'Shadow' 36" x 24" Oil on Canvas 'Shadow' is one of those flagship pieces that heralds a new direction, it encompasses all the ambition and direction I have for the new series.
I suppose the work is a manifestation of melancholy, that intangible sadness that I've lived with my whole life, but have come to realize is a default for any artist,when exploring the emotional depths of them self. I read a lovely quote from the artist Odilon Redon-"I have a feeling only for shadows' which expresses the piece perfectly.I have to say thank you to my lovely model Stacey for being a continued muse, she has an innate natural ability to encompass the physical approximations I see in my head.
The anniversary show at Mosaic is coming up, and since it is a sketch show, I have a few days to prepare some drawings. the recovery disks for my OS are in transit from Gateway, so all being well I should be up and running again properly within the week.
No kidding. If the mercurial grays of May, felt more than tinted with post holiday blue, then this month has been obscured beneath the blackened cloud of financial instability and some pretty harsh kick in the teeth realities.
Sales have been dire, and I find myself falling on the sword of my resolution that I would make at least $500 from art a month.The truth has always been as sharp as a broken bone-unless you are an artist lucky enough to be adopted as a media darling or the splashy savant of some sniffy downtown gallery, then you forever teeter on the brink of bankruptcy. It seems to be my default, and as much as I press and I push to cut a swathe and redress the balance, the trad fucking stereotype of the artists garret looms like a terrible long September shadow.
Still, nobody has had the incredible presence of mind in this damned desert to rhyme die with July yet, so this next month may afford a different shade.
There is a potential exhibition I am considering, which may be the biggest thing I've done yet, but is something of a gamble, in that it requires the same boring old chestnut.
And then I have it on fairly good authority (or at least an email) that the printed issue of 'I want your skull' should be available this week.
Finally there is the art itself-I come so close at such hard times to calling it quits forever, making a pyre of everything and consigning myself to never painting another stroke. And then I remember that the interminable, terrible, need to create has nothing to do with money.
Exploring the dark alleyways, sometimes its all too easy to lose yourself rifling through the trash. As an artist, nestling in the shade of yourself, its a double edged sword you run the risk of impaling yourself on continually.The very act of it is diminished constantly by the need to make a living. So,for a few days this week, I was in the foulest of moods-raging at the moon and the sun and the world like a demented blindman shaking his stick at the night sky. It's the sitting for days, naval gazing in the suffocating seclusion of my studio, and I could well have done with the perspective of a walk in the open air. Instead I elected to stand in the fish bowl of a live painting event at the Belly Up. I daresay I played the artistic stereotype to a tee that night-prowling like a tiger before my easel-all furled brow and whiskey chasers.Afterwards, as I sat grimly in the car ride home, feeling merely like some anecdote on the night and bemoaning my lot and the fact that such events aren't exactly garnering sales, my ever wise and beautiful wife reminded me what a lucky S.O.B I really am. With my head stuck so far up my arse that I could see my breakfast, I had completely neglected to consider the legions of people (mostly female and lovely) who had traveled out to see me, and watch every stroke. Or that the event was for charity-Save a Breast foundation, and that a room full of people had bought raffle tickets in the hopes to win my art. Or how happy it made my friends-the organizers that I be involved. Or even the not too small matter that I got to eat a delicious meal in lovely company and dance with my equally lovely and delicious wife. So thank you all-you are truly the lights in the black curtain of my sky.Being an artist is somewhat like a religion, it can provide sanctuary, hope and solace, but can also be like a fog misguiding your every move. Sometimes, I forget that its just enough to be who I am, where I am right now. Thats enough to ever hope for, and I do well to remember that.
