Monday, August 4, 2014


Even in his colored paintings, Paul Nash tended to project the world (inner and outer) in neutral tones, not dissimilar to these 1920 black and white woodblock prints of (top to bottom) promenade 2, the bay, and the tide dymchurch.  I’m a sideline spectator only, unskilled in art, but I also see the world that way. I have always wondered why and suspect it has to do with television’s strong influence.  Sitting endless hours in front of a black and white console as a child, consuming all entertainment genres in velvety shades of gray, left its mark, I think. I always found it odd that when the world was deep into the “color era” (the company I worked for even defined a motion picture as a color motion picture in our contracts) that black and white acquired “art-y” status.  To me it looks like reality and it keeps me from becoming (too) overwrought.

Velvet Underground: I Heard Her Call My Name (Link) 

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