In case you're wondering: some nomenclature

Every time someone asks me something like, "So, what kind of stuff do you paint?" I'm stumped for an answer. You'd think I could have come up with something by now, but I haven't. I don't have a clue what kind of stuff I paint. And, no, a response like, "Abstract stuff," tells someone nothing. The term "abstract" is almost meaningless.

There are three types of pictures I paint, if you want to break it down into broad categories:

1. Blossoms: These are any pictures that are basically constructed on a rectilinear pattern composed of a number of small "cells." See any of the previously posted pictures for examples. The reason they're called blossoms is this: A while ago I made a small picture, maybe 8 X 8 inches, and in one portion of it the cells seemed to emerge, as if projecting up out of the picture frame. I told someone, "It's weird. It's as if the thing blossoms." Ever since then, that's what I call them, regardless what they look like. Every one of them has what I call the "blossom point," which is usually the group of four or five cells first put on the sheet. The blossom point determines how cells are shaded in all areas of the picture, so choosing where to start the picture is one of the hardest decisions involved in making a blossom picture.

2. Cascades: Cascades are almost the same as blossoms. The primary difference is that, rather than having relatively uniform cells, they have irregularly shaped and sized forms. Another difference is that the shading of the forms in a cascade serves the dual purposes of creating depth relative to the picture plane and placing forms in a perspectival relationship to each other. The reason I call them cascades is that when I was making one of the first ones I felt that there was a sort of vertical flow to the forms. I couldn't think of any other term to describe the effect. The one common aspect to all the cascades is that they in one way or another relate to pressure and the accommodation of pressure. I'll leave it at that.

3. Everything else - Dimensional pictures: I keep photos of most of my pictures on my computer, arranged by month and year. Every folder is labeled something like "2014 Dimensional." It's just something I started calling my pictures because quite a few of them have a feeling of being somewhere between two and three dimensions. I'll post an example below. I have a number of small pictures that I used to look at with a magnifying glass because it was almost like looking at something that was hovering above the paper and the various parts of forms seemed like they were stacked above each other. Really weird, but fascinating. So, anyway, it doesn't matter if it's a landscape or just a dark background picture with some strange forms in it, they're all "dimensional."

Here's a dimensional picture. This thing is really wonderful to look at in person, because no matter how closely you look at it it appears to have a relief to it.

 

Below is a picture I also refer to as dimensional. In my computer it's called Gray and Red Dimensional. (It's also the picture in the upper right corner of the screen. For quite a long time I've meant to frame it, but for some reason I can't get around to doing so.)

I'll never be able to come anywhere near doing what Mantegna and Bruegel did hundreds of years ago, but it's pictures like theirs that will always inspire me:

Bruegel - Christ and the Woman Taken in Adultery

Mantegna - Introduction of the Cult of Cybele to Rome

(I've been fortunate to see both of these in person. The Bruegel is in the Courtauld Gallery and the Mantegna is in the National Gallery, both in London. Absolutely mind-blowing pictures. When I say "dimensional" it's an understatement for these two.)