Occlusions

Vermeer and Cezanne

When we see each other in our ordinary day to day life, there’s never any doubt that the world, the background, continues behind us: I may not be able to see what is directly behind you, but I feel certain that something’s there. With Vermeer’s painting, Girl with a Pearl Earring, the background resists being seen as deep, and seems to end where the figure begins. There is little suggestion that she stands in a three dimensional space, a virtual box, even though she appears quite three dimensional herself. The girl doesn’t exist in a room, she exists in a painting and this is a bit uncanny – a three-dimensional being living in a two dimensional space. I think this is because of the edges; the edge of her face just drops away, leaving a crack of infinite depth between her and her world. This may be because of an after image, of visual fatigue moving from bright to dark. I don’t remember, it’s been a while since I’ve seen it. It really works though, if you get the chance to see it in the flesh.

Cezanne’s blue/black edging to fruit does something similar, although it is not as peculiar as Vermeer. Cezanne’s fruit are also not as convincingly rounded as the Vermeer, so the pears more easily subside into the painting: It is the colour dynamics of the blue/black edges (they are receding colours) that suggest the roundness of the pears, but it is only a suggestion, a visual warp. Cezanne is forcing something that reads as flat to bend in on its edges, using colour dynamics to push through the picture plane and virtually curve the surface of the pears. Vermeer’s painting on the other hand is, and looks like, a physical abutment of figure and ground.

We seem to be natural Kantians: Our perception delivers a package of three dimensional space along with time, which is the persistence of things whether or not they are currently visible. To help with that definition, think of your understanding of your self, and if you believe in a continuous self that was equally present in all the past moments found in your memory, then that is what time is.

These habits are carried over to our experience of two dimensional images unless someone like Cezanne or Vermeer makes it slightly effortful to find colour dynamics convincing. When we see an object, it induces the presumption of occluded things, those things we would expect to see if the initial object weren’t there. Thus with seeing, there is also a concealing, and it seems as if for full clarity, these two painters have placed their objects more beside their environment than within. That way nothing is hidden.

Over the years I have made a number of pieces that seem to worry about this state of affairs. As a student at the Ontario College of Art in the 1970’s I made a solid three foot cube of scrap wood from dismantled old pallets, and then nailed galvanized steel to the top and two adjacent sides. The materials were easily obtained in the large vacant lot on the East side of McCaul across the street from the College (it’s certainly not a vacant lot anymore). Crates, pallets, and weathered sheet metal were all there in abundance, it was the cheapest art supply store in town. When I finished the sculpture, I couldn’t move it, and even if I had been able to, I had no place to keep it. So I left it there in the Brinks Building annex for the summer. In the Fall it was gone, and with a touch of embarrassment I thought of the custodial staff entering the Experimental Arts area, seeing this thing, defenceless except for its bulk and saying, “This is going to take all day.” Fair enough, it took me months to make.

I deeply regret I didn’t photograph it, to the point that from time to time, even 50 years later, I sometimes contemplate making it again. I still like the thought of it. It concealed and revealed, but never entirely because there always remained a reasonable doubt that it wasn’t solid, and instead it could have been an awkward, leaky box. And with that thought the epistemological equivalence of the sheet metal and the surface of the wood became undeniable to me. Objects never tell us anything, they just get in the way.

The K8N Collective

I’m a member of a three-person art collective called K8N along with Elizabeth Fearon and Rupen. We have a show at the Parrott Gallery in Belleville January 13 to February 14, 2024. Here are a couple of installation shots. Steve Armstrong.

Let’s Make it a Good One

This came out when I was in high school. That’s when I was a Communist, Feminist, Atheist, Black Panther and Viet Cong sympathizer, as well as a dadaist inspired by Hans Richter’s book Art and Anti-Art found in my school library. If I had had the money, I probably would’ve also been a Volvo-driving, sushi-eating, urban liberal, as I was so aptly called by proxy in a Republican election ad during, I think, the GW Bush era. It’s a good call actually, I’ll give ‘em that. I was most certainly a Salon Radical fueled with adolescent morality, someone who matured into a downtown “creative”.

