Putting A Pretty Mat And Frame On The World
Four pictures are at the framer, getting custom mats.
Let me tell you what mats are like in art. They are like speaking English in France.
Say you want some bread. So you go to the boulangerie And you remember bits from high school or maybe even university French. But you struggle. You remember bon jour and your une baguette s'il vous plaît, but not much else. You’re nowhere near fluency.
It all makes you so uncomfortable.
Your mind is like a picture without a mat.
But then, the French clerk sees you are a silly American struggling with the language so in perfect English she takes up the conversation, and you feel comfortable again. It is like the clerk has put a mat around the conversation.
Mats are part of the lexicon of a very comfortable visual language. That lexicon includes frames and even subject matter. Like cows. Pretty landscapes. And cows in pretty landscapes.
That is why sometimes—many times—most times—I don’t use mats. So you can see the ragged edges. The scaffolding of the piece. My art isn’t there to make you comfortable.
But these pictures I’m making now? I want these pictures to hypnotize you.
You’re getting sleepy. Sleepy.
Like the country is doing with the Trump regime. (Notice I did not say, administration? I said regime.)
So I’m putting mats around the pictures.
Notice how small the figures are. So small. Right now in the art world everything must be big and bold and monumental.
But I don’t feel big or bold or monumental. Not in the art world. Not in the world. I feel like those figures.
Even when the figures are small, you can’t take your eyes off of them, can you? But there is something wrong. Even when they’re together, they’re apart. They almost seem more comfortable when they are alone, don’t they?
My world.
First thoughts: I feel like the boy in the marsh. He is drawn to the marsh and in the marsh, but as absorbed as he is by the marsh, he will never really be a part of the marsh. He can explore, poke, turn over rocks, inspect insects and roots, and feel connected to the marsh, but he is really sticking out and imposing on the marsh. Huh. Sometimes I am surprised to hear what I think.
But the first image sucked me in. Is it sand or snow? Is it winter? I see a horizon, but then a vague second horizon? Clouds or mountains? I ask questions I don't want answers to. I like it vague so my eyes can just linger. I like this one a lot.
I started reading this and at first I didn't realize this was you. Then I saw the pictures and thought "that looks like John's work"...duh...it is John.
I liked this one a lot!