Many years ago, a friend of my grandmother's had moved to Hawaii and had subsequently sent this Hawaiian doll to her (see image, actual size 10" high). Later, after it came into my hands, the doll became almost synonymous with the domain of my childhood spent with grandmother. I had immediately acknowledged the importance of this doll, an object that for all of its solidity, now really existed only fleetingly in my memories from long ago. Speaking in silence, the doll and I had re-imagined childhood scenes together. Partial as these remembrances may have been, and certainly warped by years gone by, there was something magical about being in "conversation" in such a deep ephemeral realm.
A few years after graduating from art school, I painted a realistic version of this Hawaiian doll (greatly enlarged to cover a 5'x10' canvas), sewn onto a piece of fabric which was later embellished with appliqued patterns. Any realization of the madness of this act eluded me at the time, but I had thought at length about how the scale of this newly enlarged image had produced such a surprisingly dynamic energy that could perhaps be seen as something even rather menacing. There was a terrible fearlessness in the force of this forthright, sinister, painted figure, and yet, something innocent and even fragile as well.
What is serious about the adult at play, the artist as inventor? It seems to me that just the act of open-ended exploration can reveal a hidden dimension that is otherwise inaccessible to an artist. Some would call that act a negotiation with our eternally changing condition in order to mete out some unrequited need. Others would see it as a kind of happy hour where inspiration meets enchantment. Who is to say?
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