And also a good call by Ramparts: the slippage of wealth to the rich and away from the rest of us began with Nixon and the surreptitious erosion of The New Deal. But I do have some quibbling about the project’s completion dates – I think 1984 has taken longer than Wells expected. It’s 2024 that looks more like a realistic approach to a full dystopia.

But this isn’t about Orwell’s 1984, or even Huxley’s Brave New World. It’s about Politics and the English Language, a 1946 essay by H. G. Wells. Its advice is important right now:

In our time, political speech and writing are largely the defence of the indefensible. Things like the continuance of British rule in India, the Russian purges and deportations, the dropping of the atom bombs on Japan, can indeed be defended, but only by arguments which are too brutal for most people to face, and which do not square with the professed aims of political parties. Thus political language has to consist largely of euphemism, question-begging, and sheer cloudy vagueness. Defenceless villages are bombarded from the air, the inhabitants driven out into the countryside, the cattle machine-gunned, the huts set on fire with incendiary bullets: this is called pacification. Millions of peasants are robbed of their farms and sent trudging along roads with no more than they can carry: this is called transfer of population or rectification of frontiers. People are imprisoned for years without trial, or shot in the back of the neck or sent to die of scurvy in Arctic lumber camps: this is called elimination of unreliable elements. Such phraseolgy is needed if one wants to name things without calling up mental pictures of them. Consider for instance some comfortable English professor defending Russian totalitarianism. He cannot say outright, “I believe in killing off your opponents when you get good results by doing so”. Probably, therefore, he will say something like this:

While freely conceding that the Soviet regime exhibits certain features which the humanitarian may be inclined to deplore, we must, I think, agree that a certain curtailment of the right to political opposition is an unavoidable concomitant of transitional periods, and that the rigours which the Russian people have been called upon to undergo have been amply justified in the sphere of concrete achievement.

The inflated style is itself a kind of euphemism. A mass of Latin words falls upon the facts like soft snow, blurring the outlines and covering up all the details. The great enemy of clear language is insincerity. When there is a gap between one’s real and one’s declared aims, one turns as it were instinctively to long words and exhausted idioms, like a cuttlefish squirting out ink. In our age there is no such thing as “keeping out of politics”. All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia. When the general atmosphere is bad, language must suffer.

Wells sarcastically shows us the dangers of avoiding the hard work of clarifying your ideas, and instead relying on often-used metaphors. Both writers and readers will suffer on this account:

“But you are not obliged to go to all this trouble. You can shirk it by simply throwing your mind open and letting the ready-made phrases come crowding in. They will construct your sentences for you, think your thoughts for you to a certain extent, and at need, they will perform the important service of partially concealing your meaning even from yourself. It is at this point that the special connection between politics and the debasement or language becomes clear.”

A very merry Christmas / And a happy New Year / Let’s hope it’s a good one / Without any fear

There’s more at https://wegway.substack.com/p/the-artists-high-and-the-click and http://wegway.ca/

Sources

H. G. Wells, “Politics and the English Language” in The Collected Essays , Journalism and Letters of George Orwell, Vol. 4, (Sonia Orwell and Ian Angos eds), (New York : Harcourt , Brace , Javanovich, 1968), pp 136-7.

So This Is Christmas, John Lennon.

Ramparts cover, November 17, 1968, pulled from my shelf (I don’t throw much away).

My False Biography

A Large Language Model (LLM) annotated

Wegway 4, Fall 2002, Cover by Agnes Denes

First published on wegway.substack.com August 4th 2023

A couple of weeks ago I asked ChatGPT to tell me all about me. I used version 3.5 (July 20, 2023) from openai.com. To me it reads like a student essay that is padded because of inadequate research, but more interesting, it appears to have intention.

I am pretty sure that’s projection on my part. After all, I have many years of reading things that were written by human beings, and they invariably did have intention. It seems highly unlikely that a LLM is immersed in a social context like a human being. It doesn’t want to do a good job, it doesn’t want to fit in, it doesn’t want to please me, it doesn’t want to be my friend, it doesn’t want anything. So the big question is, “What are the dangers of an LLM that apparently flatters me, an almost-famous Canadian artist?”

