MY WRITINGS ON ART
A Statement About My Intentions as an Artist
An attempt to explain my “Get Out of the Way” school of art
Note: the following paragraphs were typed with my eyes closed in an attempt to create and transfer onto the paper a stream of consciousness on my part about my intentions when I paint. I went back and edited as little as I could in an effort to preserve the stream of thought even as I changed words and corrected typos in order to clarify the statements. Edits/additions are [bracketed].
[There are] Various ways to separate the artist from the art, [to perpetuate a] minimal influence, [simultaneously it is] not random, not entirely directed [either], [because I am] hoping to achieve a transference of the feeling, feelings*, my feelings onto the canvas without rationality getting in the way, interfering; see it as a purer way to “paint” and that is in quotes because techniques are not normally associated with painting conventionally just brushes for example. Providing a rational understanding of what the techniques outlined below are, is ironic in that a [lost of thought – was a typo that I loved so much that I left it in] lot of thought has gone into them with the object of keeping thought out of the painting.
That is not to say that there is no structure to the paintings. Sometimes there is a great deal of thought put into the structure of a piece and it is changed, redesigned, and so evolves over a long period of time but the my object remains the same almost always: to get me out of the way of the expression of the abstract art that is put before you, my audience.
You will see and feel me in the work
but that is not the work,
just as you can see and feel the Creator in nature
but the objects in nature are their own things;
they are what they are,
each and of their own existence.
God created squirrels
but the squirrels you see today are products of that first feeling, that first creation,
they have evolved into what they are.
I create every one squirrel
and I create only one
and it is an abstract of a squirrel not the squirrel itself
it is the feeling of the squirrel that you should get:
the role of the creator
the absence of the role of creator
not feeling the creator as much as the piece –
but you CAN, you CAN “feel” a Matisse, a Van Gogh, a Doehring, there is something about most pieces that are YOU [the artist/creator] but the idea is
get out of the way
let the Creator work through you to create...
[Inserted observation: upon rereading, it feels like this sentiment can be applied to both relationships by which I mean: 1. the artist/creator gets out of the way and embodies/creates from the inspiration of the
greater (divine?)/creator; and 2. the viewer/creator (so called because the audience has a distinct role in “creating” the work) gets out of the way and receives/creates the inspiration of the artist/creator.]
[A second inserted observation: The “it” below references both the process and its product, i.e., “abstract art”, as best as I can figure it.]
it is not random
it is not overseen and directed
it is something in between that
like string theory or chaos theory
it is reorganized chaos
that is what abstract art is
something that comes out of the well of human emotion
and is filtered through reason and desire
and reaches contemplation
and beginning
and birth
and becoming
and then it is
abstracted human feeling
[pity im a rentable**] / put in a rectangle
and shared with you
like a book
just like a book
but without words
*”feelings”: The “feelings” I am transmitting/transferring onto the canvas I do not wish to/can’t/mustn’t ascribe words to the feelings I start with, I feel, I make. The “feelings” generated/transferred in and by the work are named after the work is done. Though at times I do feel a tremendous passion, anger, exhilaration during the creation of the work.
**”pity im a rentable” is another set of typos I loved too much to change. I read it as “pity I’m a rentable”, as in me and my work are available but temporary, and temporarily “yours” when you give me money.
Terms, Types and Techniques
Distressed Art
A descriptive term I borrowed from fashion in which I try to make the work look distressed, worn, used, bothered, redefined by scraping, wire-brushing, bleaching, water soaking and other tools.
Example: “Possibilities”
Spill Art
I also call this Pizza Sauce Art because I use small pizza sauce bottles to dilute paints, and then spill them upon a canvas, usually a new canvas. I move the paint by tilting the canvas or shaking it. Paints can be added all at once or over a period of time, letting parts of the painting dry before more paint is spilled onto the canvas.
Example: “Ej”
Cover and Reveal Art
• Tape (Used primarily to create lines connecting spaces and/or to define spaces; and to preserve favorite areas during paint-overs)
• Cardboard (Used to preserve favorite images and create spaces during paint-overs)
I place these coverings over my favorite parts of previous works before paint is brushed, spilled, or scraped over the entire canvas.
Coverings may be removed during the process, creating various layering effects. The edges of the lines and shapes of the coverings may be well-defined (sharp), or blurred, depending on the desired effect.
