I’ve often wondered – is spin art art ?
– a creative accomplishment with skilled hand-to-eye coordination and sense of color and space and design – or, is it simply a matter left open to chance? Is there technique to learn, facility to acquire, skill to master or is our act of painting simply mimicking a method suggested by Spin Art’s own instruction while satisfying our own creative bursts? Is spin art’s pouring of paint akin to other credible manners in art, (the exacting pointillism of a Seurat, the arm-swing gestural of a Pollock?) or is our work simply a mechanical engagement with neither technique nor boundary to it, readying ourselves for the resulting “spin” – either of fortune or ruin? Can one define well-executed spin art and differentiate it from poorly executed spin art? Can we qualify our definitions by asking – “Is it good to layer all of the colors made available (including the ‘color’ white [which may blot most of the ‘spinned’ work done previous], returning the image back to its original form [that of a blank (blanc) piece of paperboard] and cover the board entirely?” or, “Is it better to be economical and use only two or three colors and then, only once, leaving a surface tenuous and spare?”
Of what use are Day-Glo colors which spark our Pop Art sensibilities, or, metallic colors which echo even more Pop Visual and what do they mean? Do we stick with our three primary colors and allow gravity and movement to create silent secondaries? Should tonal range be considered in limiting our palette, or is it “the more color the better” our truest path to the ideal spin art experience?
Does spin art require a certain predilection in our DNA make-up, like that of someone we knew, who, as a child, “liked to draw” and thus, ended up in art school? Is there a need of an innate anything? Do we engage decision-making to a significant level in our spinning or does a randomness and chaos ensue? Is there a mixing of both? Is spin art a meta-discipline, contrary and unique in its own countering of required talent, artistic skill, or paint-pouring proficiency? Do we take delight in our spin art creations? Are they worthy of critical review? Can spin art claim creativity over convention? Intention over folly? Is spin art fun? Will spin art survive? Will museums and institutions of higher learning realize its breadth?
Enveloped in a blanket of snow piled high and still falling, I think back to a conversation I had with someone who posited that white, or, no color, (absence of color for it reflects all waves) is really all color based upon the explanation that if one (physically) spins around and around a color wheel, yes, a tangible object of recorded color, pigments on a page, (aka: a glimpse of that falling tree) – the resulting visual is that of a blank surface, all color muted and subdued, caught up and simply ‘lost’ in the motion, but tangibly, still [known to be] all there.
And so, – it occurs,
if spin art just kept spinning, would we ever see the color that we know to have been poured onto and all over its paperboard surface? Would it then prove, despite our empirical knowledge-gained action of using all sorts of colors in the process of spinning art – that white (the resulting image still-spinning) is indeed all color made absent and therefore, absence of color is truly all color? Is, as Baudrillard gives us, the absence of something that which empowers, gives meaning? Does the science of refraction help us in our assessment? Do measured lengths of bending waves in prismatic distillation matter at all to the spin artist? To the viewer? To the whole concept of spin art?
What color then, is snow? Snow moving, spinning in a great gale? Snow falling aslant against a haloed streetlight creating its own spinning glow? Muddied snow forming a formidable embankment? Snow that buries itself beneath other layers of the same, insulating itself from surface shadows and angles, which appear blue, or gray, or, just simply darker in color?
What, then, of snow that falls without daylight to help compose its blinding compass? What if one were to spin about in the snow dressed in colorful clothing? Is that person art? Does that person become any less colorful for expressing what would appear to be emotive joy? Can spin art pile up as snowflakes over time and then become a source for reflection? Does a snowflake’s movement give it meaning? Are colors only to be seen in stillness? Are moving thoughts colorless? Is spin art deep? Is snow art? Do we, in the end, buried in our colorful imaginations, become necessarily absent upon reflection?