I Am Suddenly a Painter
I spent my day working in my studio-cum-office-cum-library. I created a couple dozen or so knew calliglyphs, made presentable versions of some of my better fidgetglyphs, I texted my son Tim and his girlfriend (Jackie Leung), and I painted.
In my visual poetry career, I've made only one painting before, and I didn't really finish that. It rests a few feet away from me on an easel.
I began painting yesterday, because (while watching the play Three Birds Alighting on a Field, lit by my son) I had the idea of writing a letter and poem to Billy Mavreas in the form of paintings painted with white on black. The four paintings that ensued I entitled "292. Four Acrylic Squares" and made part of my 365 ltrs project, where I write a letter in the form of a poem to a new person every day for a year, and where I also stretch the definition of "letter" and "poem" as much as I can.
Only when I had finished painting that quartet of tiny canvases (each 4 inches by 4 inches) did I realize how I should have painted them.
Geof Huth, "Cinnamon Tea" (13 March 2011)I made two copies of "Four Acrylic Squares," so that I'd have a copy for myself, and I had one small canvas left over, so I experimented with it and produced "Cinnamon Tea." I hadn't mastered my technique yet with this canvas, but I painted it without any brushes. The black base paint I applied with a spatula, and the colors atop it I applied straight from the tube, treating the opening of the tube as the nib of a pen.
Geof Huth, "The All-Seeing Mind" (13 March 2011)
With this little discovery, I wanted to try another painting, so I pulled out a (10-by-10-inch canvas) and began to paint as if I were creating a fidgetglyph by hand. The field of play was larger, as was the nib of the "pen," but otherwise the experience was like creating a fidgetglyph. I'd found a wait to paint naturally, which was good since I'm not very handy with a brush.
Geof Huth, "Abundance of Waiting" (13 March 2011)After completing that larger paint, I created a pair of smaller ones, one oriented portrait and the other landscape. Over the years, I'd accumulated a number of canvases in preparation for this day, so I worked my way through most of them this afternoon.
Geof Huth, "Between Above and Below" (13 March 2011)
My one problem was a paucity of colors of paint. I had only three colors to work with (discounting white, even though I did use it once on these white canvases).
Geof Huth, "The Swirling of Being" (13 March 2011)
By the end of the day, after creating those dozens of calliglyphs and fidgetglyphs, I returned to painting. I had two canvases left, both relatively large, and I used one of them to create my final painting of the day.
So now I'm a painter, not a good one, not as good as Jackie, who has to paint with real skill for her work on stage sets, but I've learned to paint like a poet, like a glyphist, which is all I am.
ecr. l'inf.
In my visual poetry career, I've made only one painting before, and I didn't really finish that. It rests a few feet away from me on an easel.
I began painting yesterday, because (while watching the play Three Birds Alighting on a Field, lit by my son) I had the idea of writing a letter and poem to Billy Mavreas in the form of paintings painted with white on black. The four paintings that ensued I entitled "292. Four Acrylic Squares" and made part of my 365 ltrs project, where I write a letter in the form of a poem to a new person every day for a year, and where I also stretch the definition of "letter" and "poem" as much as I can.
Only when I had finished painting that quartet of tiny canvases (each 4 inches by 4 inches) did I realize how I should have painted them.
Geof Huth, "Cinnamon Tea" (13 March 2011)I made two copies of "Four Acrylic Squares," so that I'd have a copy for myself, and I had one small canvas left over, so I experimented with it and produced "Cinnamon Tea." I hadn't mastered my technique yet with this canvas, but I painted it without any brushes. The black base paint I applied with a spatula, and the colors atop it I applied straight from the tube, treating the opening of the tube as the nib of a pen.
Geof Huth, "The All-Seeing Mind" (13 March 2011)With this little discovery, I wanted to try another painting, so I pulled out a (10-by-10-inch canvas) and began to paint as if I were creating a fidgetglyph by hand. The field of play was larger, as was the nib of the "pen," but otherwise the experience was like creating a fidgetglyph. I'd found a wait to paint naturally, which was good since I'm not very handy with a brush.
Geof Huth, "Abundance of Waiting" (13 March 2011)After completing that larger paint, I created a pair of smaller ones, one oriented portrait and the other landscape. Over the years, I'd accumulated a number of canvases in preparation for this day, so I worked my way through most of them this afternoon. 
Geof Huth, "Between Above and Below" (13 March 2011)My one problem was a paucity of colors of paint. I had only three colors to work with (discounting white, even though I did use it once on these white canvases).
Geof Huth, "The Swirling of Being" (13 March 2011)By the end of the day, after creating those dozens of calliglyphs and fidgetglyphs, I returned to painting. I had two canvases left, both relatively large, and I used one of them to create my final painting of the day.
So now I'm a painter, not a good one, not as good as Jackie, who has to paint with real skill for her work on stage sets, but I've learned to paint like a poet, like a glyphist, which is all I am.
ecr. l'inf.
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