I went and saw the watercolour exhibition at Tate Britain last weekend and one of the most haunting images was Ruin, painted by Uwe Wittwer in 2008, in which the artist overpaints a digitally copied shot of a Frankfurt bombing raid. It is extraordinarily stark: the remnants of buildings shown in heavy black, while everything that has been destroyed is indicated by plain white spaces in which there is nothing.
The effect is uncannily suggestive. The devastation is shown in outline, the detail is terrifyingly absent..I stood looking at it for a long time, bringing to bear my own fearful apprehension of what might have been. The picture was a complete and finished statement in itself, but because of what Wittwer didn't show, it worked profoundly on my imagination.
I think the same applies when you are writing. A few deft strokes of your pen can be enough to inspire your reader to filling in the spaces for themselves. Often an allusion to violence, or sex, or extreme emotion can be as powerful as a visceral description of it because it demands more from the reader. This should never be a substitute for a full exposition of the dramatic moment, but it can sometimes be an alternative, or a supplement, and can introduce different shades and inflections into your work.
In my experience, it's often in the spaces that the interesting stuff happens. They provide an environment that is ambiguous, unsettling and curious. By very definition, because nothing is there, the potential for creativity is huge. They are the means by which a writer can offer an open invitation to his reader. Like doors, they beckon you in....
I think the same applies when you are writing. A few deft strokes of your pen can be enough to inspire your reader to filling in the spaces for themselves. Often an allusion to violence, or sex, or extreme emotion can be as powerful as a visceral description of it because it demands more from the reader. This should never be a substitute for a full exposition of the dramatic moment, but it can sometimes be an alternative, or a supplement, and can introduce different shades and inflections into your work.
In my experience, it's often in the spaces that the interesting stuff happens. They provide an environment that is ambiguous, unsettling and curious. By very definition, because nothing is there, the potential for creativity is huge. They are the means by which a writer can offer an open invitation to his reader. Like doors, they beckon you in....
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