9″ x 12″ Watercolor, ink. Searching for something in these last two… still looking
View more work at Saatchi Art, and on my web portfolio: ART BY WILLARD For photos on this blog, click MY ART on the right panel and scroll down.
24″ x 30″ Acrylic on canvas.
I’m finding that my fascination with patterns in broken pavement, walls of razed buildings, stucco and peeling paint, radiographs, high altitude photos of the earth, cartography, tree bark– has been converging in my recent paintings into a new direction. As though I’d been led–from the time I began assembling discarded fragments and trash on a table in the Ox–to my most recent paintings (say, from #958 and 959)–to the making of images, not raw abstractions, but drawn from life, one step beyond the horizon of understanding, of where we able to name what it is we are seeing. This is why I’ve been labeling them, ‘conceptual,’ because they are about something… just that we can’t name what it is.
Many of my earlier pieces have a place in this line. Ones that don’t, and are less than satisfying to me, I’ve been painting over. The painting below is a paint-over of #612–a paining that was almost there… but not enough
View more work at Saatchi Art, and on my web portfolio: ART BY WILLARD For photos on this blog, click MY ART on the right panel and scroll down
We see the past through the lens of the present. Points that brought us to where we find ourselves become markers of a path we construct, but in in reality is not at all straight. More like finding seeds that begin to grow out of debris we thought we’d abandoned. Here is a piece from March, 2013 (#139) that was lost when we fled the Ox. Here was the anti-portrait (what we see is not what we are). There was a dirty, crusted window screen like a veil over the face. The trash assemblages I was making beginning to emerge as paintings. I recognize in this piece a link to to what I’ve found opening as my way into the future.
#461 “Aterwords” 25″ x 32″ Acrylic on canvas. February, 2016
I’ve put letters and numbers in my paintings since I started painting. Sometimes prominent, sometimes almost hidden. I tend to think about these things after I do them. I had no ‘reason’ or explanation for them, but it occurs to me now that they are–more than symbolically, because they ARE symbols– emblems of what we use in our attempts to understand our universe beyond appearance: language and mathematics–fragments of our woefully incomplete understanding of ourselves, of the universe we have come to inhabit–ever so briefly.
A portrait is a powerful untruth
We are not what we look like