Dike Blair is a painter I have long enjoyed, for his sparse, quiet paintings, their meanings obliquely closed to me. It seems clear to assume that he works from photos. His imagery is modest, small views easy to walk past. His attention to them is our attention to them. What is he on about-- the essence of life, the modern life, our own impatience with things without clear meaning?
It is this interaction that I have with Dike Blair that brings me back to him. His reticent narrative points me back to the big questions: what does it all mean? Why should I sit and look at this? Isn't there more? Like a koan, DB's only answer is a swimming pool in the snow.
It is this interaction that I have with Dike Blair that brings me back to him. His reticent narrative points me back to the big questions: what does it all mean? Why should I sit and look at this? Isn't there more? Like a koan, DB's only answer is a swimming pool in the snow.
