Well, the studio seems very cool and empty this morning. The work for this year’s show, Layers, at the West End Gallery has been delivered and I am left to clank around in a lot more open space, which is like having an empty canvas or a blank sheet of paper before you, the moment filled with possibility.
There’s exhilaration in this instant but also a bit of sadness at not having those now gone paintings close at hand. There was something comforting and inspiring in having them surround me in the studio. Their presence reinforced my belief in the work and new ideas and concepts were always bouncing from them, begging to be taken up. They were very much like friends, albeit mute ones.
But, as you would hope for any friend, they must at some point set out on their own and find their own place in the world. Reach their own potential. And hopefully they soon will. That would be most gratifying for me. After nearly two decades of showing my work now, I am always surprised at how many people have told me about the relationships they maintain with my works, how they continue to find something personally meaningful for themselves even after years of having the painting in their homes. It would be enough to have the work simply decorating their homes or offices but to have it fulfill any greater role is a great pleasure and thrill, giving meaning to the time I spend in this now empty studio.
So, with hopes those friends who have went out into the world find homes in which they can serve some purpose, I start anew. Looking for a new friend to spend some time with me here. Just part of the rhythm and cycle of what I do.
The piece shown here, Stepping Up, is part of the show at the West End Gallery. It is 6″ by 26″ on paper. The show was being hung yesterday evening so if you would like a preview, stop in this weekend.
I think
allmost of us develop relationships with certain objects over time, too. A painting remains vibrant not only because of its intrinsic qualities, but also because, as the viewer changes, what he or she sees in the painting changes. It’s an artistic corollary to Heraclitus’s famous dictum: no one steps into the same river twice.