In the medieval castle there are these windows that are basically slits (light squeezes through). They are defensive windows. I've visited so many churches lately and found some that have very little electric lighting. In those dim churches you could really get a sense for how the windows work. They are not bright spaces. Actually the paintings in many churches I've visited were barely visible under ambient light. How much detail do you really need to see? I've always found the scrutiny of photography to be really intense, even though it can be useful. Yesterday I saw one of Morandi's paintings and felt relieved that there were no tedious details.
Agnes Martin:
I brought a piece of oily parchment back to the studio a few weeks ago. It was a disposable placemat, the type that is used in so many restaurants around here. When I got back to the studio the following day the paper had disappeared. I assume that a caretaker or cleaner threw it out. It doesn't bother me in the slightest, even though I wanted to include it in my work. I guess this is an inclusion of sorts! I'm not used to working in spaces that have cleaners (although this is a normal institutional thing right?). It's not invisible work.
This article
I've seen so much over the past month. When I was in the Vatican I would glance at a sculpture and it would feel as if the figure were holding a mobile phone instead of sword or whatever else.
It's really vital and important to feel passionately about something, like a moment or person or anything. This is how I think about representation. But these moments are not permanent, as soon as they appear they've almost gone. Extinguished.
