Tag: memory

50’s Riffin

The place was upstate & in the middle of nowhere. She had heard about it from some of her friends. No one said what actually went on there but merely alluded to it w/slightly arched brows. The boy her parents insisted she spend time w/. “I know where we can go…” The drive was mostly done in silence as the small talk that they had attempted made it seem even more awkward. For his part, they forced jocularity he had tried out made him instantly think of his father and so his mouth snapped shut with no sound but much force. The ride was just long enough for the night quiet that surrounded them to become exciting, as if they were at the start of becoming co-conspirators.
There were some cars parked unevenly out front.

He took her hand and they went through the door. At first they had both been scared. Julia had been so frightened that much like the accident when she was younger, she became very quiet and although she moved, radiated a stillness. All of this kicked in before she actually became calm. For his part, his nerves remained a sea whose surface continued to roil. He looked at her, she was so calm, his palm was a wet guilty verdict.

Julia looked all around. A few people were holding beer bottles with the necks between their fingers like a piece of sporting equipment for a game with which they are only vaguely familiar. Antonella was slow dancing in the middle of the room. She had never been one of the pretty girls, the group within the group of burgeoning women. But after summer vacation word got around that she had done more than any of her better looking peers and this was parlayed into a type of popularity. All the times that she was ignored, she was now getting hers, insisting that her boyfriend dance with her.

Some of the boys sit on the lip of the fireplace, cigarettes dangling from their bottom lips, nudging each other with their shoulders and giggling.

In very little time Julia realized that there was nothing to be frightened of, this was just a giant playhouse with children playing at being adults. An entire night of watching the behavior of others, the effect similar to someone trying to describe a movie which they had not seen but merely had heard about, adulthood. Her date never fully relaxed and for the rest of her life Julia always gravitated towards men who were more frightened than her.
FiniOct 8 W.Wolfson

 

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by Wayne Wolfson

Tan Lines

Between all my recent travel and getting ready to go on the road, I realized that I had not done a piece on my French Cotton paper in a while.

 

“As a child I spent my entire summers barefoot, right up until the day before school started. I think that’s why as an adult I like beaches so much, they are very different in Europe. ”

French cotton paper & Watercolors 7×10

 

 

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by Wayne Wolfson

Dior Glasses

There is a pleasure to exploring when on the road. A different but equally satisfying thing is to have places all over the world where one is known, a regular. This is a self portrait of me at one of my favorite places while on the road.

Watercolor & Multi Media Paper 9×12

 

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by Wayne Wolfson

Caro Diario

On the road. This paper was just laying around. Although it was generally being put to use as scrap paper, it is landscape style. It was nothing fancy nor great but I decided to improvise part of my trip diary on it. It is not whether something is frame worthy or selleble but the process itself which brings me joy and is the personal payoff for me. I was pleased with the results.

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by Wayne Wolfson

Tani

First painting from on the road. I am very pleased with this, even more so as I had far from ideal lightening and worked on a counter.

Tani 5.5×8.5 watercolor and paper

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by Wayne Wolfson

The Sea (for Kini)

I used to do large paintings, acrylic on canvas. Door sized things. I was not very good at the time and I sometimes think the real art was in the making of the pieces as I often had an audience. Everyone liked the works but I think it was being caught up in the moment or after the fact, remembering the time.

I got serious about painting, I got good. I am far better with watercolors than I ever was with acrylics. I got rid of 95% of my old works.

My paintings and drawing tend to be far smaller now. my largest graphite pieces are 9×12 with the paintings being 7×10. (more often than not 5.5×8.5)

I have a logic to this. I want the viewer to feel as if ease-dropping in on whatever scene I am putting forth. As important as the emotional effect, i have the first time or new collector’s in mind.

When  first getting into art there is a vague sense of what one likes. The more you delve into art, the more exposure you have, the palate becomes fuller formed. To get one of the larger pieces so en vogue when first starting out, you run the risk of it dictating the timber of a burgeoning collection.

I want a collector to live with my works, not under them. For people where space is at a premium, the now seemingly typical big-boys dominate a room. The real big pieces, you have to almost put goggles over the mind’s eye, you stop noticing it except for rare instances and this defeats the purpose of having art.

With my now firmly established voice, I have no idea if my technique would even work with large pieces. As a challenge for myself I have decided to do a few larger (for me) pieces. Regardless of whether I can make it work, I still do not see myself going as big as is popular. Bigger is not better it is just “more”.

This is my first “big” piece.

The Sea (for Kini) graphite & paper 14×17

 

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by Wayne Wolfson

Collarbone

This piece is 9×12 Watercolor on multi media paper (98 lb) . I am very pleased with the results. I do not work any magic on the photos of my work. I  only use my phone as the photos are meant to give the gist of a piece, often in person there is even more going on with a work.

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by Wayne Wolfson

Mis-Beckett(ed)

The best art in any medium has the effect of feeling extremely personal to each person who enjoys it even as it touches a multitude. Everyone has “their” author/painter/band/musician. This thing is recommended  to friends or in general conversation akin to how a proud parent talks of their child.

We all make totems of artists & their work. The more levelheaded ways are when we associate it in to the memory of the place/time/person(s) of first discovery. The work/artist can serve as inspiration or a brief respite from daily life with all its mundane commitments.

This is all fine so long as an audience keeps in mind that, although it may not be broadcast, the artists has an intent or idea behind the work which is the absolute truth beyond what one may make of the work. Its true meaning and intent.

Samuel Beckett has always been a favorite author of mine. His work often possesses a density whose meaning on the surface may seem a little open ended, but which is rarely the case.

Anyone with boho or intellectual leanings knows of Waiting for Godot. As for the rest of his work, with the advent of social media Beckett is often reduced down to bumper sticker aphorisms. This reduction is made worse by how often orphaned from the rest of the text, the use and meaning is wrong.

I was once again reminded of this via twitter which is 40% people posting quotes & material by others as to assert their individuality, 40% memes/gifs also by others and 10% original material.

It was the end of the night so I decided to peel off a portrait of Beckett. I used a Blackwing Palomino pencil I wanted to show the depth of his eye sockets and crags without having to rely on heavy shading. This pencil always lends a graphic feel to the work but also allows for volume and mass to come through.

9×12 Beckett

 

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by Wayne Wolfson