So, somewhere in the process of putting together a bigger work, there was time for Ivan and I to futz around with materials and methods and media. Ivan tends to prefer cutting into things, or cutting out things; I like taking pen and graphite and grinding them into the paper until the majority of the detail is punished into submission. This is my understanding of artistic darkness--you don't achieve it with the pitch of the pigment or the thickness of the application, but rather through the onerous application of work.
The only problem here is that in trying to draw things that were familiar and most forefront in our discussions--the lakes, the meaning and mandate of the TH&B collective, the ever-present darkness of magpies and crows--one starts getting the feeling of being choked. These icons and images feel stifling to complete, regardless how we fill their guts with seeds or expose their honeycombed bellies or let their black edges curl in the sun. These exercises just intensify the need to crack open the shell to let some fresh light in.
This work isn't unproductive; it's like yelling very loudly in a room in order to alter the timbre of one's voice. At least that's what I tell myself.
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