Untitled, 2017, acrylic on paper, 14″ x 17″
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Chicago artist April 4, 2016 E. Charles Rolwing Statement Don't bend; don't water it down; don't try to make it logical; don't edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly. Franz Kafka The making of art is for me a journey of construction and destruction. Each brush stroke comes out of my very soul, a place deep in my subconscious. I paint with my heart on my sleeve. The most I can offer that is unique is honesty to my emotions, to lay out that which makes me human. My imagery comes from working in my sketchbooks. That is where I work out the intellectual aspects, symbols and the problems of composition and color theory. There is a place between the intellectual (classic problems of composition and content), and the ethereal (subconscious) where true meaning emerges. It is here that new ideas emerge. I work an idea in dozens of studies before I begin a he painting. Then, when I begin the painting I have a library of ideas and a basic idea of where to start. From that point the painting becomes an idea in itself. It is a reaction to a self contained idea of itself. Each movement follows another, each a reaction to the previous stroke. It is here that the image begins to emerge. I am careful to allow the subconscious to breathe freely, to be open and honest to what is happening, to be in the moment. It happens sometimes to destroy the painting in the process. I wipe out, scrape, repaint, and over paint the image. No painting in my studio is safe. The finished painting is that idea in itself, something to be experienced as a self-contained entity. The viewing of a painting physically changes the chemistry of the brain, and it lives with the viewer in memory. It is the private language of the artist and the viewer. We share that time together.
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I moved to Chicago in 1986, fresh out of grad school at Ohio University, armed with MFAs in photography and printmaking. The week I moved here I had a show opening at DeGraaf Gallery in the bustling River North art district, where I showed monoprints I made in Athens. It was a three … More A Short Bio
He had given an earTo any harebrained idea- Laborious facial ticks weighing Gold mines, health care products And safe combinations. An old sea dog never Got to sea, but he might have If he ever wanted to And he’ll tell you in a second That he didn’t. Never mean but inflexible, Horny- like he might … More On the Possibility of Being Arrested in Provincetown (poem)
It’s all about emotional honesty. It is the one thing that I have that is truly unique. There is a need to create something that comes from the heart and soul through the filter of the intellectual. It is where a lifetime adds up. Something of the times, of the world through an … More The Intersection of the Intellectual and Emotional
A heavy, humid air Settles on the city today, Distant buildings are erased From the top down like An unfinished drawing. An airplane crashed within fog Of this city, and birds flew As if they could do no other- Each’s fall unfathomable To each. I pause, and hold my breath For twenty-nine seconds, a lifetime, … More A Plane Crashed Here (poem)