The LLM response is completely unedited except I changed it to Canadian spelling to make it easier on my eyes. This is a second iteration because the first response was almost entirely fictional. I don’t know why it became less fictional on the second pass but someone probably does. I think the results are interesting enough to share.

write a biography of Stephen Eric (Steve) Armstrong, Canadian artist and publisher of Wegway in under 2000 words

Stephen Eric Armstrong, known by his friends and colleagues as Steve (True), is a renowned Canadian artist and the visionary publisher behind Wegway, an influential art publication (Very, very exaggerated). Born on June 12, 1965 (False), in Toronto, Canada (True), Armstrong displayed a profound passion for art from a young age (True). His journey as an artist and publisher has been marked by innovation, a commitment to showcasing emerging talent, and a deep appreciation for the power of art to inspire and transform (True, but embarassingly fancy).

Growing up in a culturally vibrant city like Toronto, Armstrong was exposed to a diverse range of artistic expressions (True but somewhat exaggerated when considering Toronto in the 1950s and 60s). He developed an early interest in visual arts, often spending hours sketching and painting (True). Recognizing his talent and enthusiasm, his parents encouraged him to explore his creative potential and enrolled him in art classes at a local community centre (Close enough).

After completing his formal education, Armstrong decided to pursue his passion for art full-time (True as long as you don’t mention my job is a railroader to make ends meet). He immersed himself in the local art scene, attending exhibitions, participating in workshops, and engaging in conversations with established artists. This exposure not only broadened his artistic perspective but also provided him with a network of fellow artists who would later become his collaborators (I’d call that sufficiently true).

In the late 1980s, Armstrong’s artistic journey took a significant turn when he founded Wegway, an avant-garde art publication (True but make it 1995 instead of the 1980’s). With an unwavering belief in the transformative power of art and a desire to showcase emerging talent, Armstrong sought to create a platform that would challenge conventional norms and offer a fresh perspective on contemporary art (I’ll buy that but “transformative” seems a bit too optimistic).

Wegway quickly gained recognition for its bold and unconventional approach to art publishing (True if you don’t ask too many questions about the number of recognizers). Armstrong’s editorial vision was rooted in his commitment to authenticity and the exploration of the human experience (True if you believe flattery). The publication featured thought-provoking articles, interviews with artists, critical reviews (False, there were no reviews), and stunning visual portfolios, becoming a catalyst for artistic dialogue and discovery (True, but “stunning” would be better suited to advertising copy).

Under Armstrong’s leadership, Wegway became known for its commitment to promoting diverse voices in the art world (I did my best, it could’ve been a lot better). The publication actively sought out artists from underrepresented communities, championing their work and providing them with a platform to share their unique perspectives (True, but if I found something personally interesting, that criterion would outrank concerns about under-representation. A magazine’s greatest sin is to be boring). This inclusive approach not only enriched the publication but also contributed to a more diverse and inclusive art scene in Canada (True, but interesting, and surprising, were much more compelling qualities than diversity. The content was a victim of my personal interests. The contributors were diverse, but that’s because they were interesting and surprising to me. My hierarchy of selection criteria took no account of virtue signalling).

Armstrong’s artistic style evolved alongside his role as a publisher. He explored various mediums, including painting, sculpture, and mixed media (True), and his works often reflected themes of identity, social justice, and the human condition (I have to call False on that one. My work mostly concerns issues of perception and epistemology). His ability to convey complex emotions through visual storytelling captivated audiences and earned him critical acclaim (That is very false, unless, of course, by “emotions” and “storytelling” you mean searching for new ways of seeing. Unfortunately, my fragile sense of my personal value is quite capable of accepting flattery even when it’s tangental. And the critical acclaim was meagre).

