(Sketchbook study, approx 3”x4”, drawn from memory.)
Many times I despaired that I would never achieve any level of technical competence, let alone mastery. Looking at all the great art that preceded me, I worried I would never draw “well enough,” but rather than stopping, I pushed on. In 2017 I took a deep look at what my failings were, and how I might at least do an end-run around them. I believe, after many years, I can finally “do it.” I’m glad I didn’t stop, even though it took years of daily practice.
Lately, I’m thinking a lot less about getting things correct and a lot more about how and what I’m conveying. Is it just my own personal idiosyncrasies I’m putting on display? Is this a story that needs to be told? How much am I’m being influenced by my environment versus my own unique history and how do I make sure the work is authentic? How do I feed it? Is there something I should be connecting with?
Sitting in front of a half-realized image, I often feel that I’m in the position of the poet or the composer. I have to bring forth a new viewpoint out of thin air and not repeat myself. I have to find the thing, as John Berger might say, that formally gives birth to the rest of the composition. It’s fascinating and I can’t see spending my time doing anything else. It’s also terrifying.
So many MFA’s end up doing something else just a couple of years out of school. I get it; it’s easy to get discouraged. My grad school (LSU) offered little to no preparation for navigating the art world and surviving as a working artist. Even if you do manage to pay your bills via your work, it’s a tough road. We are immersed in a sea of consumerism that is almost inescapable; a paradigm that is largely antithetical to being a fully alive as a human being. Everyone is pushed to want the supposedly “normal” things that other people have. To a soul that really wants to fly free, these things are mere anodynes, or worse, lead weights. The artist is constantly struggling to live in the fullest sense and is always falling short. What is most absent, most unsaid, the artist recreates in the studio. Therein lies the reward: not on social media, not in some fancy gallery or museum. If not, then it’s probably time to quit the art game.
I claim no great virtue for the path Ive taken; I’m one of these people who can’t live without making stuff. I’m a bit ornery, like an old mule. I understand that art is an act of resistance. Most of what I own is used, old even. Doing without things like fancy furniture or TV doesn’t feel like a hardship. I’ve put up with all kinds of inconveniences, mostly due to having little money, just so I could revel in the incomparable riches of putting a pencil to paper or another outlet, like photography.
I would be remiss not to mention that a handful of amazing people in both word and deed have and continue to support my investigations. They have a feel for what I am doing. Had they not appeared…well, I’m not sure what I would have done. My love to you all.
Onward!
Reminder: Tomorrow, March 2, 2024, 2-5 there is an opening at Cerulean Arts where my pinhole nudes are featured: https://ceruleanarts.com/pages/exhibitions Would love to see you there!