There's a funny thing. So now both of the granite statues have turned out to be made of cardboard. Say goodbye to Stalins panopticon
I had a really interesting conversation with my friend Alan about this.
We were thinking about the importance of lines, and linear structure in pictures. We both value the kind of sharpness that comes from a well placed drawn mark that counterbalances the smeared, flowing field made by a brush. Most of what we see is lit by smeared fields of light and dark. Shadows and highlights have no edges, really. Our bodies are thinly contained liquid marks, bags of water that slosh and sag as much as they stride and pose. That means brushes are the best kit for recording it all, however much I find them irritatingly fluffy sometimes. But I value incisive looking and drawing so much in others - Giacometti, Moore (Bobby and Henry) Goya, Whistlers London etchings. In the middle of these fluid fields of tone there has to be bones. That's what makes Goya's aquatints such a revelation. There has to be lines. I need those tiny fragile marks to record the fact that I was here and I was looking. Soft and hard, intrusive and receptive. All very I Ching.
That's enough writing. I'm going back to the playpen.