Example: “Thirteen Birds”
Plastic Art
I use thin, clear plastic (most frequently the plastic sheet covering new canvases) to cover wet paint and then move the paint by using scrapers, hands or brushes upon the surface of the plastic. The plastic is then removed, sometimes immediately to create ripple/wave effects or at varying drying times to create other effects. The plastic may be left upon the work permanently, pieces of the sheet of plastic may be removed, or the entire sheet may be removed. Sometimes I use the removed plastic sheet with the paint on it to start, or create entirely, a new painting.
Examples: “Thirteen Moons”, “Rippling”, “Angel Wings"
Flick Art
I use a scraper to flick paint onto a canvas from varying distances. A thin line of paint (usually several paints simultaneously) is spread upon the scraper’s edge and I snap the scraper toward the canvas, achieving various effects from swirled mixtures of colors to long lines of paint, to small and large shapes of paint.
Example: “Fleeting”
Scrape / Squeegee Art
Richter uses a giant squeegee to remove his paint from his canvas and reveal the shapes and colors beneath. I was unaware of his techniques before I began doing something similar on my smaller canvases. I scrape/squeegee small areas of my work, frequently redoing them, and use other techniques on the same work. My technique can be compared to Richter’s but I was not inspired by it.
Example: “Self-portrait”
Shake and Bake Art
As the words imply, at some point during the formation of the work, the canvas is shaken, pounded, slammed onto the table to move the paint and create effects.
Example: “Meet Me in Cyberspace”
Spray Art
• Can, such as the paint used in graffiti or household cover-ups.
• Bottle, any kind of atomizer, such as an eye drop container.
I spray paint onto a canvas to emphasize, define space, cover-up a mistake, or to provide contrast with the other areas of the work.
Example: “Thirteen Windows”
Drag or Drip Art
I was inspired by Pollock’s work to try a drip technique. I have not tried to imitate his work, simply his technique, and in every usage I have tried to use the technique differently than he did, such as dripping many colors or combining drip with large solid shapes. I respect what Pollock did and do not wish to copy him; instead I have built upon his main technique, trying to create new usages and effects with it.
Example: “Man is Blue, Woman is Red”
The Three Broad Categories I See in My Abstract Art
(Abstract) Shapes and Solids
Bolts and blocks of usually bold colors simultaneously unbalanced, imbalanced, in balance with each other.
(Abstract) Figures
Meant to be something, usually flowers or house.
Pure (Abstract)
It, whatever it is, just happens. And, if I realize exactly when I should stop, it becomes it. Otherwise, it’s never finished or it gets painted over.
Some More Terms I Created and Use to Describe My Art
Unpainting
The removal of paint from the canvas to create an unpainting. I wrote a poem/essay, “On Being an Unpainted”, available in the “Writings” section of this website, in which I tried to metaphorically describe the process and my thoughts about it.
Essentially I paint a canvas several times, each time trying to make a painting I like. Sometimes I then work backwards, removing parts of parts of layers, taking off paint, right down to the canvas, at times even making holes in the canvas. That is the process of unpainting.
Impatient Art
I am almost always in a hurry to be finished.
And by “finished” I usually mean with the idea I have.
So that I can move on to, or even think of, a new idea. And the new idea may be what I do next with the work I’m working on or an entirely different unrelated work. Sometimes I work on 2, 3, or 4 paintings in one day. Impatient Art.
On Being an Unpainter
I’m not a painter.
I am an unpainter.
It is all my creation.
From the first random drops and spills and lines.
And then more,
Coverings and waterings and wire brushing,
It’s all mine.
But I don’t paint it.
My addition is my subtraction.
My molding of a piece is what I take away.
I am a sculptor removing stone made of paint.
But I created the stone.
A hole is not a mistake.
A hole is where something used to be,
And now it’s not there anymore.
I took it away.
I even took away the canvas.
The thing I started with.
Before I started.
The blank thing.
Which is now,
Because of the hole,
Before before.
I am an unpainter.
I create something out of nothing.
Like most artists.
But sometimes I go back to the before of before
And truly create nothing out of nothing,
A new nothing to be sure.
I create part of a painting which existed before
The painting
But now exists
Within the painting,
I unpaint and continue creating
Nothing out of nothing
Order out of randomness
From randomness out of order
The present out of the past
With the future being the present
Because of the hole,
The hole which goes back in time
Before anything was created
It was uncreated.
I am an unpainter.
More thoughts taken from the Walls of my Studio
I don’t think you can worry about perfection when you are creating something. God didn’t.
