Old Wood

 
20 years ago I visited a temple on a hill in Nara above the big Buddha.  I found some old wooden panels, painted on 1000 years ago.  The paintings were done with sumi ink, but in 1000 years the wood had darkened to almost the same color as the ink that was painted on it.  In a few spots the artist had used white.  I expect when it was painted the white was nearly invisible, but now it stood out vividly.  I have often wondered if the artist had known the wood would change so, and so much change the paintings.  How could he not?  But again, how could he expect that most of his lines would disappear?

Time and time. 

This summer I have started to paint on wood from the Meiji Era, using sumi ink, seeing it when I paint it on and watching it almost disappear when it dries.

This is a painting I did last week of the Kokyo.




Kato-'s Gate 2012

One thing leads to another.  this is a painting of a party at my house.



Saturday Night  2012

 

And after the party:

 

home alone 2012

Hidden Voices

 Trees have spirits in Japan.  They have souls. 

 We lost another tree in our garden, a big old kiri tree.  We had lived with this tree, watched it naked in the winter, full in the summer, swept up its leaves in the autumn, big broad leaves. It was a wonder. 

I kept the pieces to remember.  I stacked them carefully to dry.  Then I started to work on them.  I started digging - Was I looking for it's soul,  or was I trying to save my own?

It felt good to work on them, to make something new from the fallen tree. 

I made an inside space.  After a time, and to my surprise, I started to paint on the inside walls. 

Painting inside was new. 

 I was no longer painting in 2D. The back wall was a flat space.  The back wall was a space I was accustomed to, but next to it was another plane, and then the top, and the bottom and the other side. I found myself making a painting in 5 different directions, all connected. To do it I had to create new tools. I made brushes that painted around corners.

But more important than brushes, I had to have a new way of thinking, 5 planes interconnected, but different.  I looked at ancient cave paintings for education.

And later I turned to the mandala.  I noticed that the 5 different planes inside my wood mirrored the 5 circles that make up a mandala.

As is often the way with painting, one step informs the next. Each new step is an adventure and an education, allowing, or suggesting the next.

Work continues.  With luck I will have some things to show in October.

nothing virtual

Sitting in my studio, working on a new piece of wood I realized how opposite of virtual it was. 

It is heavy.  It takes up space.  It is only here - it is in one place. And it is 3D.  It is more than 3D - it is 3D on the outside, and on the inside it is 5D, or more.  Inside it has a top, bottom, 2 sides and a back, all five planes interrelated.

It has a touch, a surface, a complex of texture and hardness. It even has a smell.  This piece is made form kusunoki (yukliptis wood)


It does not translate to virtual.  It is not possible to properly translate it to a screen.

I found a little block of wood, a gem, don't ask me where.  I will say that the rich kid students at Tokyo Geidai this season are clearing out thier studios and getting rid of thier treasures.  If you know where and when to look, before the garbage truck, it is amaizing what can be found.

I found a little block of wood.  I liked its size and feel.  It was certianly well seasoned.   I thought it was lauan or some other  kind of soft hardwood.

Today I cut into it in my studio and what a fragrance.  It is kusunoki, canphor wood.  What a treat.  I hope I can use it in a worthy way.

My treasure.