Wednesday, July 11th, 2007
Trompe L’oeil = trick the eye. As an historical painting approach, trompe l’oeil means tricking the eye into believing that something is in real space, when in fact, it is a cleverly painted flat surface. It is truly a trick of the brain—a shift in perception. Mary Temple’s subtle wall paintings of sun filtered through leaves fool a viewer for a moment into thinking that she is viewing the actual phenomenon. In this case, the trick of the eye becomes a door to profound insights about the nature of doubt, while also poetically capturing transient beauty.
“1,000,000 ellipsoids,” a body of work completed by Temple in 2003, is the result of a decision to draw, yes, 1,000,000 ellipses. These were meditatively whirled onto vellum, piece by piece, until a body of drawings emerged. What follows is part of a written dialogue with Mary that I was able to have recently about these compelling bodies of work:
GB: Discipline is an important part of your work with “1,000,000 ellipsoids,” and also seems to be a part of your overall practice as an artist. Can you talk about the struggle and/or freedom of working this way?
MT: Over the course of the two years that I drew the million ellipses I had other projects that I worked on in the studio- each in various stages of inception, progress and completion. It was very liberating to have a body of work that was predetermined, in that I had worked out much of the form and the content was really in the doing (and doing and doing…). So I had the rare joy of knowing what I was doing for at least 3 to 4 hours each day; it seemed so luxurious to work without angst. The difficulty came at about 200,000 ellipses. I just lost my concentration and wondered why I had given myself such a difficult task. I felt as though I had been drawing ellipses forever and had so many more to draw; how would I sustain my interest in the project? Some of the drawings from that period are awful- clearly distracted (but they remain part of the project, of course). I persevered, just pushed through it in a runner-and-wall scenario, and after that incident I rarely got really restless or impatient, much of the time truly enjoyed losing myself in the process of drawing. When I finally drew the millionth ellipse I was thrilled to be finished with the project, but I also had this sense of loss because I knew that the next day when I came into the studio there would be only questions. That is, work that needed solutions, contemplation, and maybe even abandonment.
GB: I have a good friend, also a painter, who wrote this: “Sometimes I get too serious with my work; it’s like trying to move around in a straight jacket. I need to goof off and make silly work, do stupid art. I have plenty of time to get serious and refined later, when I figure out what I really want to be making, through play.” Do you relate to this? Is there sometimes a relief in being directionless between projects?
MT: I’m more self-deluded than that. I have many, many projects in my past that I worked on very seriously, and then abandoned after realizing that I just wasn’t satisfied that the piece was rising to the level of art. Maybe the word “play” can mean being slow to label the thing “art” and I think that is wise.
GB: Sun through leaves invades interior spaces in much of your recent work. It strikes me that it’s an intersection between indoors and outdoors—a city-dweller’s experience with natural phenomena. What is it about this phenomenon that keeps you coming back to it?
MT: I do love the confluence of internal and external space in the installations, and have made that a subject of some of the pieces. There is always a challenge in making the piece function well in a new space, to site it in such a way that it is absolutely believable. I love addressing that challenge, but the most compelling reason to continue is that I think these pieces have something to say about the importance of doubt. When a viewer believes the painting, they trust their senses and for a moment they think they understand. As they continue to look at the piece they may see a stroke of paint, or notice something that makes them doubt that what they are looking at is actually light. Then maybe second later they’ve pieced together the solution and understand that it is a trompe l’oeil painting. For me making these pieces is all about getting the viewer to that moment of scramble – the not knowing – doubt is the beginning of learning, desire and philosophy writ large.
GB: I love this line of thought. It’s interesting that the viewer sees what seems to be truth, but the rug isn’t entirely pulled from her feet as she discovers the “trick.” It becomes a new view—an understanding of a different authorship. And this is part of the seeking of truth in the face of doubt, I believe. We never stop looking for the explanation, but there’s something both blissful and disconcerting about the moment between conclusions. I can see a relationship between this and the notions of studio practice we’ve been discussing.
MT: It is absolutely part and parcel the same.
(See more of Mary Temple’s work, and find out where you can experience the work in person at www.marytemple.com)
Images: 
"Southwest Corner with Ladder", 2005, latex paint on existing
architecture
6′ x 6′ x 8′
private collection
"Extended Afternoon, Phase 3 (detail)", 2006
latex paint on existing architecture, hardwood planks, wood stain,
varnish
17′ x 24′ x 23.5′
The Aldrich Museum of Contemporary Art, Ridgefield, CT
"1,000,000 Ellipsoids: 350,500-353,500"
2001-2003, pigmented ink on vellum, 30" x 36"
