Changes...

The last few months have been filled with newness. Now that I have a new place (and consequently a work space), I'm eager to dive into the art world again. I'll be diving solitary for now... but dives are done that way, if you think about it. I whipped out my copy of Theories and Documents of Contemporary Art to get into the brains of some of the greats and encourage myself to think/write/practice more.

A reflection on Barnett Newman's The Plasmic Image (1943-45):

His first sentence is, "the subject matter of creation is chaos," something I agree with completely. I've always had an interest in chaos's role in the process of making art. To quote my own statement (which could use some updating),

I do not manipulate my media as it evolves, just as I cannot control inevitability in life ... The unpredictable nature of the irregular ice denotes unforeseen, inevitable change and acknowledges randomness as a contributor in the patterns of our lives.

As it turns out, his idea about chaos was closely related to how I feel about it, except for one thing. Newman writes,

The present painter can be said to work with chaos not only in the sense that he is handling the chaos of the blank picture plane but also in the he is handling the chaos of form. In trying to go beyond the visible and the known world he is working with forms that are unknown even to him. He is therefor engaged in a true act of discovery ... No matter what the psychologists say these forms arise from ... the present painter is not concerned with the process (26).

Surely it's obvious which statement I disagree with. I am very concerned with process-- my whole system is a process, one that I think balances my two needs for immediate gratification and a long opportunity to stew over what's happening in my paintings. However, pointing out Newman's take has made me wonder: Am I too concerned with process?

Almost every artist will admit, if they're being honest with you, that some of their best work was unplanned. Whether the work was made during a spontaneous creative urge, or under an influence, or simply not while trying, it's this work that oftentimes speaks loudest to an audience. Just this afternoon, I told a story about a drawing that is now hanging in my living room. I made it with dismay in a drawing class I despised in college. I thought the class was useless and wasteful of the time I could have been spending painting, but it was required so I had to show up to get credit. In class one evening I grimly scribbled a "wet drawing" (my cheat term for painting instead) of a pile of unused canvas that was on the table in front of me. The drawing is rough and unbalanced, but somehow wound up ...sophisticated(?!). My teacher was delighted and I was turned onto a new obsession for painting loose thread (see Threadlines). Now the drawing I couldn't wait to finish is something I admire.

Returning back to the question am I too concerned with process, this will be on my mind going forward. I've focused on a set of rules for creating my work and somehow became locked into parameters that may not be suitable for every particular piece. I'm struggling with two small pieces now because I want them to be similar to other recent pieces, but let me point out (you guessed it): those pieces were made with no special expectations or attention paid to them... they were supposed to be studies for a larger painting I was working on. "Studies" seem to work out well for me.

And this is why it's important to read the thoughts of other artists. If you're lucky, it'll make you question your habits, wonder about your process, and resonate on your past work. And if you're super lucky, sometimes it'll inspire something new.

Barnett Newman, Cathedra, 1951.