Art & Perception

Birgit’s post brings up some troublesome memories.

My three boys, in their earlier years, drew a lot. Much of it consisted of takes on what they saw in the media with some creative things here and there. In the late nineties I began to eye these drawings, curious about their potential as subject matter: what if I projected them on boards and applied paint..?..

I felt a need to ask permission of the boys. Theirs was a “whatever” attitude, most of the drawings beyond memory or caring. I tried to find examples that didn’t include Stars Wars episodes or Batman, and which had the aspect of a personal narrative. There were, among the hampers full of these things, a limited number that were fairly well composed.

How to paint the images? Most had few spatial cues, with elements positioned where space allowed. The boys were not colorists by nature, so I had little to go on in that regard. Should the cast of characters occupy some sort of floating world, or should they be grounded in some fashion? I labored through a dozen or more attempts in a quest to find common ground between the originals and my own ideas.

One of the few that emerged as a somewhat satisfactory composite was this depiction, by Bret, of two characters engaged in a public arm-wrestling match. I scored a masonite surface with a Dremel and rubbed in the color. The negative spaces were given a gold finish. The painting is about four feet long.

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This horse is the earliest painting by Karl that I treasure. The cheap acid paper has darkened with time. The purple/maroon colors have faded. Time to archive the horse as a digital print. Taking the frame apart for the removal of the glass, I noticed that the paints were absorbed on the foam board backing so that I now the original painting plus a print of it.

Was the hand of the small child directed by something bigger than himself to paint the lines of the horse’s head given his tender age? The lines makes me think of Zen. more… »

About five months ago I described my indecision regarding goals or approaches in my horse project. I can now happily report that I’m still unresolved. It appears that simply making lots of photographs doesn’t necessarily result in refinement. I’ve decided to consider this a good thing, since that’s how it is, anyway. Perhaps one lesson can be drawn: to every style there is a season. Lately in Montana the season has been winter, and a look noted earlier has remained prominent, namely one featuring the texture of snow, especially falling snow, sometimes combined with motion-related texture.

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This is dawn on the Colorado Plateau before I put my glasses on. This particular scene from my bag looks better that way.

Yes, in fact.

A two month toil refinishing the bathroom is coming to a close and its time for that finishing touch. This led us to a round of boutiques. One was Flower Child, an emporium known for its selection of leg lamps. It is a warren of clutter and I had to pull out the camera.

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I continue to get out and about in my Portland neighborhood, painting whatever resonates with my quirky instincts. I plant my easel on the sidewalk, set up my palette, and proceed to put color on board.

This activity invites community action: sideways glances, deliberate not-lookings, polite “may I see-s?” and full-fledged engagement in conversations.

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Despite the theme of a difficult, overwhelming environment in last week’s post, the Anasazi left many ruins that seem sturdy enough to stand up to it, and perhaps even be a source of power. Sometimes, in the photograph, that impression comes from strong lighting of a well-built structure.

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