April 13, 2005

Laboratory Paintings

Young Alberto (+-22 yrs.) stopped to hand over the ARCO catalogs that Aaron gave me this Winter. Thickly muscled and a boyish smile, Alberto is an young artist from Tossa, going to school in Barcelona. He's taking a break from the university because since his mother died, his little brother has become quiet.

Alberto is taking the time to draw out his little brother.

Alberto knows that he has to get out into the big art cities: Berlin, London, NY or LA someday. In the meantime, an art fair catalog will have to do. And it looks like something clicked. Alberto wants to start a kind of painting that he calls "laboratory paintings", this as he forms a circle with his hands, gazing through them into a painting in his imagination.

He wants to begin by painting perfect.... perfect circles. We talked about science and art. We spoke of perfection and what it might mean to be human. We talked of craft and strategy and what that might mean.

I say: You go, Alberto. Go for it young friend.

Posted by Dennis at April 13, 2005 3:17 PM

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Our dream dream perfectly. Why would we even change one of them? Though awake something different infronts--manifestations and building: other's dreams--masterfully rising: others pertinently surprising, stead. The orb we speak through-- choirboy and girl.

A young undergraduate while doing my masters kind of befriended me, or I him, I can't remember: Well he was doing this great stuff executed very quick using any and every material at his disposal. They were good. But for him they were not good enough. He would tell me about this idea that he wanted to make this something, something that you just couldn?t help staring at--that helped or held your attention with the minimum of effort. I thought a tall order.

On visiting his studio a year and a half later I noted not more than four works in progress. I remembered back to the two-dozen leaning, stacked, hung and taped, to the wall on university ground. But here in a privately paid studio I was looking at just four.

I instantly felt guilty.
He told me things were not going well. That it was really difficult to get these things communicating: that could hold you past a simple moment. He also told me how he had just taken a job at the local fruit and vegetable market as a counter guy, and that maybe later he would move on up to register. He mentioned, too, there was a studio going.

A small sweep of masking tape mixed with dusk and wood chip sat piled off near the door.
I smiled and said, ?I'll ask around.?

I thought back to the simple moment of purity for a moment, and wished good luck.

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