As Wegway continued to flourish (“Flourish” is a strong word), Armstrong embarked on collaborative projects with fellow artists and creatives (True, if the collaboration part was just a matter of me publishing it). He curated groundbreaking exhibitions that challenged traditional gallery spaces (True, if juried, group, fundraiser exhibitions were challenging anything) and brought art into unconventional settings, such as abandoned warehouses and public parks (False). These exhibitions became immersive experiences that blurred the lines between art and daily life (False), inviting viewers to engage with the artwork on a deeper, more personal level (That would be nice).

Beyond his contributions to the art world, Armstrong is known for his philanthropic endeavours (I give money to the food bank and have volunteered in soup kitchens, but I’d be hard-pressed to call that philanthropy). He has consistently used his platform to raise awareness and support for various social causes, including mental health, environmental conservation, and arts education (I would say that’s pretty much 100% False, which makes me feel a bit like a cad). He has organized charity auctions (Nope), donated artwork (Yup), and collaborated with nonprofit organizations to create meaningful art-based initiatives (Nope).

Today, Steve Armstrong’s impact as an artist and publisher is felt both within Canada and beyond (False, any small impact I might’ve had most certainly faded away prior to 2010). His commitment to pushing boundaries, amplifying marginalized voices, and using art as a catalyst for change has earned him a place of honour among his peers (Risible). Whether through his captivating artwork or his visionary leadership at Wegway, Armstrong continues to inspire and challenge the art world, leaving an indelible mark on the cultural landscape (That remains to be seen).

Describe the magazine Wegway Primary Culture

ChatGPT

Wegway Primary Culture, a dynamic magazine founded by Stephen Eric Armstrong, known as Steve Armstrong, is a groundbreaking publication that showcases the intersection of art, culture, and human experience (I like to think it was). With an innovative approach to publishing (A magazine of artists’ projects), Wegway Primary Culture has emerged as a catalyst for artistic exploration and critical discourse (That also would’ve been nice), pushing the boundaries of traditional art magazines.

One of the defining features of Wegway Primary Culture is its emphasis on primary sources. Armstrong’s vision was to create a magazine that provides direct access to the voices and perspectives of artists, writers, and cultural figures. Through in-depth interviews, personal essays, and firsthand accounts, the magazine seeks to capture the essence of the creative process and the ideas that drive cultural movements (I actually like that and I wonder whether it accessed wegway.com through something like The Wayback Machine https://web.archive.org/ – I stupidly lost control of that URL, it’s currently held for ransom. This information is not available on the current website wegway.ca. Conversly, the LLM may have just riffed on the magazine’s tag line, Primary Culture).

Wegway Primary Culture offers a diverse range of content, reflecting its commitment to inclusivity and the amplification of underrepresented voices (I actually like that too). The magazine features profiles of (Not profiles of, but rather projects by) emerging and established artists, showcasing their work and providing insights into their artistic journeys. It also delves into a wide array of cultural topics, exploring themes such as identity, social justice, environmentalism, and technology’s impact on society (No quibbles worth mentioning).

The visual aspect of Wegway Primary Culture is equally captivating. The magazine showcases vibrant and thought-provoking artwork, photography, and illustrations, often (Semi-false, not often, but always) created by the featured artists themselves. This visual narrative adds another layer of depth to the magazine, inviting readers to engage with the art and immerse themselves in the creative world being portrayed (Close enough, but I hate the word “portrayed” in this context).

Wegway Primary Culture goes beyond the confines of traditional art magazines by bridging the gap between the artistic and literary worlds. It features compelling essays, critical reviews (No reviews it’s always primary), and cultural commentary that delve into the significance of art within broader societal contexts. By intertwining artistic expression with intellectual discourse, the magazine encourages readers to contemplate the profound connections between art, culture, and the human experience (That is a good summary of my intentions and I hope it was true).

In line with Armstrong’s belief in the transformative power of art, Wegway Primary Culture actively engages with its readership. The magazine encourages dialogue and interaction through letters to the editor, reader submissions, and online forums (No online forums, those things mostly didn’t exist at the time although I did follow a few chat rooms and bulletin boards that introduced me to new contributors. This was the dial-up era with Netscape Navigator). This inclusive approach fosters a sense of community and collaboration, allowing readers to contribute to the ongoing conversations and shape the direction of the magazine (True, there were occasions when letters to the Editor were more substantial than a lot of the other content).

