As the layers of meaning and experience are so important to these works, the black is always a portion that allows for greater depth and interpretation.
I thought of Clyfford Still a lot while I was painting these sections this time. Almost as if I was doing mini-Still interpretations inside the greater whole of the painting in these black sections. I can’t be sure, but I believe the first time I experienced some large-scale Clyfford Still’s was at the Art Institute of Chicago. Regardless of where it was, this presentation of a huge-scale abstract impressionist work, dominated by this uneven, lumpy black had a major impact on me. There was something so dark and foreboding about the heavy color with the jagged edge, but also tranquil and calming at the same time. It created in me a kind of stillness (no pun intended) and an energy simultaneously (maybe something likened to Kierkegaard’s “Fear and Trembling” with some faith or peace embedded in this dynamic). Anyhow, the ability to create such an vast expanse of depth in the painting by laying down a lot of black went counter to what I had experienced before (in Still the black is neither only flat nor deep— it shifts between the two— surface and expanse) and it has obviously influenced my thinking about art and how to approach painting.
Above image of Clyfford Still in front of a canvas is from the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery (http://www.npg.si.edu/exh/rebels/paintim.htm).
I continue to experiment with exactly how I want to achieve this. I play with different combinations of colors (every time I set to mixing my black I hear this James Rosenquist quote in my head “you never use straight black, you always mix it” which I am sure is a misquote now, as I can’t find its source, but is close enough for my head). This most recent “black” is a combination of black, white, some silver acrylic and some navy blue. Of course, this dynamic is also made different as Still used oil paints for his large canvases, and the se acrylics lack some of the same properties. But, in order to achieve the same transparency and collage I have for the rest of the work, these acrylics do an amazing job.
Funny, because what used to be a hierarchy of subject matter (religious, portrait, landscape, etc.) on importance of artwork has turned into a hierarchy of materials (oils still being seen as most pertinent). This has been shifted a but over the past 20 years (into sculpture for one thing) with the focus on drawings and sketchbooks as a way to get a more intimate view of artists. All that said, the acrylics made today definitely don’t do all the same things oils do, but in laying down these blacks they are able to achieve that balance between flat and depth.
Maybe the other reason I love the black sections is I don’t have to worry about how much I show/how much I don’t show from beneath. As with Steel Heart I often use vinyl lettering behind the paint, along with various devices to lift the paint from the surface with some texture— but I don’t need to think about what aspects of collage are showing. In all of these the black sections are that alone— sections of black that operate against the colors and the white and the collage work.
As I write this I can see a future work with the black on top of the collage. That is some of how art goes— finding your rules and tricks and challenging them over and over.
The other thing that has been on my mind quite a bit now is this Hopper show. I have been reading through the catalog and there is an inference in the first essay that he didn’t talk much about his forefathers— that his style was uniquely Hopper. I am not sure if I agree or disagree with this yet, but it is in direct contrast to how I work for sure. In both my art and my poetry feeling a part of a greater conversation is essential— maybe because art from the past has helped me form my self- and world-view. For sure you don’t want to repeat what has already been said in the conversation (unless you can say it with a different spin or voice), but part of being involved is the listening and understanding what has been said before. So, I imagine Hopper in his studio giving birth to some unique and personal style in an intimate vacuum— while I lay down layers of black with Rosenquist and Still murmuring around in my head.
Then again, the next essay in the catalog might say the exact opposite.
But for now, Steel Heart progresses. I am loving the black and am working on the finishing touches of detail and second applications where need be.
One last note— as I searched for a good image of Clyfford Still, I found this portrait by Tina Mion shown above on the Smithsonian’s website. The large oil painting is featured in the Smithsonian show “Portraiture Now: Framing Memory” and the painting is titled: “Stop-Action Reaction: Jacqueline Kennedy, King of Hearts,” from 1997.
What a wonderful painting (you can see more at her website http://www.tinamion.com/ where this image is taken from as well) and how strange to catch this when I am writing about Steel Heart (which obviously uses playing cards but in a different way).
Only reinforces that fact to me that there is no vacuum in art— only a larger discussion we are all participating in.
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