Lately I have been feeling the desire to paint on a larger canvas. Maybe it is the now seemingly endless almost-chore of painting the postcard-sized art pieces for the 100-day project that makes me want more space. Maybe it's having always thought of what will ship easier or store easier, thus I have kept my thinking to making small things. I have been tinkering and experimenting with blank note cards, gift cards, affordable art prints, stickers, and other portable tokens. I have a tiny studio as well so it only naturally flows that I keep my project small and manageable. So maybe I have had enough of having to work small, at least for the moment maybe I should stretch myself out more.
My 100-day project has been an invaluable learning process. It has given me the seedlings for larger works that I want to explore. Below are the pieces that feel like they have more to show and to be if given enough room. Like seedlings they need to be replanted and given space and sunshine and time.
Ink, particularly sumi ink, has become a staple in recent works. Partly inspired by Yuko Shimizu's inky drawings, and also by my hungering for things and people Japanese, and also because sumi ink smells of petrichor. I like the solid blackness of it, how it unapologetically strikes across anything and renders impenetrable shadows on once blank space.
The red sun rose and has begun to lead me through a trail. Its twin, the blue moon has made an appearance as well but had given way first to fire. So the Impossible Garden has grown into more landscapes, boundaries pushed, the Wildforest pulling closer. I discovered the path to a sea, as well as a path to a desert.
But the sun would not fit forever in postcards. So I started unwrapping the 20 x 30 inch watercolour boards, and the A3 sheets, and whatever paper size in between that is available. The sun needs space to shine, and I need to walk longer, deeper paths.
This red sun series is teaching me something about space and emptiness and fullness. Also about silence and heat and burning and light. The lessons are long and difficult, and they tug at inconvenient soul-strings. But I must keep following the trail. I heard it said in a dream that somewhere up ahead, I will begin to meet more than flowers and insects and small animals...