There is a point that is reached in the making of a painting that I can only compare to the feeling you get when, after playing Galaga for several hours you realize that you no longer pay any attention to your ship along the bottom of the screen. You no longer glance down to see where it is, as you know from the feeling of your hands and the shots flying up the screen.
In painting it is like you no longer pay attention to the overall composition, or even bother to hang it on the wall to try to see the next marks. You just mix paint and pour it, or remove it using your periphery vision and the more than likely incorrect remembrances of the night-before's work to guide you....but you trust what lies beyond the man being revealed behind the curtain.
4 comments:
ah, i'd hate to know how many quarters i put in that game, which i first played in the arcades in 1983. nowadays, you can run an emulator on yr computer and play it for free. [schid]
I have the emulator, but no joystick....so my playing of it is limited.
No joke: as a kid I had a full-size arcade game, called Cosmic 2000 in my basement. It was a Galaga rip-off that my dad had got in trade for some plating he'd done for an arcade game company. We had a pinball machine too....the hours I spent are best left uncounted.
When I first come into the studio to work, there is this noisy crowd which follows me there; it includes all of the important painters in history, all of my contemporaries, all the art critics, etc. As I become involved in the work, one by one, they all leave. If I'm lucky, evey one of them will disappear. If i'm really lucky, I will too.
it's from an interview with philip guston, reminded me of you
wow, I like that quote...
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