07.04.06
Posted in My Artwork at 3:22 am by quinacridone
Misinterpretation and narrow mindedness can scathe a mans soul. I have always suspected that the work I decide to produce ends up being a little challenging and disturbing. Today I was talking about art – I pushed the conversation in that direction because everyone else was talking about football and sports and I couldn’t really contribute to that. So I pushed things in my favor by saying “How they hell can you tell me you don’t know who Richard Serra is yet you seem to know all about (insert some footballers name I never heard off.)” Well – one thing lead to another and they wanted to know what installation art was, so I gave a description of changing the environment to become a work of art. The person listening got stuck on the word environment – I had to do some re-explaining. He wanted an example, I gave him mine, I made a work in college about being a foster child. The center piece was a baby crib made out of rusty barbwire spread over with a cottony diaper material. The walls of the room were burnt paneling with scratch marks going to the ceiling. I sprayed the room with beer so it smelled like old smoke and stale beer. I thought it was a pretty powerful piece – but it was an absolute flop in college. Barely anyone went to see it and those who did dint seem to care. But I used that as an example – the person jumped to a conclusion that I was advocating putting babies into cribs made of rusty barbwire.
Well – it is a valid interpretation I guess, but one that is so far off the mark I didn’t think that anyone could be that simple minded. The person really jumped to that conclusion – I tried to explain that that’s not what it was about and that he should go to my website to see other examples of my work and then judge for himself. He said no, he didn’t have to, that that’s why we have the fourth of July. A jab at me telling me he already had my number, that I was a child abuser and all my work was about that, and he didn’t have to see it because he was a real American that wouldn’t stand for that type of work, me, or my website.
I don’t know how it got that far. I am not sure what I am supposed to learn from this event. I don’t know if I should not talk about art to save misinterpretations and totally wrong ideas, or if I should learn to stay away from peoples feelings. I don’t think I will do either – I think I am going to keep making what I feel needs to be made – and let narrow minded thinkers wallow in the shallow pool of stagnation. I mean – the man could have asked why right? He could have asked to see more information right? I am having a tough time dealing with that harsh of a conclusion based on little evidence and even lesser thought. I am having a real tough time with people jumping to conclusions on little thought. I hope I don’t do the same things. But maybe I did with football at the beginning of the conversation. Maybe I started it and then asked for it. I wonder if I bring this type of reaction on myself – I wonder if I really do want it sometimes.
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07.02.06
Posted in My Artwork at 8:44 pm by quinacridone
My slat paintings are now up in the second floor gallery. I have been working on this series for the last year of my life. I am so excited about it because it encompasses everything that I have been thinking in the last year or so. It deals with Matrices, Sam Gilliams artwork, the stories about Bryce Canyon out west, living cells – plant cells. They deal with control and freedom, hard and soft edges. Organic shapes in inorganic containers. They deal with issues of race and color, power and subtility. My goodness, they deal with so much at the same time.
They deal with so much for me – at least. I don’t think that anyone else is going to find any of these same issues when they look at these paintings. I think they are going to scratch their heads and ask why. I doubt anyone will take the time to think about any of this. I feel like I have just worked my butt off and lost sleep and wasted hours and hours of cutting, sanding, priming, painting, drying, repainting, drying, repainting, hanging, composing, assembling, figuring out how to make it travel safe, figuring out how to make it photogenic. I have thought of everything – but I have not prepared myself for this total let down. This total dismissal. My god I should be paining flowers and barns and creeks instead of anything that takes people out of their comfort zones. I have not figured out how to deal with this type of un-acceptance. All of us artist search for some type of acceptance – that’s why we makes stuff, to be seen, if we didn’t want to be seen ever we would never make anything. These works are expressions and I feel mine show more than a penchant for making neat looking things. I am really making social comments on everything from racism to Hitler, from communities to individuals, from hot to cold and everything in between. I thought everything was plain as day, I thought each image was universal. I thought that I had boiled down all my thoughts into readily acceptable, interesting, and easily digestible for the masses. Even the art people seeing my stuff barely make a comment. I don’t know what the hell anyone thinks about this work – if it is relevant or not. I don’t even get negative comments. Not even negative things like “I don’t like it because . . .” I get shrugged shoulders and dismissals.
These works were supposed to do more than be ignored. They were at least supposed to raise questions or provide some type of WOW effect since the surfaces have been worked for months and all the paintings are so large. I at least thought someone would comment on the sheer impossibility of making these things – I followed no template, no guidebook. My only inspiration visually was Sam Gilliam. I wonder how large the audience really is. I am feeling more and more like a wanna be Richard Tuttle and I don’t get all of his work myself.
This rant is for me. I drank to much coffee to try and feel more energetic about just hanging a new show. But the area doesn’t seem to respond well to most of my work. My Nocturnes do great, I am almost sold out. But the things that really took some genuine thought seem to never even whisper. Maybe it is the area or maybe I really haven’t found my way of working. Whatever it is making art has always been more about frustration, heartache, and letdown then anything else. I have yet to find acceptance.
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06.24.06
Posted in My Artwork at 5:25 am by quinacridone
That younger brother of mine. Every bit of nineteen and still raging for more partying. I don’t think he has eaten for a few days, I haven’t talked to him enough through his life or been a close enough big brother, I am not trying to patch up his life and make it all better but . . . I am trying to keep an eye on him. The other day I bought him and his friends some food, took him to get a job application, bought him a paper to look for apartments. The kid hasn’t listened to me since he was 12. Even though I know this I am trying to give him some tips for life, I am trying to figure out the angles where some tiny bit of wisdom may sneak in. I have to think like an MP3 player; warm, fuzzy and easily digestible. I say “if you are going to be a trash man then be the best damn trash man you can be.” He ponders this and says it makes sense – then I tell him that I am not the person to first say that – that it was said by a great human being – he asks who – I say “It’s a surprise, you will find out soon if you keep your eyes and ears open, just think about that the next time you are looking for a job, or an apartment, or a car, or in your case a bike; do the best you can each time.” I hope this gets in a little, and leaves enough interest for the real answer.
The more and more I think about it he has been the greatest work of art I have been lucky enough to work on. I feel almost like a parent – yet since my wife and I have no children yet I’m not. So I don’t feel like I own him – I feel like he is his own canvas hanging out where ever he can but some of the paint I flung at him may stick, and help to give him a life of his own, a face that other people see, I hope that my work ends up being a little more than superficial, I hope I can bring some life to this out of work, out of a car, out of food skinny 19 year old, still has a few pimples and that scraggly little goatee I used to think was so cool and now find ridiculous and disgusting. I love to watch him evolve with whatever things I can bring to his life. I am always reminded how much art is like life and life is like art – every time I open my eyes I am amazed.
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