these were my aims at the beginning of this, in mid july:

to make paintings that can be held, taken off the wall, tossed in the air. to draw your eye with the paintings, please your hands as you take them from the wall, surprise you with the writing underneath, and engage your intellect as you look again at the painting, in order to reconcile what you've seen with what you've read.

to marry my intellect to my instinct. to emerge out of pure painting as movement, as fleeting expression, and to find out what my mind has to offer if given the room and the respect.

to make as many good paintings of a particular size and shape as i could within five weeks.

i met all of them.

yet i woke up this morning knowing i wouldn't sell any of the paintings. i knew i didn't care, though. it was good to have the gallery all full all night long, but it seemed that those who were there during the quieter moments had more of a connection to my pieces. they require interaction, and perhaps the closer you are to one-on-one with them, the more you can take your time and be quiet and speak with them.


here is what i learned tonight:

if i aim to make paintings that you can hold, move with, run your hands around, then i have to make objects. a well made object is one whose every facet has been considered. tonight i watched people handling my paintings as objects, and i knew immediately that they were not good enough. i had left so many surfaces unfinished, unconsidered on these pieces.

i will never do so again.