I don’t need to know the names of colors. Do I need to know the names of birds to enjoy watching them?
Why is that there?
There doesn’t have to be a reason.
Do you have to explain something to show that it is good?
No.
How does a memory begin?
Working Quotes (from my studio walls)
“All works of art are experiments
Most experiments fail.”
“The thing that creates you as an artists will destroy you as an artist.”
“Abstract Art is reorganized chaos.”
“The white space may be the most important part.”
“We were pushing the Horrible Button today. We’ll see how it turns out.”
“Most of what I do is due to deliberate serendipity.”
“Impatient Art” is written on a wall. That’s what I call most of my work.
2017 Painting Thoughts
If you canʼt be good, be bold. If you canʼt be bold, quit.
How to paint? Define space. Destroy space. Redefine space. Thatʼs it.
I take more paint off a canvas than I leave on.
I paint paintings of paintings, thatʼs all.
It is impossible to see what I paint.
I donʼt try to put thought into the paintings yet they fail if they donʼt provoke thought.
The amount of paint on the canvas is not nearly as important as where it is.
I want my audience to work as much as I do.
I donʼt want to paint like anyone else – why would I?
My painting comes from nothing.
Sometimes you have to feed the monster and sometimes you have to kill it.
Best definition of abstract painting: you can see something that isnʼt there.
Artists are moody and self-centered; it doesnʼt matter if theyʼre any good.
Key to a “good” abstract painting: it looks like something but it isnʼt. Key to a “great” abstract painting: every day it looks like something else and it is.
Paintings are windows through which you can see the artist.
The only thing more frivolous to say than you understand art is to say that you donʼt.
Once defined, Meaninglessnessism will become the next great art movement.
The only thing more fun than looking at Abstract art is creating it. And sex.
Embrace whatʼs there. Donʼt force it. Itʼll come to you.
Art and ego are two three letter words which mean just about the same thing.
Breathe with the world, not against it.
You canʼt know what to paint. Stop thinking and follow your instincts.
Listen. The painting will tell you what to paint.
If you donʼt like it, I donʼt care. If you do like it, I donʼt care. Whether you like it or not, I donʼt care. Itʼs art.
Creating art is making love.
How do you know what to paint? Wrong verb.
The last thing I want to do when I paint is think.
Artists go in and out of style. Never Art itself. Art is as permanent as birth.
The only reward in making something good rather than something bad is that it is easier to fool yourself into thinking that all the pain and exhaustion was worth it.
Almost everything I do is due to deliberate serendipity.
I have to keep generating stuff because most of my stuff is junk. Once in a while I create a masterpiece. Then I paint over it.
You have to be both looking for the painting and not. The act of producing art is the art itself.
Abstract art is meaningless.
I paint what I feel. Sometimes I donʼt feel so good.
If itʼs any good, make it big.
The paint goes on.
Iʼm good at pretending to be an artist. If you pretend long enough you become good.
Abstract is a process, not a style. (my paraphrase of Duncan Phillips)
Artists are temporary. Art isnʼt.
Abstract art refers to nothing. That is itʼs something.
Defining abstract art excludes abstract art by definition.
There is no what or where or who in abstract art, only why. And that just barely.
Itʼs fun to think about abstract art. On Tuesdays.
Let the painting speak. Itʼs not a dialogue. I fail when I donʼt shut up.
Iʼm an artist. I donʼt know what I do. So donʼt ask.
Jazz : Music
Abstract : Art
My work looks better at night. With the lights off.
How hard is painting? Well, when looking at two paintings, you might say –
This painting is overworked. And that painting is underworked.
One is too complicated and one is too simple.
Finding that moment when you stop painting is the hardest moment to realize.
Itʼs all instinct at that moment.
You canʼt teach it. Realizing when to stop is much harder than realizing where to begin, and realizing where to begin is a logical impossibility. THATʼS how hard it is.
My work looks better at a distance. At about half a mile.
A perfect day: paint, rinse, make love, rinse. Repeat.
You forget to look at the mountains when youʼre at the beach.
I think before I paint, and after I paint, but never during the painting.
Youʼll never – ever – find inspiration if you go looking for it.
I just choose colors and release energy.
In art the only way you learn is by doing. It is the very definition of creativity.
Listen to instinct. Follow instinct. Create instinct.
You need to go to the next step. Always.
If you paint by someone else’s rules
If you paint by someone else’s rules, you paint someone else’s painting.
