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Rick A. Robbins Statement
I push paint, and paint pushes me. This relationship allows me to go to places I have never been and allows me to revisit my past. The marks and colors on the canvas are a combination of chronological thoughts and visions of the future. For me, painting is a necessity. Once a painting is completed, it takes its place in my life and body of work.
I have memories, scars, stories, and unexplainable feelings. There are words that can't be spoken. This leaves me with energy both positive and negative. When I take brush in hand, or whatever tool feels comfortable, something must be unleashed, opened, or channeled into some kind of record. The canvas -- untainted, pure, open space -- stands before me. A transfer starts to take place. Moving back and forth with color, in and out of time and place, the canvas comes alive. Part of it dies and gives way to something new, unknown. Remnants (scars/scrapes) are left behind. Marks from the past form their own history and story. An identifiable mark, brush stroke, or color refers to its past and merges with the ongoing present. It's there, now, like the past. It has to come along. It can't be removed. It can be hid, even scraped off, but it is there. Another push comes! It runs, climbs, falls, dips, stops, and surges. Colors come and go. Marks turn into elements or symbols. Or they are just marks. Color retains its properties; there is positive and negative space; beauty and ugliness are present; time goes by, stops, stagnates, and continues in the once open, untainted space. The eye moves through, maybe stops, or never even looks to see. But that space is there now. A record, a mark, an image ... then a memory. Does it fade or seat itself within another person? I don't know. I do know that I have made this. It came from far and near. It came from within that which was inspired or activated from the outside. These are my stories, trials, and discoveries.
Certain elements work their way from one painting to the next, but if they lose their strength, the push in the relationship must be raised to another level. If certain marks and colors are coming together, I work with these until I have exhausted them, and myself as well. If I find myself simply "going through the motions" with certain colors, marks, and symbols, I know it is futile to continue with them. Once they, and I, are exhausted, I know the honesty and integrity with which I must work is being denied. I have to find something new. I look inward and outward, searching and seeking.
The ability to explore, search, and seek the unknown was provided for me by my parents and elders. They promoted and allowed this in all venues and avenues of life. Instead of staying indoors, I went outside. I ran wild. I walked, ran, climbed, fell, hid, slid, tumbled, and flew through life. I laughed, cried, screamed, sang, choked, inhaled, and exhaled. I bled, puked, and broke bones. Now this is all inside me. I bleed, love, hate, smile, cry, care, ignore, acknowledge, see, hear, wonder, sing, hide, laugh, question, talk, run, and sleep. I embrace, reject, and fight. There is peace and conflict. I am alone. There is no one in my life ... and I am not in anyone else's life. I am just a voice and an image. Or am I?