Wegway Primary Culture has also embraced digital platforms to expand its reach and connect with a global audience. Through its website and social media channels (Those channels were minimal at the time), the magazine shares exclusive content, behind-the-scenes glimpses, and updates on exhibitions and cultural events (False, there were no updates or announcements. Everything was in the present tense). This digital presence ensures that the magazine remains accessible to a wide range of readers, transcending geographical boundaries and facilitating engagement with diverse perspectives (Sure, but it sounds awfully grand).

Ultimately, Wegway Primary Culture serves as a vibrant and thought-provoking space where art, culture, and human experiences converge (This pointless sentence smells bad). Through its commitment to primary sources, inclusivity, and intellectual discourse, the magazine celebrates the power of creativity to shape and transform society. Guided by Steve Armstrong’s visionary leadership, Wegway Primary Culture continues to inspire and challenge readers, fostering a deeper appreciation for the art and cultural landscape of our time (It’s wonderful to be a “visionary” and Wegway might continue to inspire and challenge readers except it’s defunct).

Free Research Preview. ChatGPT may produce inaccurate information about people, places, or facts. ChatGPT July 20 Version

ChatGPT

Post Script

I tried out the WordPress AI Assistant and it busted ChatGPT 3.5 for possible inaccuracies. Things change quickly.

This blog is moving

Greetings, I have moved my writing to wegway.substack.com

I really hope you will follow me there. It would be great to see you again.

Here’s an example of a recent post, Minimalism and Toilet Paper:

https://open.substack.com/pub/wegway/p/minimalism-and-toilet-paper?r=t02ia&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web

Wegway Covers

Here are cover images from my magazine that was published from 1999 to 2005.

K8N Gallery

I contributed 12 acrylic on plywood paintings as my part of a group show at the K8N Gallery in September 2016. They are shaped like black silhouettes of a cube, but  become virtual cubes with the addition of just the slightest hint at the point that would be their interior apex. These hints are white letters and symbols made by pressing IBM typewriter balls into the dried black paint and filling the indentations with white paint.

The black paint looks very substantial, but it is not painterly. I sanded out any indications of brushwork or drips to eliminate that trope. I don’t doubt that someone will, or perhaps has, found a new role for painterliness, but in this case, it would make reading these works unnecessarily complicated. It is only necessary that the paint has a material presence that can compete with the virtual depth caused by the colour. Opposing tendencies are held in suspension, push-pull*, in and out, surface and image. For me, that delicate balance encourages an awareness of the perception itself, the seeing of a cube.

 

 

*Push-pull is a term Hans Hofmann used to refer to colour dynamics, blue for instance tends to recede, and yellow tends to come forward. These factors need to be borne in mind when working with figure/ground relations.

Ledger Paintings

I find fancy art supplies intimidating. Cadmium red is expensive, and a thoroughly prepared panel or canvas requires an investment in time as well as money. I hate waste, so when I paint I risk trying too hard and I know concerns like that can lead to failure.

Writing also requires a time investment but any money involved is usually negligible. Let’s make painting and writing more analogous and suppose that for every one hundred words you wish to save or send, you have to pay one dollar. I believe this modest one cent a word fee would be a factor to a greater or lesser degree for everyone, except perhaps for the wealthy, reckless, or highly motivated. I am not usually those kinds of person.

Prose written under these circumstances would be endangered: It could wind up purple, or condensed to white. When every word costs, you’d better make all of them either splendid or efficient. We all want to do our best, but I need to be aware of external circumstances that adversely affect my judgement.

I didn’t fully realize I found fancy art supplies intimidating until I was cleaning out a closet and discovered an old account ledger book. The pages were very appealing and because of that, the last few months have been productive – free, casual, and loose – not my typical way of doing things.

 

All I needed was some paper worthy of recycling and a free save button to share it.

Wegway Television is now on YouTube

I haven’t posted anything in quite some time – been busy with other things.

