Two paintings of icecream...
I guess if I was on a desert island I would draw in the sand. There is joy looking at lines, shadows, depth. And if the waves came and washed it away- I'd still do it... Would I decorate my hut, if no one but myself saw it? Yes...in a desire to juxtapose items in harmony, perhaps to add spots of color, and some order to natural chaos. In conclusion, I guess a painting can be born and survive for the mere audience of the maker. I can be thoroughly entertained on my own in my studio. It is amazing to me to see the effect of lines- the residue of a gesture. My friend Amy is working on a series of giant paintings capturing the movement of a Tai Chi excersize. She quests for a record of a moment. A record of existence. Is it a futile thing? Which is it: the pleasure of the mark making or the recording of one's existence? On the desert island am I decorating for my own eye or leaving a sign of my presence?
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