A little side step.
When asked to make a donation of artwork for a fundraiser, I had a chance to do these two small (6” x 8”) pieces over the holidays. It was an experiment. I wasn’t comfortable working in this size, but there were, as there always are, lessons to learn.
Of course, every mark makes a bigger impact in a smaller format. That’s common sense. But, gesture, it appears, is an important part of my vocabulary. This small format was constraining. My ability to do “improv” felt lacking. Instead, I erred on the side of precision — painting within the lines — something I have known myself to do, but something I try to resist. (Why’s that?)
I worried I was overworking everything.
The canvas surface was hard to make marks on with the pastel and crayon. Colored pencil worked but felt weak and ragged.
Colors became problematic. Quickly there was too much of one color. Overlapping transparent paint to get shading and depth escaped me. The blocks of color were just dabs and even small brushes obscured things quickly. The white paint that I normally use to define background and foreground shapes and space was not doing its usual trick (or not in the expansive way I have been using it). The paintings weren’t “breathing” in the way my bigger pieces do.
And then I get a text.
I was asked to title the paintings and they weren’t even done. My usual title format — insert the model’s name (this time once again Isaiah) and the numbered order they were painted in — was insufficient.
What were these paintings about?
Trying to figure out how to paint small? Really? I can’t adjust my mark-making to a smaller format?
“We can just list them as Untitled #1 and #2 in the catalogue.”
I almost said, “alright” — but these are going to be shown to a group of people who aren’t familiar with my work. I felt like I needed to supply some context — which is an interesting lesson of its own. (Why’s that?)
I offered, “Let’s try Figure #1 and #2.”
And once that was out of the way I felt freer to have a conversation with the canvases. They told me I didn’t need more white. It was all right for lines to be ragged. It was all right to be colorful and figurative. And with that I started to see what was there in the space between. Some familiar shapes. Hints at “other” figures. A mood. A sense of being. And some new relationships in color and form.
These are small, intimate paintings. They are asking the viewer to come closer if the detail is important. If not, there is enough to intrigue them from a distance. That’s what small can do.
Size matters. Size changes distance. And distance determines how much space between there is that needs to be filled in.
In the future I will consider distance more. What does it take to visual intimate, personal, social, and public space?
Lesson one done. More lessons to be learned.