Sunday, August 2, 2015

French Table


Once again, the business of making shapes and colouring them in, which ultimately is what traditional art is all about. This drawing dates from the late 1980s and I cannot even remember whether it was a genuine French table on one of our many family holidays in France, or quite possibly something I found in a teach-yourself-to-draw book, and copied, and then coloured in. Art critics will insist that it has no value or legitimacy if it was the latter, but is a candidate for the label genius if the former, a distinction that I find difficult to comprehend. A drawing is a drawing, by whatever route, by whatever standard. I happen to like it, because I like the disorderly arrangement of the objects, the thinness of the colours and the contrast between the near-neutrality of some and the over-intensity of others, making the drawing both naturalistic and abstract.


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