Asymmetry of Expectations

As I had difficulty deciding on whether to do the Monkey painting in a calligraphic brush stroke style or what I called the doodling line style, I had even greater reservations about how to present my new painting.

I stated that my primary motivation for this painting was to celebrate the Year of the Monkey.  Having said that it would appear that it should naturally don a traditional festive garb.  That usually entails bright, vibrant colors, and the color red is a must.

Yet my sensitive, artistic, and yes, even ornery and conceited side ( wink, smirk) wanted it to be more like a piece of art rather than a seasonal commodity ( whatever the definition of art might be ).

That was how I arrived at retaining the naked poplar wood as my frame.  I loved the wood grain.

I did not want my painting to appear ostentatious.

I can't explain why I could accept the gold glitter and yet I would resist the red color.  In other words, glitter was not loud but red was?

That simply didn't make sense.

The expectations from my cerebral side was confronting my "traditional" side.

I then had an occasion to present my painting to another Chinese brush enthusiast and confided to her about my internal turmoil about wanting to paint an auspicious New Year's piece and yet refusing to put a New Year's dress on.  She pondered for a while and grabbed some red napkins and superimposed them on the frame for me. 

"That looks good too!  Perhaps you can make something red, as in a decoration, to dress it up just for the occasion?"

With that said, my cogs started turning.

I had an ugly mat board that I would never use as a mat, so I decided to put it to good use.

I cut out four lengths and mitered the ends to form corners.

I then taped the corners together with strips of artist tape, in the fashion of securing an incision with butterfly bandage.

Then the outer edges were folded in, to form a shell, a lid.  This reminded me of doing craft in grade school, when we made airplanes and tanks and trains with thick stock paper.  We tried to design the whole thing on a contiguous area, such that upon folding along the edges, a fuselage or a gun turret appeared.  Harking back, that was great training in perceiving things in three dimensions.

I then trial fitted this onto my framed painting

At this point, I was elated; almost ecstatic.

I was like kid, able to repair a X'mas toy after it had broken, and was able to hide that from my parents.

I was like a tailor in Hong Kong, custom fitted a suit for my customer.

I could hardly contain myself.  The contraption worked.

I then proceeded to reinforce the joints in my mat board shell by gluing fabric to the seams.

After a couple coats of red paint, which incidentally had to be cut with ink because it was too bright; my new frame.

Some people might describe this as a red neck way of doing things.  In my neck of the woods, the term red neck has a somewhat negative connotation ( correct me if I'm wrong ).   People are making fun of those of us who use duct tape for every conceivable repair, from mending broken window to keeping a detached car bumper in place.  Things might look less than perfect, but at least they serve the purpose and the repair did not cost a national defense budget.

Perhaps I'm a red neck at heart.  At the very least, I enjoy working with my hands and derive satisfaction in finding new ways of doing things.  I think I was forced to be resourceful when I didn't have much to begin with.  In this case I made a convertible shell for my painting.  The red paper shell serves to alter the ambiance of the piece; at least for the purpose of displaying, and for the purpose of being proper for the occasion.

I am intrigued by my self analysis, and no I did not lay down on a couch!  Had I treated this like any other painting, I wouldn't be having this ambiguity about how to present it.  It would be however I felt and I would let the painting guide me in most cases.  Once I perceived this as something that pertains to my culture's recognition of the Year of the Monkey, then I must tread in the foot steps of tradition.  In a way I felt compelled to dress it the traditional way, because it was expected of me, I being a Chinese.   There were shackles that I couldn't shed.  By employing this convertible red shell I think I might have found the way to gingerly sidestep this trap, in my mind at least.    Perhaps by being two-faced.

In the case of this painting, I was vexed by the asymmetry of expectations.

I have my cohort to thank.  She gave me that light bulb for this project.

Perhaps I could call one version the Id, the other one the Ego.

Now which one is which?

Please find me a couch.