©2007 by Genie Maples
A good friend of mine talks about containers. About holding space in which to be… to be what? Safe? Aware? Anchored in the time-space continuum? Sometimes I think of the container as a chalice. Sometimes I think of it as a channel. However I hold it, the concept is valuable. Defined space and time, limitations, boundaries... they give me a way to slow the torrent of emotion and sensation and amorphous energy that is my experience of the world and my existence. A way to focus. A way to define, at least temporarily.
Definition. I struggle with it, in both my life and my work. I’m drawn to abstraction. I’m sometimes asked, “Why?” by clients, as they walk the studio, gazing and commenting on the work. I try to give simple answers, but if I talk long enough, the complexity always surfaces:
Because I’m drawn to color, and this allows me to explore unhindered in that arena.
I like the suggestibility, the absolute necessity that the viewer brings his or her own history and perspective to the viewing, that it is so clearly a conversation between the artist and the beholder. That it requires relationship.
That the work seems to ask, rather than answer. That it is as much a mirror as it is a window.
That it’s easier than direct representation, and I’m lazy. That it’s so much harder than direct representation and I crave the challenge.
That painting is a dance for me -- more a physical expression than a visual one, and the object created is really just an artifact of the tactile experience of painting it.
All true.
But I’ve come to realize that the most direct answer is this: I paint abstractly because I experience abstractly. It is what I know. It is how I think. It is natural to me. Sometimes I do build a container. In that limited time, space, conversation, relationship, moment of meditation, whatever… within that compartmentalization, things become sharp and defined and experience-able in a deep and profound way. Knowable. Dependable in the moment. Trustworthy. Solid.
But things change. One experience, concept, lyric, image, gesture, moment, bleeds into the others. They overlay and echo, illuminate and obscure, form patterns and break them. The planets move, the body inhales and exhales, experience shifts and rushes on. Boundaries fade. Paradox returns. Ice becomes water, becomes vapor. Until the next time it settles into form.
But there is always color, there is always movement, there is always relationship and effect, balance lost and found.
So I dance.
122 Riverside Dr., Studio G Asheville, NC 28801 (828) 273-8426 geniem@mac.com
