Universal Interdependence, or Alternative Sideshow

Universal Interdependence — everything is connected to, and reliant upon, everything else. All past experiences help to define the next. In my art practice (like that of any art practice) everything I have made in the past informs the next piece. Influence from peers, mentors, and cultural heroes all factor into the act of mark making.

Leading up to this show I knew that I wanted to paint a pattern on sheet material, then chop it up and reassemble it into the 3D abstractions that you see on display here. One day my partner says to me, “What if you presented these pieces in front of a wall with the same pattern on it?” There you go, inspired by my muse yet again.

Sideshow — 1: a minor show offered in addition to a main exhibition, 2: an incidental diversion or spectacle. The sideshow as we have come to know it now — a cultural phenomenon as much of a nuisance as they are a thing of beauty, not to mention incredibly dangerous (opinions aside). Born from the love of thrill and excitement and sprinkled with an essence of danger they are on the forefront of organic, social entertainment. What I am presenting here is the polar opposite — so profoundly static. These pieces are an artistic expression born from the love of combining shapes and colors and sprinkled with an essence of craft. The title of this exhibition includes a play on words for this gallery — being across town from Kala HQ. The window gallery, a place where people may gather at an appointed time to experience together, or one that is happened upon by chance — by being in this particular place while perhaps going from one thing to the next. As far from dangerous as can possibly be, however exciting for the eyes — if I am lucky enough to have such eyes peering in through these windows.

Here is a passage from Hospital of the Transfiguration by Stanislaw Lem — a book I was reading while creating this body of work that spurred this statement; which may lead to an explanation of what it all means. A quote by one of the characters in a very compelling novella:

“…everything contains everything else. The most distant star swims at the rim of a chalice. Today’s morning dew contains last night’s mist. Everything is woven into a universal interdependence. No one thing can elude the power of others. Least of all man, the thinking thing. Stones and faces echo in your dreams. The smell of flowers bends the pathways of our thoughts. So why not freely shape that which has an accidental form? Surrounding yourself with gold and ivory trinkets can be like charging a battery. A statue the size of your finger is the expression of the artists fancy, distilled over the years. And those hundreds of hours are not futile - we can warm ourselves in front of a sculpture as though it were a fire.”

-Zygmunt Sekulowski

Approaching Zero

Approaching Zero
a mural about the void

I have a crush on mathematics: call it a hobby or a fascination, but
for me it is a passionate (if one-sided) affair. My work uses precise
measurement and calculated repetition to consider the division of
space and the infinite series of sequences that make up the universe
-- or at the very least, those small pockets of the universe that sit
between my paintings and the viewer. My practice of painting is rooted
in an exploration of geometry. Early on in my life I was pretty good
in mathematics - I was not at the top of my class however, I was above
average. That was a long time ago. I have left the precision of
numbers and equations far behind for a more intuitive approach towards
defining, or reducing, a surface to basic spacial features.

One thing that I find interesting about numbers is the idea of zero.
It is the opposite of a value, a non value if you will. Another thing
that fascinates me about math is the concept of an irrational number -
a value that cannot be expressed by a fraction. One example of this is
found when graphing a tangent function. In doing so one is left with a
series of curves divided by a frequency of vertical asymptotes -
points on the graph where the function is undefined. There are points
along the graph where the lines never touch. They venture into
infinity, getting closer and closer, yet they never connect. I have
taken some poetic license with these two concepts and combined them to
represent the intangible aspects of creativity - the undefinable
moments of creative process - Approaching Zero.

With this painting I began the process with the eastern wall of the
gallery. Taking its shape, I reflected the pitch of the ceiling into
an “x” across the center of the wall. As a result the “x” defined a
diamond shape in the middle. The fade to white in the heart of that
shape is my interpretation of zero, as defined by my own irrational
process.

Divine Madness →

My latest paintings continue to chart a course toward an imagined intersection of past and present, where the school of hard-edged abstraction pioneered in the 1960s meets the patterns and polyrhythms of modern music, mathematics, and daily life in the 21st century. Recently, a new element has also been introduced by way of my friend and occasional mentor, the exceptionally talented painter Guy Diehl. During an in-studio demonstration, Guy generously provided me the key to his color blending technique, as well as a recipe for mixing acrylic paints so that they may behave more like oils, staying wet and loose. While our overall styles couldn’t be more different, the master’s influence has left a significant mark: the softer gradations of color of these new works directly reflect this new addition to my vocabulary as a painter.

I often think of my work as analogous to music and mathematics – like these ‘languages,’ my work takes the form of a nonverbal expression that is both inspired and supported by naturally occurring patterns and rhythmic phenomena. My paintings are not necessarily meant to be understood on a cerebral level; the emphasis is more on a visual sensation. Having chosen hard-edged abstraction as the path to express this language, every stroke and proportion needs to be considered for me to feel a painting is complete. In keeping with this approach, my practice comprises both a rigorous sense of visual discipline and simultaneously, a sense of fun and light-heartedness. Like Lee “Scratch” Perry blowing smoke into the master tapes while recording in an effort to achieve a certain inexplicable effect, I too want some of the freewheeling pleasure I take in making each work to come through in its final state. The liberty I take with titles reflects this enjoyment. For these works, I have borrowed phrases from Neil deGrasse Tyson as well as inspirations including song lyrics or titles and passages from books that are currently on my nightstand, connecting my studio practice to the universe of color and rhythm that surrounds us.

Brian Caraway
2017