Ten October Leaflets paper, pastel, acrylic, fabric, glass and wood 5 3/4 x 44 1 7/8 inches |
In the habit of collecting autumn leaves, one day I selected the smallest specimens I could find. Seeing comes from being in front of things over and over again. In the routine the unexpected may reveal itself. An oak leaf calls to mind shape and size, but that’s a narrow spectrum when compared with a grove full of oak leaves. Much of my knowledge comes from sights so familiar that they finally grab my attention. That may be why we can easily be fooled. It takes some kind of recognition to realize that the parameters of an argument may not support its position.
My Brother Steve Standing by a 20 Year Old Juniper |
This country has a lot of juniper. An argument states that much of the West was more open than it currently is; juniper invaded grassy lands due to fire suppression. It is unlikely that anywhere there are now vast stands of juniper, that 50 to 100 years ago those areas were mostly open. I live where I can watch them grow, and know the timeline needed to go from seedling to tree simply doesn’t fit the scenario. A 20 year old tree in a field that is regularly watered is not much bigger than a man. Junipers grow slowly and are among the last trees to reseed after fire. A fire on a nearby ridge 17 years ago is still waiting for junipers to show while everything else has taken off. The idea that juniper once burned with a regularity that mirrors that of other kinds of forests isn’t supported by the trees. Large trees mean there hasn’t been any fire in quite a while. Past grasslands described on Bureau of Land Management signs seem to be a ranching theme without a bias for science.
Ten October Leaflets (left end detail) |
The leaves selected are not the leaves I framed. As a matter of fact, I didn’t frame any leaves at all. Drawn to scale, the leaflets stage a way to plausibility. In landscape painting, that situation never arises. No matter how accurately a ridgeline is rendered, it is never mistaken for the real thing because of scale. Although art is always a lie, it is not very good at deception. Basic truth gives it away. We enjoy the con, failing to realize that brushstrokes are nothing but marks and abstraction is considered another thing altogether. Many need to see things in things never realizing that everything is essentially abstract. The leaves are not leaves. Paper framed abstractions stand in for fallen leaves. Here the plausibility of scale buys paper a shelf life of deception.
Ten October Leaflets (center detail) |
I liked the word leaflet; it applies to the tiny side of leaves and pages of information. The leaflets can also be thought of as propaganda for the month of October. Not only are the leaves misleading, the frames are also paper. The shelf is covered in handmade book coverings identifying the individual leaves by number. Within the simplicity of a specimen box, the centered designation of a leaf is the only arrangement that makes any sense. Framing compositionally makes it seem like we can achieve a vision that is not centered. However, there is no way of denying the center; every shift in sight is a new center. We only perceive asymmetry because what we see is based on conditioning. The only way to center or not center a road or the edge of a building is by not seeing the rest of the scenery. Vision does not care where it is positioned; it always sees what is in front of it. Visual significance is just a manifestation of a hierarchy of interests that have nothing to do with sight.
Ten October Leaflets (right end detail) |
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