2 minute read

The Drawing Enters the Paper

DR: How preconceived are the watercolours? Do you know what they will look like before you make them? MHB: I always start by looking at a photograph. I slide through a few of them before the eyes settle. If I have an anchor in front of me, I am able to let go of the ground. I guess the leading point is a combination of looking, selecting the brush, blending the colour or the exact textures of it, and following where it takes me. I never know—if I think I know, I have too much control—I have to be alert.

DR: The use of olive oil, which is material and non-pictorial, makes me think of the watercolours more as objects and less as pictures. I see them ‘as’ something, not ‘of’ something. How do you think of them? MHB: I actually never draw what the photograph depicts but rather samples of lines, patterns, variety of weight, or colours. The original photograph doesn’t matter when the drawing is done—I have already forgotten what I was looking at. The images dissolve into universal rhythm. Something that can be found in creatures of all kinds, the surroundings, the micros, and the macros.

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DR: Is the paper the space? Is the paper the space that the colour and material exist within, in a sculptural way? Or is it a surface? WhenI see images of your watercolours, they are framed. There’s the colour and material on the space of the white paper, then the border, then the wooden frame, then the wall it ishung on,in a room. Where does the work end? Wouldthey ever be exhibited unframed? MHB: The paper is the place where the gesture is captured—a transient moment— something that is only possible to capture for a little while. The drawings are stuck to the wall with tiny tapes right after their making. It took me a long time to find a solution for presenting them because I feared that the frame would take the breath away and I enjoyed them floating on the wall. The frames emphasize the sculptural element, so no, not a surface, the drawing enters the paper. Yes, the work is finished when it’s framed. Then it becomes an installation of its own. You can look at one drawing or a cluster of them. One is a piece, but together they can play with their surroundings.

DR: Olive oil would normally be the enemy of the watercolourist. Usually, any type of grease, even the artist’s fingerprints on the paper surface stops the watercolour paint behaving in a way it is designed to work. Do you use it as a kind of disruptive element? MHB: I was never trained as a watercolourist. To me colour is material, and with oil the line becomes sculptural, which appeals to me. Disruption is an important factor—also the fact that I can’t control where the oil will leak.

DR: Do you make a lot and then edit and reject them? Or do they usually succeed? What is the hit-rate? MHB: In the beginning, every single one became something. Now, there are days where I reject. Sometimes, more often—more often none. The hit-rate is a gut feeling. ◻

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