Non-objective art

As you know, I love visual abstraction.  “Abstract” art may reflect something actually seen – but abstracted to heighten the impact.  Impressionist paintings are great examples of this, as are Expressionist paintings.  Further back in time, Mannerist painting elongated limbs and exaggerated human gestures, to heighten the drama of scenes that the viewer can interpret from their own experiences. 

One extreme of abstraction is often called “non-objective,” because it contains no reference to actual objects.  This is discomforting for some viewers, who want to relate a painting to something familiar or even to some thing imagined.  However, it gives the mind totally free rein to interpret meanings or to revel in the visual stimulation without meanings.  Non-objective pieces are “ever green” – always fresh for the viewer, who can see something different at each viewing.

Automaton (https://www.jwharrington.com/other-abstractions/automaton) is such a piece, presenting bold colors against a white background.  (Against white, even black appears as a bold color.)  I painted this as flat as possible, using acrylic gouache, to provide no texture – just color and shape.

Cusp (https://www.jwharrington.com/other-abstractions) is a new favorite of mine, because it uses a mix of pigments (Cobalt Blue and Ultramarine Blue) to yield a blue so “deep” I feel I can swim in it.  To heighten the contrast, I’ve surrounded the blue (graded from pale to deep) with white.  And what role does that bright red circle (or sphere?) play in the composition?

Color Abstraction 30 (https://www.jwharrington.com/color-abstractions) continues the series I’ve been working on for years:  each painting is 24” x 24”, with strictly straight lines or shapes on a solid background.  Here we have interlaced rectangles in white, Cobalt Blue, and a rich, ruddy brown.  I’ve created several interpretations of this composition, and have placed it in the entry of our house, where I can create new interpretations every time I come home.  (I only wish that others could visit and see it – it could be a great conversation piece.)

A new blue

Recently I discovered my new favorite color — it’s a deep, rich blue that I get from mixing Cobalt Blue with Ultramarine Blue. I get the “true” blue and good opacity from the Cobalt, and depth from the Ultramarine, which has a little red tinge to enrich the mix.

I worked on this to get the depth I wanted for Cusp, where the blue is pushing through white and has to contend with an unambiguously red protuberance (you tell me what it is). I was so excited by this color (it’s what I always wanted Cobalt Blue to be) that I contrasted it to gold in three 12”x 12” panels: for P-Generator, where I graded it with white; for Flora & Fauna, where I poured in onto the panel and then dripped gold over it; and for Quickening, where I mixed the blue with gel medium to create a rough texture around a smooth golden shape.

Lots of potential interpretations of these four abstractions — I’ve tried to use the titles to get your mind started.

The thrill of color in paintings

From the start of my time painting, I’ve been a colorist, fascinated by the visual and emotional impact of color.  Form certainly matters as well – as Mark Rothko showed so powerfully.  In my decades of studying paintings, I’ve always wondered – still wonder – why Rothko’s color-field paintings enthrall me.  I’m not alone, though I’ve read quite-good explanations.

Mark Rothko's Yellow Over Purple (1956).

 While Rothko’s paintings seem to demand that the viewer look internally for meaning (and defy that meaning to be “programmatic,” since they convey emotion and introspection rather than a “story,” Clyfford Still conveyed drama in his paintings’ value contrasts and jagged forms.  I see action, even fighting, and if I want I can see narrative.

Clyfford Still’s 1949, No. 1.

I started out painting Color Abstractions, each focused on two complementary colors: 

red and green,

orange-red and blue-green,

gold and purple,

yellow and blue (with a little orange).

Not too much orange, though:  orange is quite powerful, quite jarring.

In closing, I have to acknowledge the master of color and color theory, Josef Albers.

Josef Albers, Interaction of Color (1963), Plate IV-1.

Next: what happened when I’ve added texture to color?