I am interested in exploring the interplay of various colors and shapes on a flat surface. I usually experiment with acrylics. Using brushes, a pallet knife, and sometimes other means. I intuitively arrange colors in more or less irregular shapes on a canvas or paper and observe the resulting visual interactions.
When I paint, I do not have a product in mind, even less so am I attempting to visually evoke in two dimensions the illusion of a three-dimensional world or to convey a (political) message. I follow my intuition, immerse myself into the process, and let colors freely coalesce into shapes, avoiding conscious interference, as much as possible. This is the first, the right brain phase of the process.
In a second phase the left brain sets in. I take a step back and try to find out which colors and shapes hinder the painting to build up enough tension to make the eye want to wander across the surface, ask questions and wonder. I also want to identify areas that may result in the piece losing some minimal inner coherence thereby letting it visually fall apart. This can take time, I may have to put the piece away and have a fresh look at it after a few days, weeks or sometimes months.
Once the not yet satisfying areas on the canvas/paper are identified, I restart the two-phase process on those parts again and work the piece over. The cycle repeats itself until I am satisfied. I try to imagine how a potential change would work out before executing it, but, despite this, the result takes me not infrequently by surprise.
Knowing when to stop can be a challenge: stopping too early and the piece remains unsatisfying and unfinished; reworking it one time too much and it is destroyed. The good thing is that one can always overpaint the entire piece and start again from scratch and, since I am interested in the process, that does not bother me too much.
I hope that the end-product makes the viewer curious, stimulates them to freely associate, spin their own thoughts and, by doing so, enter into a visual dialogue.
When I paint, I do not have a product in mind, even less so am I attempting to visually evoke in two dimensions the illusion of a three-dimensional world or to convey a (political) message. I follow my intuition, immerse myself into the process, and let colors freely coalesce into shapes, avoiding conscious interference, as much as possible. This is the first, the right brain phase of the process.
In a second phase the left brain sets in. I take a step back and try to find out which colors and shapes hinder the painting to build up enough tension to make the eye want to wander across the surface, ask questions and wonder. I also want to identify areas that may result in the piece losing some minimal inner coherence thereby letting it visually fall apart. This can take time, I may have to put the piece away and have a fresh look at it after a few days, weeks or sometimes months.
Once the not yet satisfying areas on the canvas/paper are identified, I restart the two-phase process on those parts again and work the piece over. The cycle repeats itself until I am satisfied. I try to imagine how a potential change would work out before executing it, but, despite this, the result takes me not infrequently by surprise.
Knowing when to stop can be a challenge: stopping too early and the piece remains unsatisfying and unfinished; reworking it one time too much and it is destroyed. The good thing is that one can always overpaint the entire piece and start again from scratch and, since I am interested in the process, that does not bother me too much.
I hope that the end-product makes the viewer curious, stimulates them to freely associate, spin their own thoughts and, by doing so, enter into a visual dialogue.