Fast painting

I used to believe that the more slowly and deliberately a thing was done- specifically a work of art- the better. I thought that because I saw slowness as proof of deliberation, thoughtfulness, and care.

These concerns were fundamentally moral. They don't necessarily need to be present in the aesthetic sphere- a work of art can equally well be spontaneous, thoughtless and careless. It just depends on your terms.

There's no proving that one set of values is better than the other because in the end the artwork is just a thing: it has no moral life and - though part of me rages against this- it doesn't really matter very much in the scheme of things anyway.

Personally, I've always been a much better fast artist than a slow one. If the pace is too slow I get bored- I don't concentrate more. On the contrary, if I have too much time to make corrections then I over-edit. I fuss, changing things that don't need changing, blunting my original message with compromise.

This is partly why monotype is such an appealing medium for me, it's "time-limited", you have to get the image right in an hour or two or the ink dries. But I have attempted to discover the same midset in painting, here.

Painting

Art critics have often declared the "death of painting", much as literary critics have declared "the death of the novel".

As a vehicle for innovative thought painting is clearly a reduced force. It simply isn't easy to respond spontaneously to a medium which has such a long, distinguished pedigree. Even artistic trends which were once perceived as wayward, and radical are now weighed down with academic discourse. Abstract expressionism, for instance is now a considered tradition, with "masters" and "schools", as is Surrealism. And images and information about individual works is much more readily available. This means that when you're working on a piece it's hard to avoid making comparisons with the work of other artists- comparisons which "cramp your style".

And personally, I feel when I am working in other media, such as wire, or playing with paper a lightness and creative energy that can be hard to find when mixing paints.

However, in the right frame of mind, there really is nothing comparable to the expressive wit of painting. I mean, the delightful process of applying pressing a paint laden brush to a canvas, of mixing colours- the physicality of this is delicious. Although the painting I worked on yesterday (above) falls into the Kupka -Klee - Nicolas de Staël - Franz Kline school of geometric abstraction the physical pleasure of handling paint is enough to make it worthwhile, and its possible failure to explore new creative territory pales in significance.

For such sensory reasons alone- the pleasure of handling paint- I think that even if painting declines in importance, and ceases to be taught in art schools, it'll never totally disappear.

The painting above is a tribute to Paul Celan, and is titled, "Where did the road lead when it led nowhere?"

There was earth inside them, and they dug.

They dug and they dug, so their day
went by for them, their night. And they did not praise God,
who, so they heard, wanted all this,
who, so they heard, knew all this.

They dug and heard nothing more;
they did not grow wise, invented no song,
thought up for themselves no language.
They dug.

There came a stillness, and there came a storm,
and all the oceans came.
I dig, you dig, and the worm digs too,
and that singing out there says: They dig.

O one, o none, o no one, o you:
Where did the way lead then it led nowhere?
O you dig and I dig , and I dig towards you,
and on our finger the ring awakes.

by Paul Celan, from the 1963 collection, "Die Niemandsrose"
Translated by Martin Hamburger.

Bark

Some recent photos of tree barks. The series will include fungi, mosses and lichens too. The variety is amazing.

I haven't researched which species they are- if readers know, please write using the comments box.

Battlefield

The scenery here reminded me of First World War battelfield paintings by Paul Nash.

Of course, timber is a crop like any other, but the sight of trees felled, and the destruction of the terrain that that entails has an especially emotive effect.

Perhaps this is connected with the depth of identification that it is possible for humans to feel with trees.

Wire world

Working with wire to make simple sculptures, like drawing in air.

Initially I'd intended these wire structures as armatures for mobiles, but having started playing with the wire it seemed more satisfying to keep them clean and simple- the wire itself is so lively and expressive.

The Unavoidability of Cliche

These sort of images of weathered surfaces- walls, doors, faces even- are perhaps a photographic cliche. Nonetheless, they are extremely enjoyable. This is partly because they reveal something that cameras are especially good at, which is the surface detail. This detail is particularly evident when the photos are black and white.

At what point should a subject in art be avoided because it has been done before? When does it become exhausted? What is the difference between a cliche and a tradition?

With so many images available so easily online it is now very evident how unoriginal most of them are- and I include my own work in this generalisation.

Maybe the only way to continue making art is to accept the limits of originality with humour?

Slow week

It has been a doleful week. My lack of energy worsened by the coldness of this apartment which seems to have the effect of immobilising me close to our one, tiny bar heater: flats in Southern Brazil don't often have heating, even though it's always quite coold in the winter.

Anyway, with a view to shifting my conception of what art production is onto the digital age, I cleared out old photo files from the computer. I installed the counters (below)- though for some reason I do not really trust them. And I continued work on the mobiles, cutting out more shapes and considering better how to use them- including a wider varierty of shapes and experimenting with flash, and different coloured filters.

The thing is not to lose the naive, folk art feel of the cutouts in the course of photographing them. If the photograph is too highly manipulated this gets lost and the result is like an overproduced live recording of a performance.

You can see the work so far, here-

http://www.flickr.com/photos/28509471@N05/sets/72157621606358902/