Once upon a time, in a land far, far away; I took Geometry. Like most of the other ninth graders in my class, I found it to be a refreshing diversion from arithmetic and equations (otherwise known as Math), and in getting to know and draw shapes, I was introduced to the spiral, properly. We had these nifty graphing calculators, black and brown screens and spirals would animate right out of the axes once the correct equation was entered - though by this time, bringing equations back to the shapes was a brilliant way to rekindle my fading interest in math. And then, there was the geometric theorem (I cant find a reference) that stated that all spirals are similar, as depending on the dimensions on the axes on which they are mapped, they can be made to look exactly like one another, even if arising from very different equations. So if the shape is a spiral, no matter how it looks, its just like every other spiral. cool.
It wasnt long after this that I began to draw spirals. I could manage to draw a straight line, but drawing a spiral became effortless. The trick I found was that a constant pressure to the writing implement had to be applied in addition to drawing a circle. Start small, in the middle, and eventually your spiral would be perfect, and the pencil off the page. Then try going the other way. Then make them tight. Then make them loose. While constructions with compass and ruler had all been enlightening ways to define space, the spiral captured my curiosity in its lack of definition of anything other than itself. Also, the features of each rendering were each unique and presented limitless opportunity to practice drawing lines without boredom. My in-class doodles became arrangements of spirals.
Spirals followed pixels to my canvases. These were initiated as doodles, and it took some practice to move into painting mode after this, since the doodles were delineations of spirals, and paintings are full-color renderings. Needing to pour the additional brain power into completing these images was (and still is) an experience of growth, which has helped me think about what the spirals bring to the picture and how to put them to best use. Since this point, spirals have decorated greater shapes, been the main source point for my abstract compositions, and even provided baseline organization for pieces that were built off of a spiral with no remaining evidence of it.
Just a little while ago, I rewrote my Artist Statement. I was seeking common ground in all the work that I do, including Twitterscap.es, oil paintings, and latex house paint paintings. While it seemed to take forever to compose, the idea I set out to explain arrived without a lot of frustration, and it also made sense with the other hobbies and interests that I have - like mysteries, divination, and other explorations of things pragmatic people tend to write off as implausible or nonsense. Its a fascination with Infinity, and reaching out beyond myself to discover what else is out there. Spirals are an obvious reference to the idea of infinity: they come out of somewhere, they go somewhere else, and in our awareness we witness just a small portion of the path expressed by the shape. Spirals are mathematically infinite, though are found in finite expressions throughout nature, like snail shells and whirlpools. Its like nature borrows the idea of infinity, or shapes with no plans to stop growing get stuck there, or its just a way to expression without having to rewrite the rule of ultimate expression.
Whichever way, thats what I paint.
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away; I took Geometry. Like most of the other ninth graders in my class, I found it to be a refreshing diversion from arithmetic and equations (otherwise known as Math), and in getting to know and draw shapes, I was introduced to the spiral, properly. We had these nifty graphing calculators, black and brown screens and spirals would animate right out of the axes once the correct equation was entered - though by this time, bringing equations back to the shapes was a brilliant way to rekindle my fading interest in math. And then, there was the geometric theorem (I cant find a reference) that stated that all spirals are similar, as depending on the dimensions on the axes on which they are mapped, they can be made to look exactly like one another, even if arising from very different equations. So if the shape is a spiral, no matter how it looks, its just like every other spiral. cool.
It wasnt long after this that I began to draw spirals. I could manage to draw a straight line, but drawing a spiral became effortless. The trick I found was that a constant pressure to the writing implement had to be applied in addition to drawing a circle. Start small, in the middle, and eventually your spiral would be perfect, and the pencil off the page. Then try going the other way. Then make them tight. Then make them loose. While constructions with compass and ruler had all been enlightening ways to define space, the spiral captured my curiosity in its lack of definition of anything other than itself. Also, the features of each rendering were each unique and presented limitless opportunity to practice drawing lines without boredom. My in-class doodles became arrangements of spirals.
Spirals followed pixels to my canvases. These were initiated as doodles, and it took some practice to move into painting mode after this, since the doodles were delineations of spirals, and paintings are full-color renderings. Needing to pour the additional brain power into completing these images was (and still is) an experience of growth, which has helped me think about what the spirals bring to the picture and how to put them to best use. Since this point, spirals have decorated greater shapes, been the main source point for my abstract compositions, and even provided baseline organization for pieces that were built off of a spiral with no remaining evidence of it.
Just a little while ago, I rewrote my Artist Statement. I was seeking common ground in all the work that I do, including Twitterscap.es, oil paintings, and latex house paint paintings. While it seemed to take forever to compose, the idea I set out to explain arrived without a lot of frustration, and it also made sense with the other hobbies and interests that I have - like mysteries, divination, and other explorations of things pragmatic people tend to write off as implausible or nonsense. Its a fascination with Infinity, and reaching out beyond myself to discover what else is out there. Spirals are an obvious reference to the idea of infinity: they come out of somewhere, they go somewhere else, and in our awareness we witness just a small portion of the path expressed by the shape. Spirals are mathematically infinite, though are found in finite expressions throughout nature, like snail shells and whirlpools. Its like nature borrows the idea of infinity, or shapes with no plans to stop growing get stuck there, or its just a way to expression without having to rewrite the rule of ultimate expression.
Whichever way, thats what I paint.