“How long is a moment,” – what a good question – perhaps it is as long as an idea is good. And paralleling this line of thinking, how hard is it to make a meaningful mark on a sheet of paper? These three seemingly simple inquiries are central to the motivations and processes that propel Douglas Semivan’s work. More broadly, they are the essence of art and represent that rare and wonderful confluence of circumstances when time, manipulation of materials, and inspiration all come together to produce an object that transcends the ordinariness of its beginnings.
Paper, graphite, ink, pigment, maybe a varnish or lacquer, straight edges, a small assortment of templates, brushes, pencils, other drawing sticks, a limited palette – all basic stuff, yet in the hands and mind of the artist intent on communicating in a visual manner that is beautiful, intelligent, and provocative, they become more than the sum of their parts. It is no more than the artist needing to make his visual statements, knowing his tools and the boundaries of their use, and through his own thoughts, conversations, and acts of making art, coming to new terms or discovering new answers to the labors that are his love. However, via these simple means, Semivan succeeds in reaching complex, profound, and elegant ends.
To draw a line involves dealing with a series of mind boggling decisions. The degree varies to which these choices are calculated consciously. They range from the amount of pressure to apply as the implement crosses the sheet and the speed at which to draw, to the selection of implement(s) – whether sharp or dull, whether picking a tool capable of making a consistent line or a broken one; a thin, delicate line or a heavy thick one, and so on.
And then there is another range of issues concerning color – how bright, how translucent, how opaque, how thickly applied or not, alone or in combination with others, isolated or overlapping, modestly, minimally, or abundantly? And what of the emotional associations of color and the positioning of forms within the composition? They can imply a time of day – the luminescence of dawn, the intensity of high noon, the softness of dusk, the embracing darkness of midnight; atmosphere – whether it is clear or foggy, whether the air is still or breezy or heavy with rain; mood – joy, optimism, doom, weight, quietude; relationships – openness, claustrophobia, crowding, chaos, control, organization, order, harmony, dissidence, solitude, loneliness, bounty, abundance, pleasure. Anything, nothing, and all can be rendered. A line exuding exuberance can be drawn. A shape issuing foreboding can be achieved.
And then there is the contemplation of the human presence. How much of himself is the artist injecting into the work? Is he present in the record of gestures that form the piece or in the message that it conveys? Was his intention even for you to consider him or to reflect upon yourself, or both, or neither?
And what was the source of his inspiration? Did he see his subject in the world or picture it in his mind? Did he read about it or maybe hear it? Did he react to another stimulus?
This combination of dynamism and contemplation is present in each work in this exhibition. Vision, sight, thought, and gesture – big, visible actions or quiet, nearly imperceptible ones inform every aspect of these objects. They are investigations into some of the finer and most elemental qualities of art. That at any moment, a decision, gesture, or idea can, does, and continues to lead to another sustained and compelling moment of consideration is what remains worthy of our attention. As viewers, we grow through this interaction, as well as the artist who initiates it.
Nancy Sojka
Curator of Graphic Arts, Detroit Institute of Arts
September 2006