[Previous entry: "THE XUL SOLAR MUSEUM: ADVENTUROUS ARCHITECTURE"] [Next entry: "Digital Prints on Canvas???"]

05/01/2006: "Blank Space"

In my living room, on a wall above a rubber plant that's currently alive, is
a blank space.

It measures about 30" wide by 40" long and is as white as white can be. To
the left of the space are nine different clocks in three rows of three.
They tick-tock around the clock and permeate the silence of the sunken room.
Farther to the left of the tick-tocking clocks is a huge geometric
abstract (50" by 60"), acrylic on canvas. It's a circular, brown, indigo,
olive and mustard-colored concoction. The colors are less than appetizing,
but the painting spoke to me, I had to have it and there it hangs. When the
light hits the mustard patches just right, they glow. An ethereal thing.




Anyway, the tangent of the ticking clocks and abstract concoction always
brings me back to the blank space. It's the true focal point of that wall.
It's really the only blank space in my art-filled home. I've tried to fill
it. Two tall palm plants under my care died there. At different times, the
plants filled at least some of the space. I've also tried hanging other
paintings in that space, but they just don't look right. The new rubber
plant isn't tall enough to cover it so the blank space is blanker than ever.

Have you ever tried to fill disobedient blank spaces? They don't like
uninvited company. It's like having a clumsy conversation with a stranger.
You fumble and bumble in a struggle for words to fill the silence. Will
this person think I'm a socially-inept idiot if I don't have something
interesting to say to fill every second? In the media, they call long
silences or blank spaces, "dead air." Dead air means lost revenue. Not
good. Yet, isn't it funny how we associate silence and blank space with
lack of purpose, loss and death?

Because we're always busy, rushing and doing, many of us cannot tolerate
prolonged silence or blank spaces. To cram in something means we're giving
them purpose and making them worthwhile. Even during meditation our minds
are racing.

Shouldn't we pause every once in awhile? Take a breath, stop for a moment,
stare into space, let your eyes rest on a blank wall. Luxury can be found
in the spaces between our heartbeats or the pauses between the tick and the
tock of a clock. The most profound time of all can be down time. The most
profound space can be blank space. Nothing frames a great work of art
better than blank space. Blank space for art, downtime for the people.
It's all basically fresh air. Breathe.

I love my art. It soothes my heart and makes it pump. In perfect time,
around the clock. Yet even in the midst of bliss, we could all use a little
downtime or blank space. Ahhh, fresh air.

MICHAEL CORBIN IS A WRITER AND AVID ART COLLECTOR

Replies: 3 Comments

on Monday, May 15th, Frank Ettenberg said

When an artist is going hungry, an article like this doesn't let him feel any comfort. One thing I've often heard a collector say,
when he wants to be noncommittal, is that all his walls are filled.
Sorry, there's no more room. I tell them: I know you still have
the passion to discover someone new-try to invest in more storage space, so you can reconfigure what you'll be looking at for the next x months. And also permit yourself to acquire something new. Hint, hint to Mr laid-back Corbin....

on Wednesday, May 3rd, jose freitas cruz said

I enjoyed your blog Michael, as the world gets smaller it is becoming more and more difficult to find blank spaces and quiet places.

on Monday, May 1st, walt said

Michael,

one of the first things you learn in art school design class is that it takes both positive and negative space to make a work of art. In advertising design a certain amount of white space is needed or the page won't read correctly. I should think the same goes for interior design and life in general.