Matthew Picton invited me over for some drinks and a studio visit this weekend.
Before we even got into the studio, I noticed this new piece on the dining room wall.
It turns out that this is, in fact, a very old piece that Matthew only recently hung. It really caught my eye. Apperently, in his early attempts to map our reality, Matthew used double stick tape methodically applied over a "found" surface rubbed with charcoal. In this case it was a bit of sidewalk near my home. He called it "a charcoal drawing of the eminent shattering of the solid surface."
I found myself thinking of my new drawings.
Matthew was surprised that I had never seen this piece. It had been some time since I'd been to his house. It became clear that I had not seen his newest purchase. It is a Hiroshi Sugimoto reproduction. We filled our glasses and ambled across the house in order to bask.
Matthew begins: "There it is, look. Embossed in there is
Pacific Ocean, Oregon Coast, 1985. It sort of archives this . . .
this. . .
what's so great about this is, I swear to god, it has this very weird sort of atmosphere to it. One that’s incredibly sort of like. . .” he sighs and seems to gather himself, “. . . well its very internal obviously. To me its very annihilating too existence because its just so completely endless, and such an infinity and so, and so. . . and even beyond time in some ways. . . its just great. And then it’s categorized by a time and a moment which is, which is, which is
irrelevant."
There was a natural pause. Oddly, the whole time I had been staring at the embossed title in the paper. It was so subtle and tombstone-like. Listening to his words I was making this connection between our fleeting lives as a frozen moment and a single frame in the 16+ per second it takes to make a fluid Movie.
Awkwardly, all I can say at the time is, “It’s stamped."
Matthew rolled with my blurting. "Imagine though, if you had the full thing hey, at the end of your bed, and it would be like, it would be this wide” he stretches his arms out (The big platinum prints are 50 inches),
“Oh god!" he says as he begins to swoon, "and you’d wake up each morning and just like
fall into it. It would be just amazing."
We eventually made it to his studio.
It quickly became apperent that the main reason that Matthew had invited me over was because he is considering framing this piece but doubts his insticts and wanted another opinion. He feels that it needs “containing”. I can't tell right away. I have to walk closer and marvel at the pins and the enamel paint on plastic. “It’s very difficult to put together” he says with obvious understatement. “There is a thousand pins in it.” I made a mental flash to Mindsprinter's drawings with steel wool and pins in the wall.
There was no time to articulate this tangential connection to Matthew because even before I could say "Wow" He says, “Its very vascular.”
Which completely derails me while locking me in at the same time. Heck yeah. It seems that Matthew is tapping into the fourth dimensional veins of our planet. “The river is the support structure for this other infrastructure that’s placed on top. What it is is, you’ve got the Ganges and the Brahmaputra and the rail structures in the middle and the road structures overlaid on top." I am infected with his excitement.
I worry about the frame idea casting unwanted shadows.
We talk about shadows and his previous work.
But then I am distracted by this piece.
Matthew explains, "Here is the London A to Zed project part one. The river Thames down the middle. This is central city London. Kind-of where I’ve lived. You’ve got this semi-mirroring going on behind it on this silver sheet. Now if you move this closer you can get the mirror fairly perfect. . . but actually, I like the blur. A slight blur is quite nice, you know?"
As Matthew continues, he casually pronounces a memorable observation,
"In a sense it’s a poem of civilization.”
The names follow the rivers. “Its sort of a maritime global history. . . of London in particular. London is a good city to choose, because its unique in this element, I think, as being the country in Europe that expanded to the greatest degree and the expansion that it went through is reflected in the names in the city. More so than any other city really. The names are reflective of the industrial and trading heritage surrounding the rivers. . . Its just a word piece really. I’ve left out the structure you see."
I do see. I see what Matthew has left out. It is beautiful.
Instilling awe Tonight, Saturday July 1, at 8:00pm (Pacific time), Love Battery will be playing at the High Dive and it will be streaming live from KEXP's Audioasis. I applied my sanding through shtick to Love Battery's Confusion Au Go Go cover art, the band's 2000 release on C/Z. "It is arguably their best record since the amazing Dayglo from 1991." I've never been to the High Dive. Hundreds of clubs have opened in Seattle since we lived there. I just hope that the venue doesn't get into trouble for using Gil Elvgren's image on their web site. On second thought, as a painter, maybe I DO hope that they get into trouble. As far as KEXP goes, Stacy and I always listen to DJ Riz do his Expansions shows. It is a blessing that here in the State of Jefferson, we can archive any of his shows and listen any time. The station where the music matters also has a blog up and running for the hardcore buffs. 
The funny thing is, I've never seen them make these faces before.
I understand how you feel, I have been blogged out myself (reading very few) - artwork needs to be fed with lots more stuff than just other art. I am interested in personal insights into an artists life that the blog can offer, but even then, small doses. Good luck.
I wanted to add, artists blogs are interesting to me because I feel like they are more for the author than for any audience. Of course this means they won't always be as "good" as most other reading or entertainment, but they are different animal altogether.
Thanks for pointing out Harolds blog, looks like a great start!
Steven - I'll work harder for you! :)
Keep the faith - highs and lows as we all know. I'll check out Harold.
True confessions coming soon to HLIB.
seriously, I'm interested in some points ChrisJag mentions.
more later...
I was at Chris's blog-via Dennis Hollingsworth's blog, I'll tell you what, it gave me new found energy in the studio, like I was on a journey with a peer. Chris, I'm watching, Dennis gave you props, so I'm in, Steve, well, I have some painting here in my home of yours, what a small and infecting world, I really have the itch, hope I don't let you all down!
by the way, the music that you shared on your blog is still resonating with me Steve!
by the way, nice of you to give me props, nex time I roll to San Francisco, shall we get together on my way down?
Oh yeah! (541-951-0955)
I've been through phases like yours before, Steve. Not just in terms of art on the Internet, but on the Internet in general. I'm thinking back to the days when content first started appearing in large amounts, early 1994. We'd started up our own Web server and were throwing out a lot of random stuff. And one day I was reading, surfing -- this was before text searching -- and I realized I was skimming things, barely looking at them, and moving on, restless.
I tried to figure out, was it me? Was I just tired of the Web? Was the Web over and done with? Keep in mind, I'd watched FTP become uninteresting, I'd watched Gopher barely emerge before being overtaken by the WWW. So it was possible the Web was dying, too.
This went on for several days, maybe a couple of weeks, even. Then one day I stumbled on this site -- Mark Jason Dominus' Universe of Discourse. And I spent the next three or four days reading the entire thing obsessively.
I then realized that the problem wasn't that the Web was dying, or that I had grown bored, or any of that. I just hadn't found the good stuff and was still mired in the old, tired, and cruddy. As soon as I found something really good, I remembered what it was all about.
I've been through many more phases like that, where I just feel tapped out on the Web. Whatever topic is interesting me at the time, whatever cliques I'm circling, there come times when things cool off for a bit.
They pick back up again eventually.
As far as Chris Ashley's suggestion that the Internet should be more than an extension of print-based publishing, I say, good luck. I've been around this here Internet block a few times and have yet to see anything I'd really call worthy of the Internet as a medium as opposed to a distribution channel. The closest I can recall is actually from pretty early in the Web's history:
The Urban Diary from 1995. That was kind of neat.