I am working on the idea of noise versus escapism in the landscape. Noise, depicted as human-made intrusions in the landscape are symbolic of the dissonance of the excessive amounts of information we receive daily. Escapism, via editing what we choose to see, believe and consume is a way to remove oneself from the noise of the day to day, to find a moment of silence.
There is so much to overlook, 24/7 news channels, the rabbit hole of the Internet, email, texting, everything current and how it relates and builds upon everything in the past; and yet we escape into further noise, into the web, television, whatever it is that people are always staring at on their phones. Why do we so often search out more noise to escape from our everyday concerns? Every moment of our lives requires editing. Searching out a point of stillness, of distance and beauty requires editing, blurring, and cutting out some of the information around us. Quiet, much like sleep is regenerative, it creates a space in which to think, to process and let settle. This is when the abstract multitude parts arrange themselves into a cohesive idea.
Humans have historically alternated between the idealized landscape and realism. The first is meant to symbolize our control over the elements. Dangers lurked in the forests of Europe, in the vast oceans, beyond the town and field. The second approach attempted to seek out socio-political truths. Currently, danger is found in turning a blind eye to the impact of our consumption of the land. How much are our lives improved by highways, the giant power lines, tall buildings etc, versus imposed upon by them? The juxtaposition of natural beauty and humanities intrusions into the landscape can remain meditative and beautiful, but it should also pose questions of consumption of the land and the sky.
I am particularly interested in the sky and the storms because they are very egalitarian. Everyone can search out a slice of silence, a window through the noise. The sky is our source of light. Light defines form. We breathe the air and see the world, our first thresholds of consumption. Power lines run across the sky, roads and fences point their way to the horizon; buildings and structures jut into our view, but the sky still peaks through.
I am interested in the way Julie Mehretu has turned architecture into a tornado of objects and lines swirling before our eyes, in the way she has reduced elements down to their symbolic shapes. John Constable’s highly developed technique in painting clouds, although escapist and elitist in social constructs, is formally gorgeous. I am also intrigued by the Breugelesque critical eye of the photographers of the New Topographics show, combined with the emotional lusciousness of Turner.