Monday, November 7, 2011

Works in Progress, November 2011: Part One

This week, I'm going to show you what's sitting at the forefront of my pile of works in progress.  Literally.  And it's a huge fucking pile.

This first one today is a piece I wrote about back in July.  I was blackout drunk when I began it, not long after Meghan and I broke up.  Since finding it the following morning I've been wanting to continue the piece but it wasn't until maybe a couple of weeks ago that I did anything with it.  It's still not finished.  I'm not sure what the next steps will be but I know the success of this painting hinges on how well I take advantage of its impalement. 

Its origins may be murky, but it's come to represent (for me) time as measured by the sun, the inescapability of gravity, violent fucking and breaking through to a fresh way of thinking.  These are the underpinnings of its intentions; its growth marked by them. 
I took some video of the paint on the stick dripping onto the canvas to try to illustrate how some of the patterns actually form.  I'm not sure how much of the footage will prove valuable, but when this one's done I'll write an entry dedicated to it and showing the entire process.  As much of it, anyway, as I can remember. 

This next one is so far the front half of a pink and white pair of ladies' underpants pressed into a pool of blue and white paint.  More and more, I anticipate this piece will prove difficult to complete. 

I've had this painting hanging on the wall in various places around my studio for a couple of months now.  I keep moving it thinking maybe that will help me figure out what next to do with it, but frankly, I have no clue.  I simply have to trust that at the right moment, I'll know.  Hm.  I just read that paragraph back to myself.  It sounds like I'm painting about looking for love.  Go figure.  I guess I'll keep that in mind.

Now this one is one I'm really excited about.  Way back in April I wrote about this panel here. I was sort of afraid of fucking it up because of the religious training of my childhood. I go into a little more detail in the entry I just linked you to, but basically, I was raised to be Niantiquut, a religion my father, as near as I can piece together, pieced together himself especially for my brother and me.  One of the bits of Niantiquut taken from Native American lore is that the white birch is sacred and holy.

In the same way that my mother sometimes refers to herself as a Recovering Catholic, I sometimes refer to myself as a recovering Niantiquut.  So there you go.

It should be noted that this piece is a collaborative effort between me and Rahkeen Gray.  He was here when I was dripping the black on it and I asked him to contribute to it with one of my squeegee brushes.  He essentially determined the trajectory of the piece from that point onward with a single stroke.

Anyway, since the time I bought this panel and others like it, I've pretty much stopped painting on anything but birch panels.  They are in every way I care about entirely superior to canvas.  This particular piece is either a hair's width from completion or so far from being finished that I can even begin to see how it may end up.  I have very particular intentions for it but will keep them to myself for the moment out of superstitious reverence and because, well, I'm wrong a lot of the time.

Tomorrow, I'll post about some pieces I thought were finished but which I now know are not, and exactly what my intentions are for each of them. Altogether, I plan to share 15 works in progress over the course of the week.  Stay tuned!

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Watch your language and your alcohol, and for Pete's sake some of these proclivities!

I come in peace, a passerby, and acquaintance of sorts. Please excuse my reading of your posts if they are for friends.

Is "Recovering" capitalized. It is interesting that you mentioned your Mom is Catholic. While many people are good and kind, I sensed that your Mother was loving. Maybe Dad in his quirky instinctual ways too. It is the Holy Spirit that leads us.

Jason Randolph Burrell said...

Hi Anonymous,

Thank you for reading. My posts are written more for myself than anything else- my diary. I've invited the entire world to come view it though, so don't feel you need be excused for reading.

I swear, I drink and I smoke. In fact, there's a very long list of things I do on which I suspect some people might frown. My vices however are the things which make this life bearable for me. I make no excuses for them.

As far as religion, to each his own. Personally, I have learned to be suspicious of it. Anyone who says he knows for certain the origins of the universe or what happens to the soul when you die is lying. And someone who's trying to convince people to congregate and all believe the same thing about these questions is probably trying to take your money.

However, as much as some might take these sentiments to mean that I'm atheistic in my worldview, this is anything but the case. It seems to me an obvious truth that we have souls which are themselves part, as all things are part, of God. Beyond that, who the fuck knows? Not me. Not you. Nor anyone else but God. And that, as far as I'm concerned, is exactly as it should be.

On the other hand, I still don't open my umbrella indoors or pick up pennies on the sidewalk that aren't facing heads-up. And I always knock on wood when appropriate. So there you go. I'm not as rational as I'd prefer to be ;)

blank said...

Thank you, Jason. I hope you are enjoying writing and painting!

God is love and kindness and peace, of which we are all built upon and joined.

I have many faults!

I think you are funny sometimes, and there were a few things you shared that I can relate to.

Some of your more recent artwork seems to be very abstract in perception.

Always be safe for yourself and those you love.