Saturday, January 17, 2009

An Experiment in Letting Go

Tonight we did an experiment in letting go. We both simultaneously created new works from past works. I did it with words while Sarah did it with paint. Here's the end product.

Constant Edit

Pull focus

Focus & Interest

Bring the background into the foreground changing the image.
Imagine one having to gaze past what had been the background.

A necessary lesson, embracing change.
Take the preciousness out of the work.
It’s absolutely essential and not at all at the same time.

It’s about the journey/process not the end product/destination.
Be willing to let it become something else all together.

Building upon what is already there.
Everything is material.
Everything is layers.

Everything is connected.

Everything is nothing.


It’s perfect because it’s not.

Life convulsing, morphing, shaping, evolving becoming a wonderful lesson applied to all.

Art as a compass.

Train yourself to see the layers, to pull your focus and rearrange what’s there to view the multitudes of expression.


Something can always be anything except/accept nothing.

Change the structure without moving the foundation.

See beyond the foreground — landing on the “minute particulars” of the background — interchanging the two 2. If you apply this to your work (of any kind) at least once 1 (dare to take the leap), you’ll never be this again, you’ll never see anything the same again. You will champion curiosity, imagination and heart.

Lessons in the letting go.


At minimum all this is a necessary step in the evolution of artists and scientists alike.

People, humans, being.

An ineffable truth you must witness for yourself. Searching for a missing camera to take a picture of the crash. Be brave enough to abandon tradition.

Clay ovens to distant pyramids.

Pure & unassuming, following a narrow channel beyond which colorful strokes were piling up with multiple density.

We have only to capture them.

The infinite reserves of new combinations and space. Invisible triangles of geometry.

Her’s is a luminous vortex bounded in a nutshell, actual and undiminished. Occasionally visited by Oblivion.

The door opens to no one there. Stuff piled in the middle of the room. Boxes, clothes, suitcases and letters everywhere. Cluttered, ornate and weird, but it makes sense too. Disappearing into the main highway. The blood climbing back into our veins. Getting back together in silence, she gives me colors. All I can give her is words.

A pulsating apparatus, but warmer than that.

Now we introduce Constance and Edi.


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