Tuesday, 31 July 2012
A Web Spun in Reverse
I am taking a little break to warm up in a sunny window with chokeberry tea. I've been spider-like this past little while: blocking everything out, joining up all the lines, and then taking everything apart again. Since I started weaving my webs on paper, a snow of eraser dust has mounted up around the legs of my desk.
I have been building invisibly across an expanse of deep white paper, making homes and then whirling them around like tops to find the best face to show of them. Shadows of people slide past on the page from time to time, only to be burst open into the bright oblivion of empty paper. But all of this drama takes place in a creeping, creaking sort of slow motion, and with long breaks in the action.
Some people quite admirably make dozens of studies for an artwork. They can lay them all out at the end and clearly show the journey from their first idea to their finished work. At school when I was growing up, in art classes and math classes we were obliged to perform these sorts of demonstrations down the pages of our notebooks. I inevitably went back at the end, just before handing a thing in, and treacherously made up all the steps.
Despite my best efforts, I am a secretive person by nature. My drawings rest on top of endless invisible false starts and revisions. I would love this to change, but perhaps learning to erase with one hand while I draw with the other is the surest way of speeding things up.