Impressions
Notions of something else, hints from imagination, how impressions become a presence
This past month has been extra full and unexpectedly busy. And it’s been fine—even good. Alongside meetings, managing things, and showing up at other places, I have found time in my studio to slowly create a little here and there.
I made a visual book, and another one is in progress, from mark-makings collected over the year from various other experiments. I found sheets of them in a stack in my studio cabinet, as if they were looking for me, too.
The sheets were marks and impressions, memories and ideas. Each one carried a mood, a sound, a language. Some were clear and lyrical. Others were erratic and noisy. Each carried a unique imprint. I cut the sheets into long rectangles and smaller rectangles from the remainder, curious to see how they would combine and sequence onto the pages. What impressions would they make then?
Like composing, with tones and melodies emerging and a cadence in the patterns on the page.
Or in language, with accents and dialects, roars and whispers, speaking in a unique voice.
And seeing nature, waves against a rocky shoreline, a tangle of vines, and fish swimming in a river.
These notions of something else, these hints from imagination, of how impressions become a presence.
Listening to images,
LouLou
