He thrusts his fists against the posts but still insists he sees the ghosts

Since I changed my life almost completely around I sort of stopped making art. I threw a few small pieces of work at the da Vinci Arts School's winter craft fair last December, but no-one bit. I didn't really do my part to promote, or even stay there at the show, trying to lure people into my clutches. I suck at self-promotion, and in fact I didn't really care about this fair, since I'd been working through an as-yet-to-be-completed divorce. There are worse things, I guess.

I also discovered the Mandelbulb, which has rocked my creative world and changed how I view art forever.

I'll tell you about that some other time.

So now I'm in a new, downscale pad at the foot of the fabulous Alberta Arts District. Two good places to drink one block from me.

Easy now.

Also, 16 Thai restaurants.

I finally set up my new studio today, and it's not too shabby - with an emphasis on 'too shabby,' but I'll make it work.

Today I threw some mud down on a 36" x 24" panel. It was about 1/8th mud in the bottom of an otherwise empty bucket, smelly and full of puddles of condensation. Mixed into a loose slurry, the stuff went down pretty easy.

I worked the texture more than I have recently, worried that what I did will somehow unduly influence what comes next. Or maybe that's a good thing?

I also built a small panel for a group show submission, and took an old painting down from the wall upstairs, adding a few lines and lots of pink.

What can I say? I like what I like.

Piccies:

F

I love the fact that being overcautious is a built in variable for my process.

If I'm nervous, I affect the painting lightly for a while. Was about to lay down some color a couple days ago, and thought the pigment might be too strong, so I diluted it by half.

Did my work and by the time it dried I could barely see it. Nevertheless, through a type of accretion the painting starts taking its direction, and even though the marks are hard to see they will still influence everything that comes after.

Pictures?

Some day, some day.

I wonder how many other abstract painters consistently have a 'dump' painting going on. A painting that doesn't work, and you keep trying to save it, and ultimately just start trying whatever-the-hell, truly whacked out ideas, just to see if something sticks. Ultimately, the painting looks truly horrible, but maybe an interesting direction comes from it.

Interesting dynamic (wait, that sounds boring)

Since I've actually been working a bit I've noticed some things. I guess it's good to actually look at how you work and think about it. Lord knows I'm on some form of auto-pilot most of the time, considering the number of times I've noticed I'm driving the wrong direction out of habit for going somewhere else.

* I'll always go with an intriguing tangent, even if it derails what I intended to do with a painting.
* That's why I feel like I don't stick with things long enough - half the time I'll start a body of work, and change the direction a few times while working on it.
* To this end, it seems like ideas I want to explore get dropped and forgotten frequently.

Anyway, I have a new piece with a figure/ ground relationship, that's something I haven't exactly done in a few years. Yipee!

Will be working on some art for a holiday sale in early december. Works of this type have been proven to be more 'popular' than my fine art pieces, though in truth the only difference is in size and level of work; i.e. I'll tend to work fine art stuff a little more rigorously.

My process aids me in producing things that look similar and have a similar effect, whether they are 8" x 8" or 36" x 48" (or maybe that's just the beer talking).

I'm always worried about diluting the brew, so to speak. Perhaps I should adopt a pseudonym for 'work-for-sale' as opposed to 'pure art'. Is there a difference? It's not like I'm making these smaller more affordable pieces and cackling, rubbing my hands together in the hope of earning about 10 dollars an hour for my time.

If anything, the smaller pieces are more 'pure', since I don't worry them so much. Of course that worrying has its own benefits and demerits - mainly if I worry something too much I'm going to screw it up and then have to work twice as hard to return it to equilibrium.

We're burning our bridges if we talk about this too much, I think. Pay no attention to the man behind the apron.

TMI?

I think it will be difficult to let go of the secrets of my process to the world at large. Seems like it will remove the mystery and take away some of the power of the work. Who knows? Anyway, I'm not going to describe anything at this point, rather I'll just post this picture of a work in progress. It's about 18 x 24 inches.