Sunday, May 13, 2007






These are my new collage pieces. I'm using painted strips of canvas cut to the desired lengths. This allows the freedom to re-arrange, not too different from Matisse's process of perfecting a composition.

1 comment:

Stories said...

William,

The finished works displayed have a quiet beauty and are difficult to comprehend because each one and all of them together, challenge everything I think I know about fluorescents. With a cursory glance I assume the bright colors are like a loud party. But after a moment I can't help but be enveloped by the surrounding paintings. A calm feeling takes over. I am refreshed. I could stay there, in your small studio, for a long time.

On your table is a small sketch, a movable collage of the same size as were your static sketches. Each sketch is a painting in its own right, exhibiting the freedom of experimentation and quick execution.
I can understand that sketching out ideas with cut canvas is much faster than painting each iteration of a composition. Yet I feel a twinge of sadness or nostalgia knowing that the collage will soon be its pieces becoming the next composition or that a line or two will be exchanged for an other in the process of refining the composition. Your mind moves quickly but us poor viewers move more slowly and the transience of movable collage is difficult to accept. Nonetheless I do relate to your urgency; the desire to execute the compositions as quickly as you compose them because one suspects that though life is long, great work takes even longer.

The beauty of the finished works far out weighs that of the sketches, this is obvious. I imagine that the sketches are like pictures of the paintings as children. People are curious, when they meet someone they love or admire, to know at least what that someone looked like long before the idea of themselves solidified and became whole.

William,

The finished works displayed have a quiet beauty and are difficult to comprehend because each one and all of them together, challenge everything I think I know about fluorescents. With a cursory glance I assume the bright colors are like a loud party. But after a moment I can't help but be enveloped by the surrounding paintings. A calm feeling takes over and I am refreshed. I could stay there, in your small studio that this moment transformed into some other place, for a long time.

On your table is a small sketch, a movable collage of the same size as were your static sketches. Each sketch is a painting in its own right, exhibiting the freedom of experimentation and quick execution.
I can understand that sketching out ideas with cut canvas is much faster than painting each iteration of a composition. Yet I feel a twinge of sadness or of nostalgia knowing that the collage will soon be its pieces becoming the next composition or that a line or two will be exchanged for an other in the process of refining the composition. Your mind moves quickly but us poor viewers move more slowly and the transience of movable collage is difficult to accept. Nonetheless I do relate to your urgency; the desire to execute the compositions as quickly as you compose them because one suspects that though life is long, great work takes longer.

The beauty of the finished works far out weighs that of the sketches, this is obvious. I imagine that the sketches are like pictures of the paintings as children. People are curious, when they meet with significance, to know at least what it looked like long before the idea solidified and became whole.