Paragon
circa 2006
An instant reminder
of Paul Gauguin's The Vision after the
Sermon (circa 1888). A glowing red centre, like fire, separating one thing
from another (which in this case is ground, so green, from water); lazy leaves
bending into the frame from the top; and an odd trio of human beings, one of
whom seems to be a ghost. Unlike Gauguin's group of devout Christians passively
watching the struggle between Jacob and the angel, Doig's characters interact
with each other. They remain unbothered by the red degree of division, and yet
they are, in fact, part of the division. The upper body of the foremost leans
into the greenery (thus 'connecting' the trio with land) while the farthest
almost disappears with the current, and yet firmly stands on a surface. The
middle figure, though obviously holding a cricket stick, could additionally be
'pointing' to something, but to what?
Their line cuts the canvas in two,
receding into the distance and pulling the eye to the valley beyond where a
blue sky peeps through, nearly touching the marble-grey waters. Everything in
this scene appears to melt, to merge, but at the same time remain independent
of each other. On second thought, are the three characters one in the same
person? From different angles does the figure twirl and twist - first with his
back to us, then in profile and finally in full frontal? Is this a process of
growth whereby life is treated like a game, where at each new stage we learn to
hold and master a different tool? If so, then the last most 'mature' figure
supposedly half-floating, half-standing is the ideal prototype of adulthood. He
has merged with both land and water, and with the division between both things
itself. A true paragon?
