Painting...

What is there to say about painting that has not already been said, all I can offer is my personal experience. Sometimes it goes well, other times it is rough and then there those rare times when you have lost track of everything, so much so that there is no memory, then something jolts you back to reality and one, two maybe three hours has passed. No mater what state you are in, good, bad or in a trance the only thing that matters is the work and if is good. When everything is going well it is easier to fall into old habits and then fall into that ever so fun rough patch. It is there that the painting first begins to form, before that it was just an abstract idea. Now you are confronted with all of your decisions and you must decide to stop, to continue with your plan, alter it, to step back and wait or just scrape everything off and mix batch black? This choice defines each and every painting and changes form painting to painting. Knowing what to do is an art itself, and only becomes slightly easier after having made hundreds of paintings.

Paint can be manipulated to look like anything and at the same time why would you want to when paint is so luscious on its own. The first thing you see when looking at a painting is the paint itself, why would you want to detract from that? Now when I walk through museums I see great works and I am in awe and then I remember the paint that I am seeing is a record of the artist decisions. How far to push this or that, scrape off what was bad and begin again, touch this up, get that reflection just so, capture the essence of the moment with the perfect blue, not so dark that it is black but just sits off on the line and remains blue.

Beauty?

In one of my painting classes I was once given the assignment, make a good painting and a bad painting, when we all came to the next class our definition of painting was changed forever. Some of us tried to make a bad painting by breaking every rule, the subject was in the center, using contrasting colors, etc. and some of us chose to depict something bad, a gas mask and fire. Those who made "ugly" paintings made quite good painting for all the reasons that they should have been bad. It was then that I realized painting, art for that matter rarely is bad or "ugly."

"1st Wire Bridge," 1971
Florist wire, nails, 37 1/2 x 38 1/2 overall
The Rachofsky Collection, Dallas 
The works of Richard Tuttle can be seen by some as bad or "ugly," yes they can be difficult to understand at first glance but then you realize the subtly in them and they are no longer what you first encountered.  Some are as simple as a pencil line drawn on the shadow of a wire or a length of rope nailed to the wall. 

"3rd Rope Piece," 1974
Cotton and nails, 1/2 x 3 x 1/2 inches
Collection Dorothy and Herbert Vogel, New York

Beauty can be found in most anything, therefore art cannot be ugly but it is also not always beautiful.

Walking In Florence

I have never walked so much in my life before arriving in Florence. Coming from a society that only walks to their cars and that is to far, this was quite a shock. Walking is a means of transportation and is treated as thus, when you have to be somewhere you walk there, when you are just about the city you stroll, look in windows take in the sights and when your hands a full of groceries you maybe surprised at how quick you can get home. After having been in the city nearly a month now I fully understand what it means to walk and what it means to walk in Florence. Never before did I walk down a street and be keenly aware of each sound, is that a bike, a bus, a car or just someone in a hurry. Each day we all participate in this dance, going to school you may become engulfed in a tour group, you were just on your way to class but now you are determined to escape this sea of people. So much so that if you were walking with others you all stop talking and begin slip in and out of the group without hesitation, only to reassemble and continue on your way.

There is a freedom that comes with the ability to drive and it is something those of who drive know but I have learned over this last month is there is also a freedom in going for a walk. Maybe its because I don't enjoy driving like most that have become so fond of my walks but they simply make me happy. I know no where else where I can get lost then find my way to a monument or piazza get lost again and again find a monument or piazza and make it home. These walks take me to new places, some familiar ones and from time to time I see familiar faces too. Each walk is different but when I am just out for a walk I still find it difficult to believe I am here. It was only a month ago that I was walking to my car and now I routinely walk to Piazza della Signoria.