The Fullness of Nothing

Flat, polished, smooth. Raised, rough, coarse. Cut, incised, pitted, scratched, uneven. Hairy, sticky. Soft, hard. Shiny, glossy, reflective. Semigloss, satin, silk, frosted, matte. 

​By this point in my career, I have done just about everything to the surface of the canvas. This is precisely why this might be the most difficult and perfect painting I have ever made.

It's PERFECT because instead of having to change it to create something beautiful, I acknowledge that it is beautiful just the way it is. Perfect in its effortlessness. Perfect in its potential. 

It's CHALLENGING because (and I loathe to admit this) I have used painting as a way to prove to myself and others that I am good, worthy, relevant and 'busy doing things'. Choosing to leave the canvas in its raw and natural state takes me "out of the picture" (pun intended) almost entirely. My irelanvancy is sobering. This feels both threatening, and like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.

The Fulness of Nothing, stretched cotton on wood supports 36 x 48 in.

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