Art is more than what you see on the canvas, it extends as far as the imagination can travel. Art knows no borders, recognizes no authority, accepts no dominion; at its best, art is free and bold, full of all the qualities which make us human. It is the expression, and the record, of the creation of the human soul.
And it’s a hell of a lot of fun to make.
The Canvas
The canvas is the universe – the galaxies, stars, spaces, forces, times and distances, going on forever until it ends with it beginning again, as an edge that curves back upon itself or an explosion that implodes into itself. A universe comes to life on a canvas, and you are lucky enough to be standing right in front of it as it happens. If you believe in luck. But even if you don’t, the same thing happens.
A canvas presents things you can see, and feel, and touch, and, if you try, things you can taste and hear. But it’s not about sensing what is there – it’s about what you believe is there. That is the abstraction in a work of abstract art: the work is what you abstract from the art.
So, amidst all the stars, the galaxies, the spaces, the darkness and the light, the work of art is you standing at the center of it all, experiencing a metaphor of the universe only you can know.
The canvas is blank. The artist is god. Go create something.
cracked lines in the street
explosions of wildflowers
this is abstract art
27 april 2020
To me this means:
Abstract inspiration is all around you constantly evolving.
This first haiku inspired more haiku (shown below), and they all inspired my evolving show entitled:
this is abstract art
The following haiku were written 28 april 2020:
alphabetizing
the patterns of birds flying
this is abstract art
To me this means:
Using human-made structures to understand natural patterns – to identify more than understand, to merely classify – is a limited and finite method to try to comprehend the unlimited and infinite power of creation.
in comedy acts
the laughter creates the joke
this is abstract art
To me this means:
An audience is needed to complete the act of creation. This thought influences my understanding of the relationship between humans and god.
the smells of colors
the tastes of shapes and spaces this is abstract art
To me this means:
How attributing characteristics to process gives the (process and its results) a life we can recognize, label, discuss, and criticize.
opening windows
combines inside and outside
this is abstract art
To me this means:
A canvas acts as a window, rotating in/out, artist/audience; what you see is who created
it/who created it is what you see; that which is outside is brought inside and vice versa; barriers, separations are broken down, and artist/art is combined with whatever or whoever looks in,
and out.
get out of the way
let the crowd come roaring through
this is abstract art
To me this means:
Kill your ego, step aside and/or let the energy of the universe pour through you (into you) and create something you don’t know. You are a conduit.
journeys never end
but you must learn when to stop
this is abstract art
To me this means:
When do you draw the line and say it is complete? It never is, art lives on, through generations of interpretation and appreciation, but the artist has to decide when he or she is done. Why did God stop after 7 days? Why not 8 or 10 or 1,000 or – isn’t God STILL creating every minute?
The Perfection of Art
I hear people talk about the perfection of art but I don’t think art is supposed to be perfect because we’re not perfect and art reflects, if, indeed, it reflects anything, those who created it. Art fades, grows old, grows stale, may be rediscovered and become once again relevant to a current moment, and then perhaps it shines briefly once more before fading away again, or, in some rare cases, it seemingly shines forever. Art is one way we humans pass along our impressions, intelligence, and information from generation to generation. Frankly, I don’t know what my art passes on but I do know that it’s imperfect, and that doesn’t bother me at all.
Notes on the Metal Sculptures
The creation of these sculptures goes right to the basis of the question we all ask at one time or another: what is art?
Some say that art is formed by forces beyond us. Artists are merely conduits. Or –
We artists make it all up. There is no greater Creator. We are the creator. Or –
As most believe – the creative process consists of parts of both of these explanations.
We may be inspired to a degree – but what we make of it, how we shape it, what we choose to use and what we choose to discard form the basis of the actual creation of a work of art; in other words, what we do after the inspiration has occurred completes the creation of a work of art.
It is more than fair to ask these questions:
What have I done with these sculptures? What role have I played in their creation?
First, I recognized the art within.
Then I baked them for years in the sun.
Then I cleaned them, finding the shapes that you see before you.
Then I adjusted – every so slightly in some cases – their bends and curves.
Then I varnished them. Twice.
Then I decided their orientation.
All of these actions revealed the art within. Then I presented them.
What was the inspiration?
I think it was the greater energy – the power – that is greater than all. Some refer to it as God the Creator. Some call it a Greater Energy. Some term it Nature.
In this case the energy of creation obviously came from one of the most primal of the four natural powers: water.
