House of Notebooks

House?

Apartment of Toast

Apartment of Notebooks

Is this Mute speaking? Art that engages me communicates quickly in words that may be mine—as if I could own words—but that begin with the art. I wouldn’t think these words were I not looking at what has caused the words to speak. If I’m with someone or if I will write about the art, I speak the words aloud or write them on paper.

Looking at Mute, Wonder Bread and slabs come to mind. Also, later, visions of buildings that have been bombed and whose exposed floors sag. Or the aftermath of an earthquake. Mute either cannot speak or refuses to. Either the drawing is of buildings or structures collapsing, held together by tape, or of buildings sustained by tape, buildings that stand mute.

A pleasure of abstract art is just now, just here where the blue of the tape meets…you can see it again years from today remembering just when, just where—the quick gesture intact, caught by surprise, delight intensified.

“Mere description is the beginning and end of good art criticism.” – Patrick Heron

Mere description is, for this writer, the most enjoyable part of art criticism. What are the words for what I’m looking at? What are the words for what I see in what I’m looking at?

DF in both titles stands for drafting film. I could go online to see what drafting film is, but I’m looking, not looking it up.

DF-27    Grid    Framed pictures    Boxes dark inside    Slides    White around dark

DF-29    Cubes    Grid    Boxes dark gray    Blocks

Both works are 12 x 11 inches. They could be ten times the size, yet no more concentrated.

What is seen when looking: new days in a new month on a new calendar page. Like all days, empty spaces until we fill them in or X them off. Their divisions are arbitrary: 60 seconds, 60 minutes, 24 hours. There is a tribe in West Africa that keeps to a four-day week. Every day we have faith in the arbitrary.