On Numbers

Letter

While thinking about my children's drawings, I realized that one of the methods I most fervently employ in my art parallels an essential element of children's drawings. I'd like to share my thoughts with you and bring your attention to numbers.

Jan, when you replied to my letter about children's drawings, you quoted Picasso to me: "Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up".

All children can draw. That's why drawing is something everyone can relate to.

But what happens when an adult sits down in front of a blank piece paper to draw? There are so many potential hindrances. Maybe it's the feeling of awkwardness with the media; maybe there is internal or even external resistance. In order for an adult to begin drawing when she sits down in front of that paper, her inborn impulse to create art must still be alive. Nothing must stand in her way: she shouldn't have to stop and think about what she's actually interested in or what she considers important.

When my daughter Filippa sits down to draw princesses, mermaids, unicorns and fairies, she brings her universe with her. Consciously or subconsciously, she already has her subject matter. When Filippa's little sister Kastanje sits down to draw, she also brings her universe with her – and as a two year-old, Kastanje's universe is still universal. Life's dogmas and rules and the effects of growing up haven't taken their toll yet: they haven't yet begun influencing her actions.

When I sit down to draw, my subject matter is drawing and producing pictures as a result. However, I want to draw like a two year-old; the period of time in our lives of simple reflections fascinates me. Of course, I lost that innocence a long time ago. So to recreate it, I developed a method of restoring and preserving that freedom and universality: when I sketch, I often use numbers as an instrument for art.

Obviously, the method is the result of a carefully considered, adult reflection. But the process itself is anything but intellectual. It gives me the sense that I'm able to draw freely again, like a child. There's something deliciously paradoxical about rigid parameters affording me that feeling of freedom.

I often use series of numbers combined with gestures to set myself free. I let the image's surface define my gestures: I might choose to work up and down or from side to side or diagonally. At the same time I let circumstances, like the size and proportions of my notebook or my hands leaning on the frame of a canvas, guide me to an expression that feels natural in that moment.

I might start with a horizontal stroke followed by two vertical strokes, followed by three horizontal strokes, followed by four horizontal strokes and so on. As I progress, I confront the problems which arise – for example, where the strokes should intersect. I might choose to use the Fibonacci sequence, or I might consciously avoid using it. Or I might divide a plane according to the golden ratio with perceptible perspective, using colors to represent tones with a systematic perceived depth corresponding to their resonance. The distance between two colors can be perceived spatially, and the distance between three colors can intensify the experienced distance.

Working with this particular method is a dance between control and release. The sketches I produce when drawing this way are lent a universal order, like leaves on a plant stem; it's as if they are conjoined with some naturally occurring structure. By definition, these kind of sketches are comparable to landscapes or still-lifes, differing in their stark modernity and the fact that the romantic element is minimized to a nod. But because they are drawn by hand, the sketches are still very human – perhaps even a bit romantic.

Numbers and their magic are not the objective of my work. My focus is the structure that they imbue my work as an artist. Working with numbers even liberates me from myself. My work as an artist takes on the character of a gardener tending to plants in a greenhouse or a garden.

And I use the work to liberate myself from the many ideas about adulthood that I've been inundated with on my journey. This transcendental work is also about investigating reality with measures and weights. Numbers will certainly continue to be instrumental in the process as well as the final result – they inherently define the work itself, just as numbers inherently define our lives and the world around us.