I have been painting cakes in one format or another, on paper and canvas, tall and lean, square or rotund, light or dark since the mid-90’s when I was invited to show with jean Michel- Basquiat, Phillip Guston and Bill Traylor in New York. The question of drips or no drips in the cakes comes up quite often more often than you might suspect. The curious thing is that whether doing an abstraction of a cake, which in effect all of the Komarin cakes are large, small or lean and tall: some cakes have more drips, some have few and several have nearly none at all.
A drip can mean many things to many people and there is something odd or wonderful in human nature that some see a drip as positive, a good thing, and others the opposite. Not just cakes, but in real life or daily life, that drip that occurs when the icing is perhaps too thin or too hot when applied, but when you think about it, all liquids drips, whether water, blood, milk or wine. A drip can be watched or recorded nowadays as it moves along a flat plane of a painting or a woman’s dress as a glass of wine tumbles about at a boisterous dinner party or a rocky ship. Humans weep and those tears are drips and water flows over steep rocks and those are drips too. Are they beautiful, ugly or somewhere in between? Deliberate or not, they have energy, they move, and they are unpredictable.
A brand new Mercedes fresh from the factory does not want to have dripping paint on the side doors, of this we are quite sure. So the question becomes one of context and reference point. A Komarin cake painting can be beautiful with drips and beautiful without. Best nearly always when the drips occur ‘organically’ though sometimes they need a bit of help. A drip can be seen like someone sliding down a grassy slope. Too much, too fast, a bit dangerous. Just a little and no mean crash at the end entirely beautiful and wonderful the world drips and spins on its axis as the morning sun comes up.