These 12” square paintings are aftermaths, or consequences, of my larger works. They serve as a transition from the expansion and chaos involved in big sized expression to a relative order and calm. They allow me to return to “self” consciousness, to exit my studio better prepared for the outer world.
I often work on many paintings simultaneously, but they are not executed in relation to one another, nor with any intention toward combination. They are singular evocations of random experiences, objects, flora, fauna, scenes, recollections, which emerge and evolve as I lay down paint.
Each painting in its distinctive individual integrity wants sole contemplation. When it is assembled with others for hanging in a painterly composition the painting takes on another role, that of contributing to a group. In editing, shuffling, juxtaposing the images, each is scrutinized in terms of its interaction with its immediate neighbors, as well as its contribution to the whole. The paintings become elements within a format, as songs in an album, or experts on a board of directors. Are they thematically bound or merely interestingly edited? Are they indispensable to the combination, or would a substitution be suitable? Do their qualities suffer in a group setting, or are they enhanced? Do they contribute to the cultural climate? That these measurements are unavoidable are reflected in the very fact of arrangement: constant choosing, judging, accepting, rejecting. And in the end, is the whole superior to the ingredients?
The odd mix of demands in life, the ambiguous requirements of social existence, combined with an attempted faithfulness to an uninhibited creative process, indicate that transformational possibilities are endless. But is adjustment an achievement? Why not embrace singularity, and honor the unique, remain stubborn? If the result is discord, so be it. Perhaps we should all learn to live a grander generosity.
---Kathleen Cornell revised, February 2008