“Pattern and Dispersion for November 21, 2011″
You can’t step in the same river twice, Heraclitus tells us, but is it possible to make the same painting twice? If it’s the same idea and same events that produce them, are they the same? Accident and chance and human error always interfere, but suppose chaos is part of the plan?
So to investigate this, I prepared sixteen 12″ x 12″ panels and set out a 4 x 4 pattern of sixteen froot loops in the center of each. Here’s a shot of just getting started:
I decided to spatter four rounds of four colors (sixteen layers of paint—are you starting to see the deep web of repeated repetition I’m weaving here?) I then worked out a plan for each spot masked by each froot loop. Each spot would get different exposures to the layers of paint, but they’d have the same plan from panel to panel—so the spot on the upper left would get all four rounds of yellow and all four rounds of red. I’m aiming at sixteen different color recipes. Here’s the schematic I did to help me keep track of which loops to remove each round of paint:
But the spattering process is inexact—I can’t get the coverage perfect. You can see how some panels got more yellow or blue than others. How does this affect the plan? Will the target colors be the same from panel to panel?
To add another level of obsession to the project, every round I randomly placed an additional loop on each painting. But exactly randomly: I divided each panel into 12 x 12 and randomized two sets of digits 1-12 to provide me exact coordinates for where the random loops will go (the example below shows me placing a loop at the 4, 4 position: 4 spaces over, 4 spaces down).
So all this to say—what? Well, what happens to our intentions when exposed to happenstance? Does repetition reveal intention? Each painting imperfectly reflects my intention, but do the images accumulate and present a clearer vision of my intent? How does revelation happen through accumulation of layers of data?
How does the experience of seeing only one painting alone differ from seeing all sixteen? The randomized loops initially look scattered and apparently chaotic, but can you can spot the light blue one in each painting? Look long enough and you’ll see other patterns. But they sure look accidental at first glance, no? How is the perception of these works changed by hearing the obsessive, detailed plan behind them? How is your experience of the art changed by knowing what the heck I was up to? Does it enhance or spoil the experience? What does it say about my intent as artist to share or hide my process?
And finally, what about life’s chaos around us? See any patterns? What’s hidden? What’s revealed?
“God’s Appointment Book for November 7, 2011″
I’ve been collecting books on the creative process, and the latest one I’m perusing is “Creators on Creating” a collection of writings by authors, artists and musicians on how they go about doing their thing. One chapter that struck me was by the poet W.B. Yeats, who thought that “will is the enemy of creation,” that creativity comes in a flash of enlightenment when the mind is wandering or in meditation or even in trance. He strove to “prolong the moment of contemplation, the moment when we are both asleep and awake, which is the moment of creation…”
So I was right all along about the value of lounging in bed in the morning—my most productive part of the day!
I’ve seen a lot in my reading of this tension/balance between the inward and outward. Some take a scientific/psychological approach that meditation allows the subconscious mind to work on the problem. Others take a mystical bent (like Yeats and Jung) that reflection dials us in to the “collective unconscious,” the “great memory.” Still others take a spiritual view that in order to be creative, we need to be filled with the spirit of the Creator.
My vote? All of the above! Hey, anything that promotes letting the mind wander is aces with me.
It’s a central idea in theology— “Islam” literally means “I submit.” Bhuddism is all about emptying and filling. And—especially appropriate to mention this Christmas season—scripture says Jesus is “seated at the right hand of God” because he “emptied himself, taking the form of a servant.” Power through relinquishing it. Cool.
So, does the will restrict creativity? Do we let something slip through our hands by grasping too hard?
To explore this idea in my paintings, I always deliberately introduce an element that forces me to relinquish control. In this painting, I submit to a random number generator, my good pals at www.random.org. Then I set out a 7 x 11 grid of 4″ square masks. Here I am setting up the grid: (Notice: this technique requires a lot of time spent on my knees. Hmm. Love it.)
Then I exerted my will and decided this painting would be created by removing 40% of the squares and spattering primary colors. So I generated a bunch of random digits 1-10, and every time a digit came up 4 or less, I removed a square from the grid. Then I spattered blue paint. Here’s what it looked like at this point:
Below is the grid after spattering a round of all four colors. You can see blues and pink and yellow squares, and also orange and green and purple starting to emerge. Notice in the lower left I’ve begun to inset the squares by half to divide the 4″ grid into 2″ squares. I’ll do another round of four colors with the masks in this position.
Then back to position 1 for another round of all four colors:
Here we are after a few more repetitions of the process. Remember, I have no control over which squares get exposed each round, because the pattern of the masks is dictated by the random numbers. Always a random 4 out of 10.
It’s wild what patterns the numbers come up with. Look at the second and third rows from the bottom in the photo below: almost all the masks remain on the 2nd row and almost all are removed from the 3rd row. Then on the 5th row only one is removed. It’s an interesting art experience to just let the process do its thing, rather than enforcing aesthetic judgments of my own.
The staging nails pounded through the plywood squares keep the masks off the surface so paint doesn’t creep around the edges of the masks. The strict grid is made by a soft fuzz of droplets.
So, how to get more creative? I give up!
