I have a narrative mind. Not surprising since I spent most of my life making theater, telling stories. I struggle to create abstracts now that I make visual art.
When I was eleven, I remember my parents leaving me home alone while they went to a holiday party. I always made things. While The Carol Burnet Show played in the background, I was making a Christmas Tree mobile. I had cut a large cardboard triangle and divided it into seven sections. A string ran down the middle so the sections would move and spin when it was hung. I glued pages from magazines covering each section. I looked for textures and colors, not images. My Aunt Nathlee, the one adult in my family who understood me, marveled that I ignored “pictures” and sought the abstract. I long for my eleven-year-old mind.
I have good friends. They are married. One is an educator, the other an artist. One has an abstract mind. The other has a narrative mind. This insight into the way their minds function has enhanced their marriage.
Now I try and push myself towards the abstract. I always think of shapes and lines when I work to create a composition. First, however, I must trick myself to create art that is truly abstract.
This piece is inspired by a trip to Lover’s Beach at the tip of the Baja Peninsula. It is titled “Ventana,” window in English. So, I guess it is not a true abstract. It’s a step.
As they say in México, “Poco a poco”