Subjectivity. My own... here is a short display of what I sometimes go through as I am assessing work. Start with two sketches, the paintings from photographs, like yesterday's, of the Sound peeking through:
The top drawing is, for me, too claustrophobic. I was working to "make visible" the spaces between the tree branches, to give them their own space, but, instead, they are clogged with paint. The lower sketch, however, still has both air and sky... it is, to me, a far better indicator of the "space between" that I saw on my walk.
But, then, my husband says that all argument and interpretation is made up of logic, observations, references, definitions, etc., assembled to prove, support or demonstrate ideas arrived at spontaneously, by intuition, in a flash. We feel ... and then we scramble to prove the feeling to be right or "true." So, in the case of the drawings above, I say that the top sketch is claustrophobic because of clogged paint. I want to try to "explain" my feeling. Perhaps, in art, that isn't always possible.
Showing posts with label the space between. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the space between. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
"The Mediterranean is always just white, white, white..."
-- or so Cy Twombly told an art critic (quoted in The Guardian's Twombly obituary) as they were discussing his series of 24 drawings "Poems to the Sea." Sometimes the sea is white. The Long Island sound was white this morning, on my walk, and I was seduced by the spaces between the houses, where the sea gleamed through, whitecaps on pale greys and blues. Here is my photograph:
and the same photograph, painted, to show the "white" sea:
and the same photograph, painted, to show the "white" sea:
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