How to Assemble the Kite is the other one. Eleven drawn, cubed, and liberally applied to one seventy-nine.
I like the process of melding these identities. The mixing of fragments to an ordered fashion. Steps faithfully followed and applied to canvas. Its structure, a guiding principle, woven into the fabric of transformation.
It started with the temporary sculptures. Mostly small assembled groups of things, digitally documented, the pieces dispersed. Now the parts stay together. Stories collected, intermingled and named. Machine painting the end of time and the hole to fall into.
Improbable alliances. A twig with thorns and quail egg in a bottle cap. A thicket captured in digital amber. A scrap of rough sawn wood. A cube and fragment of twisted wire. A cup “borrowed” from Donna’s recent efforts, filled by a game’s protagonist and a chain to bind. Well . . . the egg broke and so did the twig . . . and the wire, and what started as a playful exercise morphed into a full on project. I think of them as story telling, collaborations of histories, precursors to the paintings. Dimensional sketches to enlighten the illusions of paint.
An experiment. Adjustments three through eleven. Images of two paintings disassembled, co-mingled, reconstructed, photographed, and drawn on. Ink Jet print on copy paper, graphite and color pencil.
The Acacia tree has gone crazy. It’s an African Fever Acacia that produces round fuzzy yellow flowers . . . acres and acres of them. A carpet of them. Keeping on top of this onslaught takes tools. For yard work it’s the rake. I prefer metal tined, long wood handles, and having several rakes of different widths, help make my raking more productive. The tree, besides being a prodigious flower producing monster that’s covered with needle sharp thorns, the tree’s expansive mottled shade and lovely green ever exfoliating bark marks it a gem of a tree and the time spent tending it . . . well spent. Illustrated are the protagonists. The tree, the flowers, and one of the three rakes.