Twin Bed for Two

The Art of David Levine


“It’s exactly what it should be.” Hear that and let it be your soundtrack with David Levine’s drawings. And with this said, you can leave with a sense of closure that tightens the pores of an armored man. Then continue to the next soldier-like drawing for you know what’s just hit you like an arrow in a leg.
Whenever I visit David in his studio things change just ever so slightly, yet the placement is always the same. The desk is in the back right with a futon folded underneath, the fan is hanging in the middle of the window, paintings are stacked along the left wall along with countless CD cases, and his huge half drawn painting hanging on the other wall. The change, though, lies on paper, the size of a twin bed for an extremely tall person, times two. Slowly he’s chipping away at the blankness and filling it with Spanish orange colored pencils. The flood is overwhelming. That’s exactly what I mean. The feeling of being overwhelmed is rhythmic and hard to grasp in the sense that it chokes you and makes you feel like you’re on a boat of paper cuts. On the desk there’s a little short lipped box of Spanish orange pencil tips that will soon grow to the point of a mini Swiss Alp. These are the remnants of the boxes of pencils he goes through to cover such a space. Everything is used and nothing not even the tips will be wasted. The two twin beds will be put together to make a queen sized rest for religion. It breathes something holy to me so that allows sleep to come just fine by their intake. It’s exactly what it should be.
That’s the present, but the past still resonates. It’s undoubtedly the backbone to what he’s become, as everybody’s history is. It started in the year 1990 at the age of 29 years old when he realized what he wanted to devote himself to. His life prior to his drawing dedication consisted of working in factories, warehouses, and writing poetry. Looking at his early works, there tends to be more traces left on paper. The same shapes that carry an equal strain of sincerity exist, yet with the visibility of mistake. He started with the rigidity that there should be no shame in the eraser. His works developed into circles and patterns that relay to the rhythm I mentioned before. Music is a huge part of his work for it fuels David to give it a visual note. His Neil Young drawing, as David puts it is, “exactly what it should be.” When I see the peachy and orange shapes converge in the way they do I’m one of the back-up singers on “Only love can break your heart.” It’s it and more.
Instigating a story or transcending nostalgia through pictures is a gift. The drawing November lays true to these qualities. It’s funny how someone else’s vision infringes on your own experiences. Yes, David’s red, bent-oblong red eleventh month, sure is different from my perception so I’m trying to figure out his link. Just ask him, and he’ll give you a precise story that winds on all facets of emotion and silly encounters. He’s a storyteller all right who titles his openings wisely. These titles shape the drawing, but one should put it in context to their own story. David fails at suppressing his Bostonian accent, which I’m glad for.
There’s not really much else one can say once you separate the junk. Throw the rest away and keep the gold because it holds the heart just like David’s drawings. It’s in the wax that’s spread out with color in shapes. Mean what you say and love the sentimentality of things that are exactly what they should be.

01.03.2004