Ink on Paper

iacono_painting_labiav_erde_2016
Untitled, ink on paper, (148 x 210mm), Riccardo Iacono 2016

I did a painting in the back  garden today and then went for a swim. Now i’m at my studio. Struggling to think clearly, struggling to be with myself.

I need to do a clear out, but  what to clear?

This is why i swim, why i make art, to create or find some kind of clearance, an opening. When I look out to sea, I see space to roam, a blank canvas. Not that it is ever really blank. Its alive.

I get in and make a mark and take it from the there.

In terms of destination, I have an idea of where I’d like to be, but in order to get there my attention has  to be focussed on getting a sense of where I am.

Swimming is painting. Painting is swimming. The whole process is a performance, an improvisation and dialogue. Physical feeling is coupled with emotional feeling.

It’s quite difficult to know where the beginning is , where it ends, where the edges are. Everything is liquid. By way of flow and contra flow I find myself in a place and then i get lost . I forget where I was

and now, I’m not sure where I am . So it goes on.

With each stroke water is displaced. I relocate. My attention shifts back and forth between my finger tips and toes, between the application and release  of pressure.   

I read water and it reads me. We flow in sync, harmony, counterpoint.

I breathe in,  breathe out.

As I breathe, time passes . There is no return.

Everything changes, is moving .

I just made a scribble and now I’m going home.

The garden is where I greet the day.

Tomorrow, I’ll probably swim some more.