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Artist Statement
---Midnight Sonata -- Artistic process and anti-process--- An impulse. Surging through my being like some addictive substance from within the farthest reaches of my mind. Unavoidable and stubborn in its progression, it overwhelms and never fails to propel me towards the fresh opportunity ready and waiting at the easel... Middle of the night, the world around me at quiet slumber, 75 watt overhead bulb illuminates the studio and glares in blood shot eyes. Maybe mix just a bit more cerulean in. No, prussian and just a dab of white.... Addiction? Obsession.... The process is conscious yet subconscious -- an image is rarely preconceived, but rather it materializes through each oil laden swipe of the knife. It's rather chaotic in its conception in that traditional sketches and research are not only abandoned but ignored entirely. Spontaneity dominates the so-called creative "process", yet the formula remains constant -- atleast as constant as a spontaneous creative "process" will allow.... Ground and foreground interact with the spark and exhaustive release of a night spent. Melting together and separating at the shift of a hue, only to melt back into one another moments later. Pigments are chosen as a reflection of emotion as the contemplation evolves into being. Continued from corner to edge to corner and between, the white of the once fresh opportunity is devoured piece by piece, moment by moment. Window into a new dimension unveiled upon completion, its inhabitants emerging only after the scene has been set. They journey through the contemplation, melting and resurfacing like the atmosphere in which they reside. Stepping further into the canvas, they entice their audience to do the same. Walk the path and consider the possibilities of the unknown. Consider the notions set forth by their seemingly blind journey toward an end undepicted. Consider something more.... Methodical yet frenzied, the creation comes to fruition in one continuous sitting, no matter how long that may take. Just as a thought lingers in the recesses of the mind until acknowledged or confronted, such is the character of the muse within. That impulse that craves satiation. So it shall be satiated...until tomorrow. Palette knife comes to rest, mind slows to but a comfortable crawl. Eyes gaze upon the piece of my soul plucked from my subconscious like a Polaroid into my imagination. The silence of the early morning reminds me of my exhaustion. 75 watt bulb a mere memory. Sleep may now embrace me.... |
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May, 2012
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