Juxtapose [on DR Thursday]

Our meeting seemed destined. I’d just moved into my apartment in Seattle on Queen Anne hill. It was a beautiful sunny morning and I decided to explore the neighborhood so I walked down the hill to The Seattle Center. I laughed when I saw a sign for a theatre conference so I went in the Intiman Theatre to check it out. There was an open seat. I sat down next to David. He was the first person I met in my new town. We’ve been fast friends ever since.

Although we’ve had few shared projects, he is among my most prized artistic wise-eyes. If I want an honest opinion about one of my pieces, he’s among the top of my go-to list. If I need some fresh air blown into my muddled brain, some playfulness infused in my too-serious-process, there is no one better to call.

One night, early in our friendship, we did a painting together. We tossed three pieces of masonite onto the floor; we started painting on opposite sides and worked to meet in the center. It was a riot of fun. It was an exercise in juxtaposition. My-action-inspires-your-action. Artistic call-and-response.

I’ve kept those three pieces of masonite these many years. Occasionally over the years, I remove the protective wrap and reassemble the pieces on the floor. I snap a photo and send it to David. “Do you remember this?”

Juxtaposition. Proximity of color-to-color, image-to-image. Comparison and contrast. It is how color works. Ask Seurat. It is the essence of painting. How purple illuminates green. It is the essence of artist community. Artists elevate the work of their peers. Inspiration is a blossom of proximity. Collaboration. How does my work inflect upon the story of yours?

Diversity of color. Diversity of approach. Diversity of perspective. It is how healthy community works – artistic or otherwise. Uniformity spells the death of progress, the end of invention and creativity.

The cold rainy weather broke and the sun emerged. Finally. We walked our trail. We soaked up the sun. She gasped, let go of my hand and raced away. I know that means a photo op has been spied. “Don’t you love this!” she exclaimed, pointing to the budding crimson flower against the coarse wood. “They are so beautiful together!”

david & david, acrylic on masonite. fun on board

read Kerri’s blogpost about TRILLIUM

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Contrast [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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It is the ultimate cliche’: we only know light because of dark. 20 calls this the contrast principle. Images juxtaposed illuminate. It’s how stories are told in film. Once. Upon. A. Time. It is how images pop off the canvas, blue next to orange, green meets purple. Contrast makes the eye move. Contrast makes shapes emerge. Movement has no meaning without stillness.

It’s relative. Related. Relationship. Without relativity, without contrast, nothing makes sense. Or, more to the point, nothing is sensed. Difference, in fact, is the secret sauce necessary for knowing anything. Category. Class. Classification. Group. What is like what? What is related? What is unrelated? Cubicle. Caste. Lines on a map.

Contrast can be wielded like a sword. They are not us. Division.

Or, contrast can be used to unify. A crossroads of diverse perspectives, innovation.

Nature is dynamic at its edges. Water meets beach. Earth meets water. Air breathes fire. Hot meets cold. Convection current. Contrast. Changing energies. Creative movement.

Kerri stopped during our walk. “Look!” she exclaimed. Her eye was drawn to the lone daisy in the midst of the sea of black-eyed susans. “Beautiful,” she whispered as she approached with her camera. “Look at the contrast.”

So similar. So different. Yellow meets white. Black meets yellow.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about CONTRAST

 

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daisy in the black-eyed susans ©️ 2019 kerri sherwood