In ’Waterworks,’  Paul D’Andrea presents photographs that are loosely connected with the theme of water.  Here are a few examples of the variety in which water is treated in these photographs.  Above, water is used as a reflector taking on the colors of a sunset.  Below water is used as a surface and then as a form created from physical impact.  The images demonstrate D’Andrea’s technical skill while at the same time grabbing the viewer and speaking to him or her.

‘Waterworks’ will be at Wug Laku’s Studio and Garage through December.

An early morning with thick fog cover on the mountains.  The morning light is sifted to a reflected haze.  There is new growth and life at the base of the remnants of a fire.

The Dreamer sits on a window ledge of a ruin.  He is not inside the ruin nor is he outside the ruin.  Inside the ruin are dead trees, while outside life thrives.  The dreamer looks sideways, neither out of the ruin nor into the ruin.  Is this not true of a dreamer, of someone who lives half in the metaphysical realm and half in the physical world.  It is a delicate balance.

Morning in the Mountains, completed in 1821-1823, speaks of a misty, grand expanse.

In The Giant Mountains, 1835, Friedrich uses the mist in the mountains to separate the mountains and fall into the river that weaves a winding path through the scene.

Sunset (Brothers), a physically tiny piece that is powerful on a sensory and psychological level.  The landscape is simple in detail, yet has an amazing light created by reflection off of water.

Seashore (Nets) has a warm, glowing horizon line that draws the viewer into the lonely scene void of humans.  The scene is quiet, created with subdued, complimentary purple and yellow.  Birds create slight movement toward the sun or moon in the sky.

A mist creates a different kind of depth in Night in Harbour (Sisters).  A church and the masts of boats is all we see.  Why is there a Jewish star at the top?

Reflections often catch my attention and distract me from what I am doing.  I find myself thinking how the reflection is not real but an image of something else that is “real.”  I trace how the reflection is different or distorted from the object that it represents.  This distortion is particularly emphasized when the reflected surface is not flat.  Spoons, metal dippers, and faucets reflect exceptionally interesting cylindrical reflections.  I have contemplated trying to capture that distortion through a camera lens or drawing.  Escher experimented with drawing cylindrical reflections (Hand with reflecting Sphere 1935).

Patterns are of interest to me, although not man made patterns.  I am more interested in patterns that are found in nature.  Patterns that are found in nature are made of similar but not exact shapes. Escher used objects to create patterns that had a purpose.  The pattern changed with perspective or slowly morphed into something else.  Sometimes, he used patterns in nature.  In Three Worlds, 1955 Escher portrays this love of pattern and reflection.  The patterns are natural and created with trees and leaves.  The three worlds are the reflected world, the actual leaves that are floating on the lake, and the fish underneath the water.  I have an image that I took with my camera over a year ago (before I saw Escher’s picture).  It is of a lake where you can see the real trees and a covered bridge, the reflection, and leaves that had fallen beneath the water level. I took a number of pictures that varied slightly from this theme.  Escher and I are both engrossed with the different “worlds” (as Escher puts it) that these objects find themselves in, and how their location affects the way in which we perceive them.

Escher would often include transitions in his work, thus if you looked at part of a picture and let your eyes slowly travel over to another section of the image you will see a completely different scene, however you will not quite notice where the change took place.  In my work, I take a different approach to showing this change in time.  In the past, I have attempted to show the transition plainly for the viewer. Recently, I have been trying to find ways to add subtlety to the transitions.  More importantly, the difference is that while the transitions in my work can be taken in as a whole, often times Escher’s can only be understood when looking at the parts.  In many of his works, Escher tries to confuse the viewer.  This confusion is what draws a lot of people to Escher.  They like the way his work is interwoven in itself.  For example, if you look at “Drawing Hands” 1948, one cannot figure out which hand is doing the drawing and which hand is being drawn.  It is intriguing, a pictorial form of the chicken and egg dilemma.

Escher examines reality and makes statements about it through his art. I try to use similar tools to express what I think concerning reality and perspective.  It was a rewarding experience to see so many works by an artist who has such similar interests as me.