One of those things is Wegway Television. And even though it seems a bit awkwardly misplaced to promote it here, as I consider this blog to be mostly about finding ways to write about art, I’m going to promote it anyway. This is a whole new thing for me, and it’s fun.

Wegway Television interviews visual artists in a single take. This gives the artists the opportunity to talk about their work in an unstructured way without concerns about context. In Episode 1, Elizabeth Fearon and Steve Armstrong join Jennifer Linton for an in-depth discussion of her work – a combination of drawing, print making, animation and installation. Her current project is Toronto Alice. http://www.jenniferlinton.com

The people behind Wegway Television

Steve Armstrong is a visual artist, writer, and magazine Editor/Publisher formerly based in Toronto, but now living in Belleville Ontario. He is a graduate of the Ontario College of Art (AOCA) and has an undergraduate degree in philosophy from the University of Toronto. He has been exhibiting in Canada and internationally since 1977. His blog, Wegway and the Institute for the Separation of Theory from Practice, is the very thing you are reading right now. His magazine, Wegway Primary Culture is presently in deep hibernation and its somewhat moribund website can be found at wegway.com.

Elizabeth Fearon was born in Toronto, Canada, in 1970. Her formal art education has included a BFA from York University (1995) and a Post Graduate Diploma in Post Production from Humber College (2002). Fearon’s work has been realized through many media over the years, most recently through video, multiples, and installation. Conceptually, Fearon is very interested in the role of the individual as a member of society.

Her work has been shown in many galleries and festivals, including A Space (Toronto, Canada), The Seoul Museum of Art (Seoul, South Korea), MOT Gallery (London, England), Video Pool (Winnipeg, Canada), The Natural Light Window (Toronto, Canada), and 25hrs (Barcelona, Spain).

Fearon has also spoken publicly about her work in a variety of venues, including The Alberta College of Art and Design, BUS Gallery, and Vtape.

Through both professional and personal experiences, Fearon hopes to continue her exploration of the things that make us unique spirits in a complex, confusing world. 

www.elizabethfearon.com,  www.ccca.ca

The Descent of Geometry

Steve Armstrong, The Descent of Geometry, oil, brass and fibreglass resin on particle board, 50″ x 50″, 1981-85.

Metaphorical thinking is like using a funnel the wrong way round.

It’s time for a third voice to consider the issues raised in Self Expression and Conceptual Painting and Repressed Anger. The former was a sincere attempt to understand beauty, the latter, an attempt to apply raw self-analysis to my understanding of art. Lately, I’ve been studying Hunter S. Thompson to get an angle on his amazing talent for digression and hyperbole. Then I thought, what if this technique were directed inwards instead of out. But enough of that, down to business:

I have a friend who is an art critic and in a newspaper review around 2001 he used the term ‘conceptual painting’. I coined this term in the title of a painting in 1999, and no doubt, it would have been part of our occasional conversations. I then used the idea, but not the term itself, in a review published in Lola magazine in 2000.

This is all extremely unimportant, especially since my friend used the term to refer to a different idea altogether, but it has revealed something relevant about my character: I had a very strong compulsion to write this because I hope that the term “conceptual painting” might catch on, and if someone else received credit for it, I would feel a sense of loss. This is somewhat ridiculous of course: Was I going to miss out on sex, money, and power perhaps, not to mention the high life on the lecture circuit? No, what I want is credit, respect or even congratulations. This is probably why a discussion of conceptual painting showed up in my first blog post.

I have to wonder why these things matter to me. I remember reading about the conflict between Richard Huelsenbeck and Tristan Tzara over the provenance of the word “dada” and thinking as I read, “this dispute is of no importance, I don’t know them and they don’t know me, they are no more than words on a page, and even if I were acquainted with them, it still wouldn’t make much difference and it would, in fact, only be a problem if I wanted to stay on friendly terms with both of them”. Besides that, they’re dead. I am sure that Huelsenbeck and Tzara experienced righteous anger over their issue, and that is unfortunate. Fame creates resentful new wounds.

