Process oriented. This is how in 2009 one of my instructors at The College at Brockport SUNY describes my approach to creating work. I also work with concepts: the beauty of impermanence, the textural character of nature, the manifestation of ethereal qualities. But these are just thoughts that float forward as I select collage pieces, cut paper with an x-acto, weave strips, and perform all of the practical steps that move concept into reality. So it is with the latest fan (Black & White Fan #19) to emerge from my studio.
In the midst of working on this fan, I remember the principle of balancing activity on the paper with a "place for the eye to rest." Every viewer that inhales a landscape crowded with trees, hills and meadows also needs an expanse of sky, or at least the still surface of a pond, where they can exhale. Did I give you a place to rest in this fan? Does the balance of texture, scale, black and white values, positive and negative space, and imagery as well as mystery work for you? Before I put the finishing touches on this fan, I ask myself those very questions, even if in a nonverbal intuitive fashion.
Did I stop soon enough? Too soon? Through trial and error over the years, I am finetuning my sense of when to stop. Sooner rather than later is generally better. Keep it fresh instead of belabored. I want you to feel the shadow of my hand having just left the piece.
This breath, the inhalation and exhalation, are on my mind lately because my body wants to involuntarily cough spasmodically. The lingering of a cold, turned bronchitis turned walking pneumonia where, after a month, I barely remember the freedom of breathing without a tightness in my chest and bronchial tubes. Occasionally I attempt the Vipassana-style meditation of watching the breath, particularly the quiet space between inhalation and exhalation. It's a wonderful space, a place to rest.
We breathe 22,000 times each day; a fact I discovered while a nontraditional student at SUNY working on a mixed-media project. I started with a concept: body by the numbers. How to visually and abstractly portray these phenomena? Through the process of playing with materials, breathing 22,000 times daily expresses itself as dual plastic tubes, one filled with teabag paper and the other with a diaphonous white tissue. This series departs from the Asian-aesthetic imbued in the art I make today, but is nonetheless valid in that it provided me figurative breathing space to create anew. I think of the experience as existing in the space between inhalation and exhalation.
Black & White Fan #19 is part of the invitational exhibition "Connecting Concept to Medium: Fiber Art in South Carolina," opening September 7 and continuing through November 14 at the Pickens County Museum of Art and History.
In the midst of working on this fan, I remember the principle of balancing activity on the paper with a "place for the eye to rest." Every viewer that inhales a landscape crowded with trees, hills and meadows also needs an expanse of sky, or at least the still surface of a pond, where they can exhale. Did I give you a place to rest in this fan? Does the balance of texture, scale, black and white values, positive and negative space, and imagery as well as mystery work for you? Before I put the finishing touches on this fan, I ask myself those very questions, even if in a nonverbal intuitive fashion.
Did I stop soon enough? Too soon? Through trial and error over the years, I am finetuning my sense of when to stop. Sooner rather than later is generally better. Keep it fresh instead of belabored. I want you to feel the shadow of my hand having just left the piece.
This breath, the inhalation and exhalation, are on my mind lately because my body wants to involuntarily cough spasmodically. The lingering of a cold, turned bronchitis turned walking pneumonia where, after a month, I barely remember the freedom of breathing without a tightness in my chest and bronchial tubes. Occasionally I attempt the Vipassana-style meditation of watching the breath, particularly the quiet space between inhalation and exhalation. It's a wonderful space, a place to rest.
We breathe 22,000 times each day; a fact I discovered while a nontraditional student at SUNY working on a mixed-media project. I started with a concept: body by the numbers. How to visually and abstractly portray these phenomena? Through the process of playing with materials, breathing 22,000 times daily expresses itself as dual plastic tubes, one filled with teabag paper and the other with a diaphonous white tissue. This series departs from the Asian-aesthetic imbued in the art I make today, but is nonetheless valid in that it provided me figurative breathing space to create anew. I think of the experience as existing in the space between inhalation and exhalation.
Black & White Fan #19 is part of the invitational exhibition "Connecting Concept to Medium: Fiber Art in South Carolina," opening September 7 and continuing through November 14 at the Pickens County Museum of Art and History.
