Fear of Painting Without Form

I can say it simply. My art is a structuring of my feelings. But what does that mean?

Let me relate a series of propositions about painting:

  1. I can turn my feelings into colors and patterns by painting a surface. When I experience the colored surface, if it gives me feelings that are important to me I am satisfied, if not, I continue painting until I am satisfied. If I am not able to satisfy myself, I get rid of the painting and start again.
  2. But what are the colors and patterns that give feelings that are important to me? I can scribble and splash, or make straight lines and smooth colors. I can paint abstractions, or illusions of scenes and objects. There are no rules. I can do whatever I feel if the result is important to me.
  3. There is a desire to make forms and arrangements that I know through training and experience will work. And yet there is a desire to break through these forms because they are confining, and there are infinities of feeling that they are unable to express. And if I break these old forms and am still successful, my feelings soar. I am exalted, and realize I am no longer bound by old conventions. I have found new form.
  4. It is also possible to find a place inside where inspiration makes painting automatic. Here I don’t think about form. I just milk those inner sensations that turn me on and dictate the process of my painting.
  5. I choose to paint on a rectangle. My painting fills the rectangle.
  6. My feelings are the source of the painting. But a feeling is formless until it has parts. How the parts work together and how they shape the rectangle is the form of the painting. In the process of painting we lose track of whether the feelings make the parts or the parts make the feelings. If the feelings generated become muddled so do the parts. If the parts become muddled so do the feelings. In either case the painting is without form.