16x20" oil on canvas, 2013
This was a spontaneous interruption type of thing I tend to label "autosurrea" which harks back to the original surrealist attitude of allowing "subconscious" impulses and whatnot to direct the work, rather than regular conscious intellectual processes.
The creative impetus clearly originates unconsciously, and although it will have its way, to some extent, no matter how hard you try to control it, the surrealist idea seems to have been sort of like mine: unrestrained, natural creativity is more intelligent than the intellect can ever pretend to be. And I believe that's what led, eventually to abstract expressionism and action painting.
So, when I am able, I like to give the impulse - it comes from deeper; it can be felt - so I give it the lead and intellect becomes the helper, a tool, so to speak. It knows how to mix whatever color you're having the impulse for, for example.
Anyway one day I had a really good, deep - unexpectedly deep - meditation. I actually experienced - somehow, a sensation I don't know exactly how to classify - the entire world inside of me. That's what it felt like. I don't know how the mind can conjure up such a seemingly complex sensation in such a simple, direct experience, but there it was. I don't know. Ask Eckhart Tolle. He was leading the meditation, via live online feed.
I felt indescribably good afterward, had a bite to eat, and went into the studio, where I was working on a piece I had designed in my mind. I had every aspect of it plotted out and thought it would comprise a very modern looking statement, but when it was finished it looked more like a (not very) glorified doodle. I hated it and decided to wipe it off, forget about it. But as is often the case with autosurrea, I had an impulse: What if I did this, put some more of this color here; what would that be like. Then the floodgates opened. Next thing I knew I was painting furiously - with giddy delight, more like - with both hands, a brush in each, going at it. I couldn't "think" what I was doing. It just happened.
The result completely destroyed my original idea and produced a better painting, in my opinion, than anything I've ever consciously conjured up.
I put it here now because this type of thing may be what's coming next. I can't seem to find it in my heart to pursue representational painting ideas these days, even when I think they're really good ones. But the urge to touch a wet brush to the canvas is bugging me more and more, rising up, as it were.
So I am preparing some canvases...
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