Reflection

Reflection of Michal Grapel's painting in stacks of photographs.

The most popular work of art in our collection!

I can’t think of anything I’d rather live with than works of art made by friends.  This painting by my dear friend, Michal, is both one of the ugliest and most beautiful things I live with.  It is often the first thing people notice and comment on in our home.  I have always thought of it as a portrait; a melting, visceral, emotional glimpse into an interior life.  It is fabulously psychedelic. 

When I took the photograph of the stacks of photographs, I didn’t immediately notice the reflection.  It emerged in the following moments, and I realized just how ubiquitous this painting is.  It is always in view in this room, whether I am looking directly at it or not.  It is ever pervasive in the periphery.  Even now with my back turned to it, I can sense its presence behind my left shoulder.

It is extremely heavy, built up with countless layers of latex paint.  We have moved it three times since Michal gave it to us, each time with great care and comical concern.  The first time it moved, from Baltimore to New Jersey, it was laid out precariously on top of heavy items in the truck, with its tongue hanging out and over an edge.  We worried that the tongue would break off!  It slept flat on our mattress for the first several days in the new house while we painted walls and unpacked.  Giving the painting prime sleeping quarters, while we camped out on the floor.  It was the only place it could safely rest until we were ready to hang it.

 

We had a special crate built for it for our move back to Austin.  (A crate that still takes up a big corner of my studio in case we need to move it again.)  Our first apartment back in Austin was a three-story walk up, and thankfully(!) we hired movers.  On its way down out of that place, it was second in categories of cussing and pain only behind the washer and dryer.  In our current house, it was the very first thing to be hung on the wall, before even one box of necessary, daily items was unpacked. 

I love our green walls, but I think the painting is made uglier with these walls as its ground.  Somehow, I don’t necessarily think that is a bad thing.  I remember it to be the standout in a group show at MICA in Baltimore, owning the space and practically singing with twisted color as it hung on the white wall.

 

I remember the day of the great slide, its unexpected making.  Michal had been painting similar, but much smaller pieces, often on oval or round canvases.  She would pour the paint, and when it was dry, or almost dry, she would rip into them.  Sometimes stitching them back together, like wounds that had been tended to with care.  She decided to try it again on a much larger scale, pouring as many incongruous colors as she could come up with.  She propped the painting up in her studio (a large cubicle next to my cubicle), thinking it was dry, and went home to New York for the weekend.  Sometime during the weekend one of our studiomates noticed it had slid down and spilled out onto the floor, reminiscent of early Lynda Benglis’ works.  The paint underneath the seemingly dry top layer of skin, was anything but dry.  We were both excited and horrified!  We called her to let her know what had happened, and in her totally chill way, she just laughed.

I have a history with this painting that I relish.  Michal wasn’t sure if it would hold together even for a short period of time, let alone for years.  So, I’m happy to report that it is as healthy and vibrant as the day it came into being.