it has been too long and many thursdays have come and gone.
my excuse: the sun, the studio and renewal of sorts.

meh

Sometimes you think you're doing something exciting and new, only to realize that what you've painted looks like a shower curtain.

Matter doesn't matter

I read in a brand management book that a company (andtherefore I hypothesized a painter) should answer these three questions: What do you do?  Why doyou do it? And Why does it matter?

I figured that was a good exercise for constructing anartist statement.

I struggle with parts two and three exponentially.

Even part one can be tricky. I mean, I make pictures.  I make pictures of nature.  I paint. They all seem at once glib and limiting, however true.

After fueling my creativity and stewing over these ideasearly this afternoon, I thought to myself, well, do I really NEED to answer these? I mean, who cares?  Why don’t Ijust paint (part one) and have fun (part two) and leave part three to thecritics and historians and collectors. Hell, maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe I worry too much about the “matter” part.

Further back in my mind is an email exchange that I had sometime ago with a nice rep from Gamblin.  Ihad painted some pieces on plywood and was asking about their future stabilityand whether my work would eventually fall prey to various and sundrydeteriorative effects, and whether Gamblin had products that would waylay thatrot.  He said, in essence:  “don’t worry about it.  You are an artist, and you should CREATE –let the future generations of archivists and conservationists worry about howto preserve the thing that you made using the materials that you felt compelledto use to express your intent.” 

And so today I painted this. My God, what a thing.  It is allspray paint and wet goopy acrylic and poured and splashed and smooshed and …man it was fun!  Can I just say thiswithout sounding like a dork?: for a moment I WAS NATURE.  I know Pollock said that first, but it justfelt like for an hour or so, I don’t even know how long, I really WASnature.  I mean, I think I know what hemeant!  I was mixing up a giant petridish of goo like at the moment of creation or the big bang or whatever.  And you know what?  I have no idea what this thing will look likein ten years, or a hundred years.  Will thepaints freak out together and begin to fester and bubble and fall off?  I don’t really give a shit.  Maybe it will just become better if they doanyway!  Did God know that the ivy wasgoing to climb up my fir trees and kill them? Is that OK?

So anyway, there you go. I painted today in a high state of engagement with the materials and thesubject.  I felt like I boxed ten roundseven though it might have only been an hour. I’m not sure I breathed the entire time.

Earlier this morning I painted portraits for a commission,and as terrific an experience as that was, and it was (I may write moreabout that experience later), I needed to feel pine sap course through my veinsand lay down in the grass and look up at clouds and feel the earth spin and bea kid for a little while.