Andrew Crane
When viewing an art work, preferably without understanding the artist’s intention, I draw upon my experiences, my philosophy and ultimately my instinct. Does it feel right to me? What does it invoke? The power of art is in our personal relationship with it (yikes…cliché).
Andrew first came to my attention through Twitter. This fortuitous connection should be sufficient to promote the merits of that much maligned (by those who fail to understand it) social messaging facility. From there I discovered his blog, and his art.
I could wax lyrical and fill pages with what attracts me to Andrew’s artwork – but you’ll lose interest and browse away, and I’ll have squandered my opportunity to present one person’s rare creative output, but also wasted a chance to say something indirectly about little ol’ me.
Over a period of weeks I’ve taken time to sit and simply consider each of his paintings. Sadly, the electronic medium in it’s current form is not able to reveal the full palette, nor the textural qualities of the art. Better I see them first-hand, able to appreciate the use of oil, cement and canvas. However, such is the efficacy of Andrew’s communication to the observer, that even when admired ‘over the wire’, I’m left enthralled.
Consider the example below. It’s first for a reason. I’m a rational person who makes sense of the world using reason and I value science for it’s key role in the pursuit of truth. My interpretation: how mathematics – numbers – underpins our understanding of all reality. Here the boilerplate cladding of spacetime has fallen away to reveal that relationship. (HGTTG fans take special note of the number 42.)
#2 I’m attracted the simplicity of this work. I like to imagine hidden behind that forbidding concrete facade, labelled “Un-known”, is the answer to many questions – potential access to an unlimited store of knowledge, or an unraveling of important personal or cultural mysteries. Perhaps the key to unlocking the vault is through the spatial relationship between the numbers scrawled over the canvas . Quite possibily it’s the other way around – what remains after all knowledge has been lost. To go one step further into my personal life: For many years I thought I knew someone close and dear to me, only to discover recently I really didn’t have a clue. The cold water shock of being confronted with that truth is symbolised below.
#3 Using “Un-known” as a precursor, I will lead you swiftly on to the next of Andrew’s intriguing works. From what I didn’t know, to what I think I know. Here the relationship between one learning, and one teaching, not through the normal modes of communication. For me, sometimes the most effective lessons are taught by what is left unsaid, if only the student is perceptive enough to notice. So many are not.
#4 Again, for me, this next one is about hidden qualities and mysteries. What is apparent to the observer is not all – an obelisk will extend some way into the ground. Or could this be a cross-section of a Mayan pyramid, depicting the central shaft dropping into the earth. As with so many of Andrew’s paintings, numbers are ever present. More mysteries. Angles? Astronomical references? Ciphers? Plenty to chew on. Much to stimulate the intellect. This is the job of art, and the artist.
TrAcErY 