scale

/skāl/ noun

plural noun: scales

  1. each of the small, thin horny or bony plates protecting the skin of fish and reptiles, typically overlapping one another.

  2. an arrangement of the notes in any system of music in ascending or descending order of pitch.

  3. climb up or over (something high and steep). 

  4. represent in proportional dimensions; reduce or increase in size according to a common scale.

For Caroline Brown, scales evoke an underwater world—her refuge and inspiration. For Caroline Chen, it speaks to practice and process. Together, we also explore a third dimension—scale as size and intensity. We explore how the physical scale of a piece shapes how it's experienced by both the artist and the viewer.


Caroline Coolidge Brown, Under the Bridge

CAROLINE BROWN

One scale, two scales, purple and blue scales, they spark underwater. A cloud passes over and the water goes dark. Then just as suddenly, sun hits bright yellow barrel sponges. I swim through hundreds of shiny glassy sweepers, each the size of a bright orange silver dollar. Then up. And through. With the current. Until I am eye to eye - scale to skin - with a stoic barracuda, suspended in time and space and water. He slowly swims away. My heart is full.

Every time I go scuba diving, I marvel at the ocean’s hidden landscape. It is a constant source of inspiration for me. To see a baby trunkfish, smaller than my own fingernail, not ten yards from a six-foot sleeping nurse shark; to swim up to a giant coral formation and then discover the millions of intricately patterned polyps that construct it. Though I’m now far from the tropical waves, I bring the reef back, through paint, collage, fabric, paper-mache, printmaking, metalwork, book art…I combine all my different art forms, as various as the fish underwater, to recreate the joy of my underwater landscape.


CAROLINE CHEN

The word “scale” originates from the Latin scala, meaning “ladder”. In music, scales are the foundation. 

In my work, scales are exercises in color, value, drawing and intention. I love practicing and exploring these concepts. The repetition becomes a form of discipline—a workout for my brain—and they are often where the surprising, exciting and persistent ideas emerge.  

I am inspired by Corita Kent’s rules and strive to embrace process, play, and the joy of making as essential parts of my scales.

Rule 4: Consider Everything an Experiment.
I want to treat each piece as a laboratory—an open space for testing ideas. Whether a small study or a large canvas, it seems that the most lively and truest gestures are in the starts – where marks are fresh and interesting. The sketchbook, especially, holds the rawest forms of these tests—unfiltered, spontaneous, and honest. As I work to refine or develop an idea, I sometimes drift away from that initial spark. Looking back at sketchbooks reminds me of the original impulse and the value of staying open to process as outcome.

Rule 6: Nothing is a Mistake. There’s No Win And No Fail. There’s Only Make.
Every scale—whether in size or idea—is valid. 

Rule 7: The Only Rule is Work. If You Work, It Will Lead to Something.
It is the consistent act of making that leads to something new. Through repetition and reflection, themes are revealed, ideas evolve, hands and brain connect, and the work begins to speak back.

Rule 9: Be Happy Whenever You Can Manage it. Enjoy Yourself. It’s Lighter Than You Think. This attitude keeps the process open, alive, and fun.

Through play and process, I hope the work will be my teacher—and I that I will keep showing up to listen.



Caroline Chen, Scale