08.08.2011 ~ being capable of knowing

being capable of knowing
— 24 x 24 inches — mixed media
— copyright Dawn Chandler 2011


There's a peaceful romanticism to this piece. It evolved without a preconceived notion of what I wanted it to be; it just seemed to come together on its own, without much time spent in mental deliberation. Interestingly, it came to resolution much more quickly than several pieces I've been working on that are a fraction of its size. Funny how that works sometimes.

This piece started first with copies of pages from my recent journals, which I glued to the panel surface. I then sealed the pages with clear glue, and then applied washes of acrylic paint over the top. They layer of clear glue between the paper and the paint prevents the paint from sinking in to the paper's surface. The reason I want to prevent that from happening is so that if I don't like the colors laid down, I can wipe them off. Without that layer of glue, the paint embeds into the fibers of the paper and remains permanent.

After applying a little paint, I then started to add fragments of other elements — copies of photos, old collages, printed text — and more layers of paint. With a dip pen — you know, the old fashioned kind with a metal nib that you dip into a bottle of ink — I wrote across the surface of the painting, a free-flowing of thoughts on my mind at the moment.

I so love writing with a dip pen; it connects me — grounds me — in the age-old practice of writing. When taking pen to hand I can't help but reflect on the centuries of writers who came before me and all of the communications they sat down to compose with such an implement in hand. Such a simple pleasure. And of course it's a relieving practice to write down one's thoughts. Therapeutic. Because many of these thoughts written on my paintings are deeply personal, I purposefully obfuscate my handwriting. What secrets lay embedded in my paintings, only I will ever know. And yet, even with cryptic handwriting, the therapy of writing my thoughts into my paintings is even more pronounced than writing simply in a personal journal. Perhaps because there's a feeling of releasing my concerns to the world, even if those thoughts remain ultimately enigmatic to anyone else.

If nothing else, the [largely] illegible hand-written thoughts add mystery to the mood of the piece; the lacy rows of handwriting, a delicacy to the eye.

Below, some details of "being capable of knowing"