Painting as an investigation of reality. In painting it seems nothing can be actually captured. Words as well capture nothing whatsoever about reality itself, which seems forever beyond their grasp. Even the word ‘reality’ itself becomes a doubtful construction. One never ‘discovers light’ and as well one never discovers what ‘shadow’ might be. It’s rather that through carefully observing an object which is totally beyond conceptualization, one seems to be able to capture something.
But actually, nothing is ever captured. So why paint? Maybe as a way of acknowledging over an over how little I know, how limited my descriptions are. How even, in the most desperate attempt to capture something it is always fleeting. Art historians make the distinction between supposed ‘abstract’ and ‘representational’ art, but nothing could actually be further from the truth. It is not possible for something to be represented in the first place. That which is supposedly ‘represented’ is by such infinite degrees beyond representation that it’s nonsense to even make that distinction, or at least to take it seriously.
That which is plainly seen in front of us is actually so utterly abstract that it’s nearly unimaginable.