Paintings, unlike photographs, are expressions of memory not of moment. Between observing the object and the brush making its mark, time passes and the present is in another place no matter how still the model. The viewpoint will never be exactly as it was the moment before.
In my latest series I find I am struggling to adapt to an endless shift of being. Sustaining myself in the conversation with the canvas has presented unsettling challenges that are more conscious than in the two previous series.
I question my intention. I decided my intention was to paint the experience of what I observed in the space between myself and the model. I am not trying to paint the model as a figure only but as the essence in that moment in time — as I remember it. The initial sketch is just a few quick “notes” on what was there at that time. But if I only intend to paint the model then I am not in this moment — I’m in the past.
I question my process. The process is to use my “alphabet” (a predetermined set of techniques) to describe the experience — but which experience? The one of observing the model or the one of creating the work on canvas? This series seems weighted to my responses to the canvas more than the model. My “foothold” feels tentative and I’m searching more than recording.
Forming and fading.
Repeat.
The canvas has the upper hand. I am responding. The memory submerges replaced by a conversation unconsciously started. Everything that was there still is, but some or all of it can no longer be seen.
The only control I have is when to stop and/or start again. Once I have committed myself all I can do is make the next brushstroke, then step back, and see what the canvas is asking to be done next.
Forming and fading.
Like a memory.
Like dreams.
Like relationships.
Like time.
I struggle to paint in an endless state of being in change or in charge.
The possibilities are endless. The feelings are too. I face the fact that it is possible that the painting never ends.
The image is formed. The memory notated. The moment changes. The form fades. The painting changes. The memory is added. Parts of the painting submerge. What was there is no longer visible, but still exists in recorded memories below layers of paint.
A painting is made.