The recent journey
January, 2017. I hadn't painted in a while. Out of nowhere, I felt a strong urge to capture an idea that had been gnawing at me for a while. I bought a ready-made canvas 38 x 30 inches. There was a high level plan in terms of what the finished painting would look like but each mark would be unplanned. Improvised. To paraphrase a phrase, the idea would be taken for a walk. Painted flat, on a table top, probably whilst wearing a flat cap, this is where that walk ended up:
It reminded me of a painting, I'd done about ten years earlier.
Later that month I stuck two sheets of paper on the back of a table tennis table and did this drawing. You might be able to discern that the drawing comprises about 4 cut out elements stuck together collage-like:
..which later grew into..
I thought the drawing actually might have been more satisfying if it hadn't been confined to a square. I simplified the idea and did this digital drawing:
In February I bought a sheet of 18mm plywood and created this:
A mix of acrylics, oils and household glosses, each colour used only once. Too many colours probably, but I had freed myself from the shackles of the rectangle with its accursed 90 degree angles and the possibilities were intriguing. More followed that year. This one probably the most successful.
Fast forward to February 2019. The mother of invention. Painting a fairly large oil painting in a restricted, domestic environment (in the dark English winter) has its drawbacks. Solution: cut the wood into separate pieces and paint each panel in isolation. That would also bring a satisfying random element into the creative process.
Three panels painted flat on a table-top on three February evenings; would I be pleased with the result of the final integration of the three panels born on separate evenings? Fortunately, yes!
The viewer 'completes' the triangle of the red warning sign in their mind. The misaligned zig-zags across the three panels are intended to frustrate the eye of the viewer but in a pleasurable way. Pleasingly frustrating.
Would it have worked as a square canvas? Possibly for others but not for me. The irregularity of shape was the whole point.
The illusory pictorial window is a powerful, enduring mental model that we take for granted; we don't notice the familiar rectangular frame at all; we look past it into the pictorial space; in art galleries, when we watch TV, at the cinema, on computer screens.
The disruption of the familiar, rectangular format presents an aesthetic challenge both to me and the viewer. The irregular edges, being unexpected, can't be ignored. They therefore become a vital and dynamic compositional component of the work; I liked the idea of a 'poetry of space'. I wanted their assertive solidity as objects to take the viewer's attention away from narrative or nostalgia and bring it sharply into the present moment.
This is the most recent stop on the journey. Back to the square with a vengeance. Six panels this time. Planet of waves. Unconsciously inspired, on reflection, from recently seeing Mondrian's masterpiece Pier and Ocean on Simon Schama's Civilisations documentary. I wanted the finished image to be more unpainted space (suggested) rather than painted. Colour still there but turned right down. I think this could be the first in a series.
The journey has taught me that whilst images and ideas swim constantly in and out of consciousness, to truly grow and become something they must take concrete form. There is a limit to how much they can be thought out. They must be worked out. An evolving idea needs visual feedback.
Later that month I stuck two sheets of paper on the back of a table tennis table and did this drawing. You might be able to discern that the drawing comprises about 4 cut out elements stuck together collage-like:
..which later grew into..
In February I bought a sheet of 18mm plywood and created this:
A mix of acrylics, oils and household glosses, each colour used only once. Too many colours probably, but I had freed myself from the shackles of the rectangle with its accursed 90 degree angles and the possibilities were intriguing. More followed that year. This one probably the most successful.
Fast forward to February 2019. The mother of invention. Painting a fairly large oil painting in a restricted, domestic environment (in the dark English winter) has its drawbacks. Solution: cut the wood into separate pieces and paint each panel in isolation. That would also bring a satisfying random element into the creative process.
Three panels painted flat on a table-top on three February evenings; would I be pleased with the result of the final integration of the three panels born on separate evenings? Fortunately, yes!
The viewer 'completes' the triangle of the red warning sign in their mind. The misaligned zig-zags across the three panels are intended to frustrate the eye of the viewer but in a pleasurable way. Pleasingly frustrating.
Would it have worked as a square canvas? Possibly for others but not for me. The irregularity of shape was the whole point.
The illusory pictorial window is a powerful, enduring mental model that we take for granted; we don't notice the familiar rectangular frame at all; we look past it into the pictorial space; in art galleries, when we watch TV, at the cinema, on computer screens.
The disruption of the familiar, rectangular format presents an aesthetic challenge both to me and the viewer. The irregular edges, being unexpected, can't be ignored. They therefore become a vital and dynamic compositional component of the work; I liked the idea of a 'poetry of space'. I wanted their assertive solidity as objects to take the viewer's attention away from narrative or nostalgia and bring it sharply into the present moment.
This is the most recent stop on the journey. Back to the square with a vengeance. Six panels this time. Planet of waves. Unconsciously inspired, on reflection, from recently seeing Mondrian's masterpiece Pier and Ocean on Simon Schama's Civilisations documentary. I wanted the finished image to be more unpainted space (suggested) rather than painted. Colour still there but turned right down. I think this could be the first in a series.
The journey has taught me that whilst images and ideas swim constantly in and out of consciousness, to truly grow and become something they must take concrete form. There is a limit to how much they can be thought out. They must be worked out. An evolving idea needs visual feedback.