"Gray Scale," by Evan Holloway. 2000. Tree branches, paint, metal.
What they have in common: trees. Microscopic attention to trees, actually. Open Wilson's
The Keep, and you'll find entire catalogues of trees, in winter, approaching winter, living beside a river, collecting sky. There is not one action, one molecule of tree that escapes Wilson's notice. Imagine if Wilson and Holloway would have collaborated on "Gray Scale," how flush the gallery placque describing the art. Where it's from. How it might otherwise respond to the controlled environment of the art world.
The definition of articulation: is in every gesture of every line and bend and definition of "ontogeny." And to me the idea of painting these tree branches gray is an act of slow loving. Quiet loving. Where the loving is this natural world that inhabits the veins. And if you wonder what that kind of loving sounds like, I suggest Wilson's poetry.
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