Before I Begin
Looking, gathering, noticing.
A sketchbook, a few marks, something gathered from the garden.
“Before a painting begins, there is usually a period of looking.”
Before a painting begins, there is usually a period of looking.
I look at what is around me — the changing light in the studio, a shape in a leaf, the mark left by a stem, the surface of a piece of paper, something that catches my attention and refuses to disappear.
I gather things: leaves, fragments, impressions, pieces of paper, textures, colours. Some are carried into the studio deliberately; others seem to find their way into the work almost by accident. I don't always know what they will become.
“I gather things.”
Botanical impressions and raw pigment trials on paper
Mark-making with found flora and organic stains
Studio working desk, sketchbook accumulation
Layered studies exploring threshold of memory
Sometimes I begin by drawing. Sometimes by making an impression. Sometimes by placing one material against another and waiting to see what happens.
The first mark is not necessarily the beginning. There is already a history in the surface — in the paper, in the material, in what I have noticed before I begin. I am interested in this space before the image becomes clear.
The looking. The gathering. The waiting.
“The first mark is not necessarily the beginning.”
This note references external publications and documentation.