Artspace, a gallery space in downtown Shreveport, currently has an exhibit called Pop!, which celebrates the 50th anniversary of Bubble Wrap. *That's Bubble Wrap with capital B and W (it's trademarked, just so you know). I applaud the curators for taking on such a whimsical exhibit and coming out with a few really great pieces. There was no photography allowed, so sorry for the lack of images in this post. Fortunately my favorite work is featured on the artspace site, though.
My favorite "painting" (I use quotes because the work is not your typical painting) is by Marshall Dines.
Do you see why this is so amazing? Most of us shamelessly can't resist popping a bubble as soon as we get our hands on a fresh sheet of Bubble Wrap; Dines, on the other hand, has the patience and ingenuity to fill each bubble with acrylic paint. Every single bubble. Wow.
Now I immediately have to draw the comparison between Dines' work and that of American photorealist painter Chuck Close.
Now I immediately have to draw the comparison between Dines' work and that of American photorealist painter Chuck Close.
I once watched a documentary about Close that showed him painting one of these large portraits. Lately I've been fascinated by the way the eyes work to make out familiar shapes and objects. These two paintings are great studies of that. If you think about it, both of these works are nothing but hundreds of small squares and circles appropriately shaded and arranged to form a discernible image. Look closely at the works and the images lose their meanings; faces become arrangements of pinks and creams (and in Close's case, oddball colors like blues and greens in amoeba-like forms). But to be able to step back and see how every single dot plays a part in a larger meaning ("the bigger picture" literally) is a completely different experience. And for that, I'm in awe.
And here's just one of the million of reasons I love art. Good art, like a good story, teaches us something. It doesn't necessarily hit you over the head with a moral (actually, I prefer when it doesn't), but it makes you think and it makes you leave with a new thought, a new outlook or even a new appreciation.
To me, these two paintings remind me of how I lack the ability to see the bigger picture on a day-to-day basis. As much as I like to think I know how every event or decision fits into my final "portrait," I don't. One day I'm a bubble of cream, the next a bubble of red. I get frustrated along the way because I don't see how the two fit together, but little do I know it's all for the sake of a clear picture.
And here's just one of the million of reasons I love art. Good art, like a good story, teaches us something. It doesn't necessarily hit you over the head with a moral (actually, I prefer when it doesn't), but it makes you think and it makes you leave with a new thought, a new outlook or even a new appreciation.
To me, these two paintings remind me of how I lack the ability to see the bigger picture on a day-to-day basis. As much as I like to think I know how every event or decision fits into my final "portrait," I don't. One day I'm a bubble of cream, the next a bubble of red. I get frustrated along the way because I don't see how the two fit together, but little do I know it's all for the sake of a clear picture.