15 April 2025
There's an interview BOMB Magazine did with Sedrick Chisom in May of 2024 where he talks about how, for him, “there has to be a site of disaster in the work” when making a painting that steers it away from the directionless world of endless hypothetical outcomes. That has been in my head a lot this week as I've worked through a couple new ideas. The first came from seeing a solar flare on a walk to the studio—I painted a version of what it lingered as in my memory and it ended up solidifying a bit in paint, its rainbow rings taking on a kind of chainlink feeling. But it was completely lifeless on the canvas, floating there with no apparent context or reason to exist, so I took it off the wall to put aside. But as I did, I noticed that it felt a little like a figure lying supine when it was oriented horizontally instead of vertically. That presented a new path to follow, a new challenge to confront, a more interesting mix of instincts to unpack. It's a bit of a contradiction to try to remain open to wherever the painting wants to go while seeking concrete problems to solve, especially because you can't manufacture those problems intentionally. Or, you can, but then something disingenuous will lodge itself in the paint and you're stuck with it shooting finger guns at you.
Anyway, that painting has enjoyed a fruitfully frustrating journey so far. But I've had another one going at the same time of a blanket in grass (based on visiting Hampstead Heath with Yena last week) that has not yet revealed a good disaster. The whole thing has appeared in graceful hog brushstrokes over well-planned early layers and has settled neatly into the confines of the canvas, which is to say it has no guts. I have given it a couple days to sit though, so we'll see how it feels when I go back in tomorrow, and I do have this one idea that keeps popping up to maybe introduce some mini memories floating over the blanket shape. I'm slightly wary of constructing that as a problem to solve as I just mentioned, but I think it's a vague enough concept that it will take on a shape I can't predict, so I'm optimistic.
If you're reading this, listen to Walt McClements's new album On a Painted Ocean.