I’ve been doing a lot of abstract work lately as I find the process of letting my thoughts and feelings randomly unfold on the paper really liberating. I’m always amazed at where the marks come from and how they end up making sense.
I say ‘end up’ because there’s always that dodgy bit in the middle that scares the pants off me. I find myself thinking that all that work, all that time and all that money on materials is sadly heading straight for the bin. Somehow though, it doesn’t (not always anyway). Somehow, something happens and I push through that stage to reach an end point. That in itself is something of a mystery. How do I know I’ve ‘got there’ if I didn’t know where I was going? How do I know it’s finished if I didn’t know what my intention was in the first place? But there it is, right in front of me and I know I don’t want to do anything else to it. Strangely, I do know it’s finished. I know I’m satisfied with what I’ve done and to my critic’s surprise I even know when it’s the wrong way up!
When I finally get round to mounting it and it turns from a fragment of my imagination into a product, I’m suddenly justified. Contrary to popular belief, I do have a proper job! I am capable and I’m not just an ‘arty, farty type’. Hoorah!
Here’s an example of one finished piece that magically came together and vindicated my existence.