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It comes as a happy congruence of fate that after years of residing in the exploratory phase, the launch of tinsquo.com shares its inauguration with the 100th anniversary of the Wright Brothers' first flight. As a native Daytonian, I grew up in a cultural mileau that told a story where Orville and Wilbur were as Greek gods. Their lives form the defining, shared understanding of what makes the Miami Valley a special place from which to hale. As I'm sure is the case with many people who grew up in Dayton, it did not escape my notice that the Wright Brothers' bicycle shop on West Third St. was as unpresupposing in its day as a contemporary suburban tract house seems in our own. It was an unquestioned thought process of my youth to assume that dwelling within any given house might be a mind at work on some fantastically visionary project destined to change the world. (This, in fact, is not altogether delusional. Dayton has produced an inordinate number of inventors.)
I long ago left the Gem City, but I didn't leave behind the idea that in the nurturance of visions reside the meaning of life. For twenty years, I've been engaged in the practice of painting, trying to do something, something real and impactful. My aesthetic foundation and initial inspiration came from the New York School Abstract Expressionists. Their revelation that process is content guides my work and, in fact, is the principal to which tinsquo is dedicated.
With this site I aim to share the forward edge of my painterly process, to share the traditionally private or inward pursuit of surprise. This is, of course, really the most interesting thing about painting and art. The Web holds the promise of revealing what happens behind closed doors in the remove of the studio and, in so doing, alters what we perceive as valuable and invites others to their own artistry.
One hundred years ago, Orville Wright jumped off a sand dune and in a sense he still hasn't landed. While banking into the wind it's unlikely he was thinking of lunar landings and Hubble telescopes. Most likely he was just hoping not to break his neck and how to improve on the next flight. One thing's for sure, though; my Daytonian forbearers were not bound by the status quo. Their lives would seem to be a refutation of the very notion of a status quo. In a universe of unbound possibilities, we invent the world moment by moment. Invention is human nature. Hence the name of this website, tinsquo -- short for There Is No Status QUO. Welcome.
Posted by mark at December 17, 2003 10:35 AM