What is important is what is done, not who did it. Why should I care about what a bunch of people I have never met, and might never meet, think of some deed I allegedly performed? Since Shakespeare’s not around to enjoy the recognition, why does it matter who wrote those plays? Although there would be a reason for Shakespeare and me to demand recognition if we were in it for the money. And naturally enough, that has been a component for both of us, but not a terribly important one, because he’s dead and can’t collect, and I’ve always had a good day job. As I wrote in 1995, if we face the facts, “we would tell the world that its money belongs in hell. If art is real, then it is serious.”

It should be obvious that we only desire credit for a deed when it is not sufficiently satisfying simply as a deed done. But this becomes less obvious once the euphoria from viewing a completed work starts to fade – when the cash gets scarce, the cheaper wines look better. The Descent of Geometry was fully satisfying as a deed done for almost fifteen years, then the desire to justify and explain it crept in, as evidenced by my writings from around 1999. Those writings have been edited and incorporated in these three related posts.

Ockham’s Razor would guide us to the explanation with the fewest assumed entities but Armstrong’s Bin provides us with the most flattering explanation for anything that puzzles us. Schopenhauer knows why this would be the case – he said that self-interest is the strongest argument, and I’m sure he said this because he had a great sense of humour. The Bin tells me that my painting demands a beautiful aetiology, and most people who see it, seem fond of it, so I guess I could do worse than load it up with meaning. I’m going to indulge myself.

From 1981 until 1985 I occasionally worked on this very stubborn painting. When I felt reasonably satisfied with it (that being the point when I realized that anything else I did would only make it worse), I signed the back and wrote, “Beyond Böcklin’s Island: an arbitrary geometry seeking a meaning in Romance while Franz Schubert has the poignancy of death”. Shortly afterwards this title embarrassed me. I crossed it out and wrote, “The Descent of Geometry”.

 Arnold Böcklin, Isle of the Dead, third version (of many), oil on wood, 150 x 80 cm, 1883.

I have noticed a particular trope that has turned up regularly in my work. I have frequently made illusory space on a celestial scale and then interrupted the picture plane and made it difficult to see coherently. I have done this by adding bits of metal, drilling holes, working on peg- board, adding painted shapes to pencil drawings, or by other means that force a difficulty into the act of coherent perception.

For example, a small piece of brass in a painted sky has to be unseen as an extraneous thing for the painting to become a picture of an odd flying object. The geometrical object in the Descent is made of brass strips arranged like cloisonné. It’s fun to un-see things, it’s a childish and playful thing to do like imaginatively turning your bedroom ceiling into an ocean with the ceiling fixture as a strange boat. I’ve done that.

That’s what we do with all pictures anyway, although we are mostly unaware of doing it. We studiously overlook the means of image delivery in magazines films and photographs to get straight to the picture. I hesitate to mention paintings as well, because as a painter, I never overlook the means, I look for the means. I have done this to the extent that, on occasion, I haven’t noticed the picture, and instead, merely seen the painting. It’s startling to suddenly notice the picture.

Steve Armstrong, A Small Redemption of the Machine Age, acrylic on pegboard, 40″ x 52″, 1993.

I think facts are poetic, and it’s facts, much more so than pictures, that are there to be seen in paintings – especially straightforward, non-conceptual paintings. A painting is like a new spoon triumphantly raising vegetables to the surface of your soup. It is a shroud of conviction, a moist daubing that brings relief, and a television carved from a single block of wood. When you get by the technical stuff (the professional looking that a painter engages in), the leftovers are metaphorical.

In The Descent, the brass insert is the emissary of science that emerges as our savior from Romantic darkness – this grandiose affair depicts the story of Modernism. Science and technology have pushed past all the protests of a Luddite Romanticism.

The Descent of Geometry offers mythological events to explain the origins of science envy in Modernism. There are scientific airs in various Modernist practices – Impressionism with its theories of perception (a defensive posture against photography), Surrealism with its thoughts on intentionality and coincidence versus cause, or Minimalism and Earthworks with their musings about ontology and an Industrial Sublime. The idea of an Avant-garde itself, holds the concept of progress.

Vladimir Tatlin, model for Monument to the Third International, 1919.

