Paintings on Cardboard

 

Paintings on Cardboard. But paintings are supposed to go on the wall, no? And be made on canvas, or wooden panels? When I moved to the new studio, in 1995, Mauricio put together  three beautiful hand-stretched  linen canvasses, rabbit skin glue, oil primed, the works… They’re there on a low shelf, leaning against my painting wall—still waiting to be used. I haven’t yet—but every time i catch sight of them, there’s a pleasure in the possibility. No, it’s cardboard for me—a long story, going back to the time when my dear brother Peter was in his last months—and I found myself outside, in a beautiful Leucadia garden, making paintings on the most ephemeral of materials—pieces of carton from the boxes in Shelley’s garage. The setting was beautiful, despite the nature of the time—and the paintings were a way in—and a way through. They always have been. What more can we ask?

Can this be shared? One hopes that it’s there in the work—la simpatía humana (Roberto Arlt’s phrase)—that something will reach across…

I seem to have continued in this vein, even after the “lost years” (this came to me only recently, talking with Robin, who’s helping me greatly with the grand sorting out.) The lost years—all the loses, inevitable of course—but also all the continuities, and the hopes. My Wurster classes (Songs and Places, the Visual Studies Seminar) have been a big part of this—all of you—you've kept me going…

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A towhee just appeared, on the arm of the wooden chair outside—first time in many many days…

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