About “Night Garden”
“A painting is not a picture of an experience; it is an experience” is a quote I lifted from Mark Rothko after my latest presentation of his work.
I think that statement describes a direct way to think about painting, one that feels more accurate to me as I continue my art practice.
Creating (or recreating) images with a liquid, creamy material to depict a scene, or to highlight color and form.
The painting is not the actual thing you’re referencing, but simply a handmade, physical thought of it. A thought that holds the memory of eye to mind to arm to wrist to finger to brush to canvas. But the painting is also not a thought, because thoughts aren’t physical things. No, a painting isn’t a thought nor is it a picture; a painting is the experience of the material on a surface.
We love to see paintings try to be something else, like photography or literature or poems or…people. But truly, it is just the colors or textures on a chosen surface. Sometimes, we are tricked and we like to fall into the magic of the thing. Sometimes the artist likes to let us see the material for exactly what it is.
Well, I recently went to the Amom Carter Museum in Fort Worth, Tx. Sedrick Huckaby suggested I see the current exhibition; he thought I might gain inspiration since I showed interest in installation, and he’s smart so I definitely wanted to follow his advice. Natasha Bowdoin’s solo show, In the Night Garden, is a series of painted board that’s larger than life and intricate watercolors that are collaged within theirselves.
When I walked into the space and I saw those painted boards; I felt surrounded by electric color, intimidated by the size and the type of controlled chaos. I decided to turn and focus my attention on the watercolor works. And they were…nice. The colors were vivid, the thing was cut and puzzled pieced back together and the black, inky, intricate marks gave my eyes something to trace.
Close up of “For Maurice, Ranunculus”
“For Maurice, Ranunculus,” was my favorite, it was red and green and I saw light pink parts.
“For Maurice, Ranunculus”
Looking back at pictures, I realized that I never looked at it as a whole, but instead all the other parts that made it up. I physically zoomed in while in front of it and never felt the need to see it altogether. Ok, well, maybe I did feel the need. But honestly? I got distracted when I stepped back because of the black shadow silhouettes that were pressed into the wall, behind the intricate redgreenlightpinkblackinky marks.
My eyes and mind and brain said, “omfg bro, WTF.”
So then I turned back to the intimidating electricity from before. After getting overwhelmed by one wall, I decided to turn and get overwhelmed by the other.
The colors were loud and layered immediately on top of the other. Outlined in black, the shapes were made flat and graphic.
The black transformed into silhouette shapes as it started to flood onto the floor.
Inspiration from leaves and flowers, the shapes and the details are understood, but the colors pull away from anything truly naturalistic.The physical layering of collage pushes the graphic shapes into dimension. There are shadows implied on the ground but real life ones are also present with the board shapes interacting with the space around it.
The large scale forces you to immerse into the work, while taking a picture of the thing, walking around it and creating an experience with it.
Shout out to Mark Rothko fr.