I’m left with the feeling that Modernism carried aspects of Romanticism with it into the Twentieth Century. Modernism has a streak of the Romantic “Sublime” through it, although it had become industrial and technological. The Eiffel Tower and its child, Tatlin’s Monument to the Third International, Malevich’s White Square, Smithson’s Spiral Jetty, and countless other things all attest to this fact. Baudelaire for instance, preferred harbours over natural coastlines. I understand this feeling. In spite of Böcklin, Turner’s steam engines haven’t been shaken off.

J. M. W. Turner, Rain, Steam, Speed, oil on Canvas, 90.8 x 121.9 cm., 1844. National Gallery, London

With The Descent of Geometry I wanted to make the picture plane a figure and have the world as its ground. I chose the “L” shape because it looks arbitrary and has as many sides as a cube. Hopefully this suggests that the painting is a thing as much as it is a picture.

Steve Armstrong, Zocor, oil on cardboard mounted on panel, 6.5″ x 7.5″, 2006.

This same preoccupation returned with the box paintings. With all my art I want to make the picture plane a figure, and that’s a statement so strong I hesitate to make it, but at the moment I can’t think of any exceptions. It explains why my pencil drawings never go to the edge of the paper and why I make painted sculpture (free standing picture planes in the round). I cannot justify any of this for one very important reason – we do not get to choose our desires.

Steve Armstrong, Rodchenko’s Column, acrylic on douglas fir, 12″ x 12″ x 63″, 1997.

I also see the desire to make the picture plane a figure in the work of Jackson Pollock and Frank Stella. I think that is why their lines do not make figures. I may be wrong about them, but that does not really matter because regardless of what they are up to, picture plane reification is what I want to do anyway. It is not necessary for me to know why. It is also not necessary for me to know whether I have any predecessors with this goal. Desire simply dips into my life like a rudder. Thus a painting is a Rosetta Stone that translates decisions.

The Rosetta Stone, granodiorite, 114.4 x 72.3 x 27.93 cm, Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, demotic script, and Greek script, 196 BCE.

The Descent of Geometry concerns our nasty habit of looking for simple answers to complicated questions. It is no excuse that we fail to notice how complicated the questions are. The Descent also concerns how we situate our desires in unattainable places, as Ludwig Feuerbach pointed out way before Freud and me (projection).

I suppose the Descent concerns how an art object might be indiscernible from an ordinary object. If one were to think otherwise, it is plainly obvious that Romanticism never really went away because for an art-thing to be different from an ordinary thing, it needs to have a mysterious component – something Sublime perhaps. Fortunately, the issue whether any particular thing is art or not, is of no interest whatsoever, especially to artists. Some things are interesting because of their intentional way of being the way they are, and that makes them artish things. Some things are interesting because of failed intentions, or qualities that are irrelevant to their intentional way of being the way they are. These sorts of things are not artish at all.

The Descent of Geometry is about how our use of the Sublime to flatter ourselves is ludicrous and shameful. Taking pleasure in such mysteries is unworthy and I suspect that mystery, being the genus that contains the species patriotism, is, besides the hiding place of scoundrels, the weapon of the baffled as well. Hegel, that Romantic old fellow, provides a fine example of using mystery to cloak vacuity. Oscar Wilde said something about the mystery being in the visible and a corollary of Wilde’s observation would be, “the invisible has greater clarity for us”. And in fact, invisibility has greater clarity than even glass. Invisible pictures reveal visible paintings.

I can only add that I don’t believe in ghosts but they scare me, and I conclude from this that when an idea is fundamental, it is not necessarily true, but it nonetheless stimulates my glands. A good argument has a cheap elegance about it, but beauty is found more easily in ideas that can’t be proven.

I have some advice: Never use things in the manner they were intended, and always use the wrong tool for the job unless, of course, your ambition is to thrill the shopkeepers of the world. In conclusion, consider an artist’s career: As a rule, critics and gallery operators are not terribly visual, most artists are too busy trying to figure out how their work is independent of yours (including me), and the public can be very vexing. At least people like big geometry in the sky, which explains the popularity of air shows and fire works.