The power of the ocean to take a human-made piece of metal and twist it and break it and bend it is far beyond any single human’s power. And these objects are forged over time – long periods of time, beyond the time time it takes for them to rust (think of that – beyond the time of rust) – and they are carried over great distances during their creation – which, profoundly and simultaneously, also manifests the power it takes to destroy them – for it is in their very destruction, their transition from human-made to nature-made which ultimately re-creates them; then, oddly enough, a human artist comes along who recognizes the potential art within the object and reveals it, thus completing a cycle of human-made item to nature-made object to human-made art. In this case, I happen to be that artist.
Parallel creative efforts abound. Art work is seen and revealed in rocks, in marble, in wood, in practically any natural medium– this potential is then revealed and displayed by an artist who cleans, polishes, stains – any number of actions can be taken upon the object and to any degree – in order to enhance its appreciation.
Some of these sculptures capture in their twisted metal the power of a wave; in fact, they reflect the wave, and, eccentrically enough, it is the wave which created them. The sculpture embodies its creator. Yet it is only the power that it reflects. For the metal is heavy and of course cannot float nor be part of any wave. It rolls on the bottom of the sea against coarse rock and sand, broken and twisted by the waves, until it is left on the beach, inspired but unfinished, waiting for someone to discover it and complete it.
Some of these sculptures suggest that humans attempted to make something out of this metal but that this something was taken over and and taken apart and taken back by nature. The sculptures reflect the sheer dominance of nature’s power over humans. We make our strongest item out of our strongest metals and nature twists it apart like it was candy.
If you want to pray to something greater than you, if you want to appreciate that power and that energy, then one of these sculptures can be your shrine – for in that twisted metal lies the power, and perhaps the glory, of nature, or, as some may say, of god. But unlike a prayer to a religious icon, do not expect a reply from this sculpture. This god, as evidenced and represented by the pieces of metal, is saying that you will not find that strength to cope with life in the creation of the thing that was made out of this metal, you will not find that kind of energy in the thing that the humans created – but you may find this energy in the creation of the creation of the twisted metal itself, as manifested in the form of a sculpture which embodies a power greater than anything humans can create. If you can see that, then that is your strength, that is your energy, that is what you may use to cope with life.
Now these sculptures can be taken to mean all of these things, or some of them, or none of them. Interpretations of their meanings remains as subjective as determining the meanings of all pieces of art.
I recognized what they could be (to me), and I completed the transition from found twisted metal to sculpted art object.
I believe they are powerful because they do actually and literally embody the inspirational energy we can feel in the world around us, and they exist in their current form because a human felt the energy of the inspiration and created something with it. It is this peculiar interaction between being inspired and acting upon that inspiration that fascinates me about all artistic creations.
For the curious, regarding the titles of the sculptures:
The titles are taken from the names of the thousands of daughters created by the Titans Oceanus and Tethys; these nymphs are collectively referred to as Oceanids in Greek mythology. Some names suggest themes, such as Plouto (wealth), Tyche (good fortune), Idyia (knowing), and Metis (wisdom).
A few of my beliefs which is why I do what I do:
Art allows you to tell the truth.
Abstract art directly expresses an artist’s feeling. The viewer completes the art process.
The hardest thing is to know when you’re done. Price does not determine value.
What I think I think
I think I think:
I hardly think when I paint a painting.
It is nearly the opposite when I write a book. There are no words in my head when I paint. There are only words in my head when I write. I express the moment when I paint.
I express a continuum when I write.
I translate feelings onto canvas when I paint.
I translate ideas onto paper when I write.
But one thing I do know is:
Whatever I make comes in a rectangle.
2019
The King Speaks Gibberish
“The King Speaks Gibberish” is the title of one my favorite paintings. Since Americans don’t have a King, you may substitute the name of a leader of your choice.
Nearly a hundred years ago Yeats wrote “The best lack all conviction, while the worst / Are full of passionate intensity.” His words might describe our times.
One of the jobs of the artist is to provide social commentary. This is easier to do with words, and hardest to do with abstract art.
But the feelings of frustration, hope, anger, wonder, and others which describe our responses to our current political situation can be expressed in abstract art, and the viewer, realizing that his or her feelings are mutual and shared, is invited to act upon them, and the restore conviction into the best of us.
I work with a passionate intensity. I care about what I do. I know its value isn’t determined by its price. I sincerely hope you respond to my work.
if given the chance,
with water, air, fire and dirt,
the earth heals itself