As an exercise, I began making paintings that were a way of trying to understand what Diebenkorn was saying. But this involved 'reining in' along the way, all I had learned from looking at Barnett Newman, Robert Motherwell, Peter Lanyon and others. Painting with Violet Square was one of the first of these paintings. It is a four foot square stretched canvas. An initial thin grey ground was brushed over the surface, using alkyds - fast drying oil paints that give sufficient working time while allowing further layers to be applied fairly quickly. I drew a grid in charcoal on top of this ground, which provided a kind of game-board for subsequent moves. Connections with the game of chess became increasingly apparent as this painting and the series unfolded. The grid provided certain parameters in terms of the shape, size, orientation and positioning of visual elements. It also provided a means of re-connection with the starting point (the square of the canvas). It slowed down the process, and helped me to follow the way the piece unfolded, from simple beginnings, through increasing complexity to resolution. The relationship between part and whole was clear - individual parts served the bigger picture in an unequivocal way. This helped to avoid getting bogged down in the details, over-working, and getting too attached to the 'particular' or the 'incidental'. At any given stage, it was as important not to concern myself with what was not important, as it was to address what was important.
But how is it possible to know what is important and what is necessary? I have found that one of the central difficulties is that of seeing what is going on in the painting at any given stage. Sometimes it shows you what it needs, or poses the question, what if, this colour, or that shape? - like one note calling for another in musical harmony. So every part needs to remain open to the possibility of adjustment and change. Ultimately the only way of knowing is by finding out what works, by trying something, and that is where the physical act of painting, and the medium itself comes into play - which brush, how liquid should the paint be, how much pressure, what movement, which direction, when to pause? Then there is the need to evaluate the results - what has changed, what difference has it made, what am I looking for? Generally I don't know what I'm looking for, but I can try to be as discerning as possible - it is easier to know what I don't want. It's useful to accept from the word go that nothing is 'true', so it's all about the degree of error, and the continual process of adjustment and re-orientation, in a direction that appears fruitful.
The painting is 'finished' when every part is active and contributes in a specific way in relation to the overall statement. The painting must work as a whole. Multiple readings are nevertheless usually inherent within the piece, while one or more configurations or motifs may call for resolution. It's difficult to be objective, and honest about the result, because the temptation to see what I want to see, and to go for a quick and easy solution is very strong. A period of work will often begin with a feeling of optimism, only to end with a sense of disappointment. It is only through returning to the piece, repeatedly, with a willingness to see it as it is, that the process can continue. This will usually mean that something has to be given up - without any assurance as to what will take its place.
In Painting with Violet Square surrounding motifs seem to attend to the space in which the violet-blue form appears. The ochre horizontal elements below this form can be seen to act as some kind of 'break-through'. The charcoal drawing in Painting with Black X reveals clearly the process of construction and de-construction that forms part of the workings of the piece. Their fleeting presence contrasts with emblematic 'stamp' of the cross motif. One of the things that interests me about the cross is that it can draw attention to a particular place while at the same time saying 'not here'. I painted Painting with Blue Z while I was artist in residence at the Slade Summer School. I remember experiencing great difficulty working through the grid, as if trying to shake loose from it. Eventually a way through was found via the fluidity of the pale green forms and the resolution of the Z motif. Painting with Void and White Forms presents strong contrasting elements. The left hand void is dark, distant and 'thin', while the white forms - unpainted primed canvas - appear heavy and solid. Many of the linear elements in this piece consist of double lines or bands - in later pieces cut strips of paper are used in a similar way. This piece has hung in our sitting room for a number of years; my wife and I have noticed strong connections while listening to the music of John Tavener. The central vertical axis and horizontal 'arms' suggest an entity about or from which strong movements emanate or pass through. The pink form could be seen as a warmer, more fluid 'resurrection' of the white form below. Painting with White Form was completed in St Ives in Cornwall, while running a course for students at the St Ives School of Painting. Most elements were drawn from the surrounding landscape - sand, sea and sky, the harbour wall, a temporary green fence erected as part of works to improve the sewerage system, and the white form of the new Tate Gallery. The latter is represented by the striking relationship the central white configuration has with the space around it. None of the elements of the landscape are represented literally, but are used in a constructional way - for the painting to work it has to operate in its one terms.