The Fully Complex Scope of Being

The Fully Complex Scope of Being

"The Fully Complex Scope of Being" oil on art board, 16 x 20.  Available here and at Artfinder.


"It’s my nature to question, to look at the opposite side. I believe that the best writing also does this … It tells us that where there is sorrow, there will be joy; where there is joy, there will be sorrow … The acknowledgement of the fully complex scope of being is why good art thrills … Acknowledging the fullness of things,” she insists, “is our human task.” - JANE HIRSHFIELD

My wanders are taking me back to portraiture for a moment.

I've been fascinated with the many contemporary painters who use paint like a sculpting tool in carving faces into canvas.  Leaving rough, thick paint and harsh lines while still conveying the emotion and essence of a human.  

In both abstraction and portraiture, I wonder how much I can convey without spelling it out?  How little can I define while still helping your eyes see it fully?

The words of Hirschfield (some of her other words are literally tattooed on my body)  had me nodding and mmmmhhhhmmmmm-ing.  The more art I look at, the more images passing through my own visual, emotional and intellectual filters, the more I see the good stuff acknowledges the fully complex scope of being.  Our humanity, our very being, is complicated and messy and fraught with stumbles, trips and falls.  The pendulum of joy and sorrow.  The scales of fullness and emptiness.  Beauty and ugliness.  Despair and wonder.

Thank you, dear reader, for being part of the fullness of things.  Your very presence swings the pendulum toward joy. XO

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​About the art:  beginning with an old painting covered in white gesso, a notanized photograph and the images of heavily sculpted paintings in my mind, thickly sketching the darks of a face in colored pencil and then adding thin layers of oil paint mixed with liquin.  Using only palette knife, rubber wedge and fingers, adding thicker layers and stepping WAY back between them.  Does this look like a face from 10 feet away?  Yup.  Ok, keep going. Resisting the urge to overly define.  Resisting the urge to add colors other than my pre-selected limited palette.  Letting the highlights speak.  Letting the darks anchor.  Walking away with a smile.