Lucky Lager
10" x 8"
Part of the process of working in series is that you can pursue multiple permutations of a motif. The colors and design of the Lucky Lager were remarkably different than the other crushed cans I've painted. The near total obliteration of the text, "Lucky," in this rendition calls into question the meaning of that word.
Detail of: Lucky Lager
I've painted the Classic Coke can numerous times by now, but this one is on a slightly larger scale, which changes things marginally. The forms and the lines that arise as a result of the crushing and manipulation of the structure of the can take on a presence when the scale is increased.
Coke Classic III
14" x 10"
Detail of Coke Classic III
I've painted the typewriter before as well - though only once before in its entirety. In this one I wanted the silver keys to loom out of the darkness of the machine and background. The previous whole typewriter had a light background and shadows playing over the keys. This one has an emphasis on the silveriness of the keys and other parts of the machine that are silver and thus subtly reflect other colours.
Remington Cadet
24" x 24"
Detail of Remington Cadet
Detail of Remington Cadet
The money jar has both silver and pennies in it, but no bills this time. I used a mirrored surface in this instance rather than the wood table of my previous depictions because I wanted to attempt the cooler colours and more neutral feeling of the dark grey and black glass. I also wanted to show different textures - the brushed steel of the jar's lid, the glass of the jar, the various textures and surfaces of the coins, and then the mirrored glass as a base - and see how they would play off of each other. Perhaps another interesting thing to note is that there is a button in the jar which only shows up in this rendition of the object so far.
Coin Jar
18" x 12"
Detail of Coin Jar
I mention all this to show that painting a series of objects is not just a case of dull repetition - repeating a theme or motif can be a vehicle for experimentation with all the many permutations that evolve from looking at a thing over a period of time. For an artist, this repeating of a theme can be full of discovery, inspiration and include a deepening understanding of the harmony possible concerning light, colour, surfaces.
There's a poem by the American poet Denise Levertov in which she talks about Cezanne painting the same image over and over, which says quite a lot, I think. It is the seeking for that previously unseen "inflection of light" that causes one to repeat and repeat a theme. To turn the object a degree or two, and paint it from another side, or to crush a can in a different, maybe more tortured manner. Or to wait for the light from another time of day, or from another season even, when it's lower and softer and weaker.
For Those Whom the Gods Love Less
(Denise Levertov)
When you discover
your new work travels the ground you had traversed
decades ago, you wonder, panicked,
'Have I outlived my vocation? Said already
all that was mine to say?'
There's a remedy -
only one - for the paralysis seizing your throat to mute you,
numbing your hands: Remember the great ones, remember Cezanne
doggedly
sur le motif, his mountain
a tireless noonday angel he grappled like Jacob,
demanding reluctant blessing. Remember James rehearsing
over and over his theme, the loss
of innocence and the attainment
(note by separate note sounding its tone
until by accretion a chord resounds) of somber
understanding. Each life in art
goes forth to meet dragons that rise from their bloody scales
in cyclic rhythm: Know and forget, know and forget.
It's not only
the passion for
getting it right (thought it's that, too)
it's the way
radiant epiphanies recur, recur,
consuming, pristine, unrecognized-
until remembrance dismays you. And then, look,
some inflection of light, some wing of shadow
is other, unvoiced. You can, you must
proceed.
from
Sands of the Well
~ Please
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