Richard Tuttle said, "The actual artwork is a combination of the kinds of things that only happen once, and the kinds of things that happen always."
This quote is really important to my practice right now. It perfectly frames the contradiction between the single, wild impulse of the mark and the enduring form of the print. It has me looking at every mark and asking that question.
The "Only Happen Once" Mark
There's this moment—that electric, exciting surge—when the brush or tool hits the surface and lays down a mark. It’s raw. It's the immediate thought, the unconscious twitch, the singular, "only happen once" action. That mark, in the painting phase, feels totally personal, a complete, messy testament to my hand being right there, right then. It's about the paint's texture, the sheer force, the colour's depth right off the palette. It’s the material reality of the moment: turpentine smells, a sudden decision, an unexpected drip. It’s the event. In my work, splatters and drips, cyanotype exposure and potentially types of paint application...
Expanding the Field to the "Happen Always" Print or repetitive shape.
The energy really increases for me when I print from a mark - or roll something across it [blue roll!!]. That's when the "only happen once" mark gets translated, inverted, and becomes a form of the "happen always." Does cutting act as always happen or only happens once...
It’s like the initial mark is the scream, and the print is the echo that gets caught and held in time. The print lifts the mark out of its specific, sticky moment and makes it universal—a shape, a rhythm, an idea—that can be seen again and again. The print is less about me and more about the structure of the mark itself. It protects me, giving me distance through the indirect, repeatable mark. It brings in this whole other conversation:
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Art History Echo: It reminds me of those ancient processes, like woodblock or even calligraphy, where a unique action creates a repeatable sign. My excitable scrawl suddenly has a lineage. It’s not just paint; it's information being transferred.
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Theoretical Hook: This shift—from unique gesture to repeatable form—is the core contradiction I'm obsessed with. The painting is the life-force, and the print is its ghost-twin, a permanent record. It makes me think about memory, about how a singular, vivid experience (the mark) gets codified and retold (the print). It invites calm, repetition and pattern.
Materialising the Purpose (What it means)
It isn't just about making marks—it's about performing this alchemy of translation. It's about the act and duality of both things being true.
The work's purpose is to capture the fleeting hybrid of experiences of the studio or subject and then force it into an enduring, repeatable form. It’s about letting the raw, exciting chaos of the initial layer be distilled into a clear, articulate presence on the piece.
The idea is simple but potent: The life of the mark is proven through its afterlife in the print. The print confirms the energy of the initial action. It's not a reproduction; it's a declaration that a moment of wild, singular intuition (the mark) can be the foundation for a lasting, repeatable pattern or truth (the print). It's where personal impulse meets universal structure.
How important is this to me? How would cyanotype relate to this - how would the instant exposure and the shadow relate? The opacity vs transparency. A different mark...
