You have an idea. And image. This. This is what you want to create.
You have a blank slate. Canvas. Silk, in this case.
I think that blank has always intrigued me. It takes me back to when I was a child and my mother would keep this basket of art supplies. ONLY for when we were traveling by train from Virginia to Maine. Only then.
She would open it up. Inside were these “magic” books. You colored in them. You just scribbled color. And an image would appear. Like magic.
Do I now think that will happen? As then? With these blank surfaces?
On some level, I must. I anticipate the joy. Out of nothing – something.
Only recently, it’s been less about something. More, it’s been about the seeing of that something. The ways that color interact.
How close can the colors come together, and we still see that they are different? How undefined can an element be and the mind’s eye compensates? How one dimensional can it be portrayed and three are sensed? How much can color lead the eye…
Starting with playing. Playing. Playing.
Seeking, always seeking the revelations. The a-ha’s. The unexpected delights.
Offered by the blank space.