I have always been in awe of the ferocity and passion in the work of Jackson Pollack. I imagine him in his studio throwing paint on his unstretched canvas on the floor and tilting the art world as he tilted his buckets of paint. As a kid, when I first encountered his paintings in the Cleveland Museum of Art, I really didn't know what to think.
I just knew it was different.
When I began to make art in college, I couldn't go near a paintbrush. I couldn't squeeze a tube of paint onto a palette and a blank space terrified me. What to put there? But bottles of nail polish transfixed me. I understood the intended purpose was to decorate my fingers and my toes, but painting with it intrigued me and for years I contented myself with using the brush in the bottle as my means of application.
Recently, I dispensed with the brush and felt the urge to pour straight from the bottle. (If only nail polish came in quart sized cans. Imagine the cost.)
Now that we are experiencing some better weather (warmer temperatures and sunshine no less) I found myself en pleir air, making a new painting on glass. I still have no idea what this fascination of mine is about- but I'm hoping that's a good thing.
The above photograph of Pollack is by the amazing photographer Hans Namuth.