Notes from an Easel-part 66

These past few days I've been ensconced with commissions, but I felt the fact that I gave myself some studio time to begin a new piece warranted an update, so here are the beginnings of my next skull in the series.
Distracted from my mission, the yardstick of milestones has plagued me the last several days.Its the usual guff that reminds me of the leaps and bounds that former paragons had achieved at half my age. Picasso had completed his Blue and Rose periods, set the world of new isms alight with Les Demoiselles d'Avignon and was a few years short of Guernica by the time he was 40.
Having broken ground with albums such as Ziggy, Low and Scary Monsters, Bowie's career was already in creative freefall by forty.
And yet, I console myself that Henry Miller didn't write Tropic of Capricorn until he was almost fifty, and Goya (the greatest artist of all time imo) didn't do his best work with the Black Paintings, until he was completely deaf, and half mad in his eighties. I imagine its relative, propelled by impatience for some kind of recognition and an appetite for utterly undistracted emergence. Not that I hold myself in such esteem you understand, I shrivel in such shadows, except...blah, blah, blah-no answers here-move along.

In the midst of keeping a roof over ones head, I let my attention wander to a biopic on Rauschenberg today. He likened art to trickery,literally consigning much of contemporary art as a blag with that knowing grin of his. If only Vincent had known. I often see Vincent as the ultimate martyr-posthumously, art would only ever be the contrived suffering of Ron Ethey or the shabby little suicide of Rothko. Even Pollocks death seemed paint by numbers by comparison. Fuck you Vincent and your miserable stereotype. Fuck you Rauschenberg and your privelidged cynicism.

Head Candy-the elevation of nothing

According to Rolling Stone, John Meyer is the master of the low brow Twitter bon mot.
Ricky Gervais meanwhile, thinks its undignified for adults.
Me-I'm just not so self obsessed that I want to constantly elevate the mundane minitue to the status of "event", so I'm afraid my twatting days are destined to be stillborn.
I will however tell you nuggets such how besieged I am by irrational melancholy when it rains for three days. Or how the seafood at San Diego's Oceanaire restaurant is so succulent it ought to be R-rated. Or how intoxicating I thought my wife looked tonight, and how I wondered what she sees in me.

Do you get a complete picture of my day? Is it all encompassing or just merely one facade of a multi facet?

Watching Sophie Calle on Ovation today, I was left with the notion that the currency of art has become like that of a Twitter apeterif. Trying to redefine the diminutive and trivial to relevance. A momentary sketch of the moment, enigmatic- perhaps, insubstantial-certainly.
The elevation of nothing-rather like this post.
Here are sketches from the last few days.

Mosaic Gallery Grand Opening-San Diego-featuring David Gough

I’ve deliberately taken a few days to assemble my thoughts about Saturday's show. Not only to soar above the inevitable comedown but to try and find some cohesion in the whirlwind that was the night. Unfortunately, my camera was not up to the challenge and as a result, more than half the photo's look as if we were caught post nuclear flash. As hugely disappointed as I am that I shall not have a solid visual record of the night, I am happy to say that was the only shortfall.So many friends who had said that they would come-did, and I met so many people who were genuinely interested in my work.
It was a humbling, vindicating experience.
Add to which I sold art-which was wonderful.

I have several people to thank-firstly fellow wall sharers-Shay Davies, Mee Shim and Rich Walker and Mark Jesinoski for being hugely gifted and rising above ego to be a pleasure to exhibit alongside.

To owner Mos and all the lovely staff at Mosaic for being so accommodating and keeping me well watered throughout a very busy night.
To all the friends who came out especially in support to see me-too innumerable to mention, you are diamond. To my wife Lani for being beautiful and patient and my rock-I love you.

To those that bought art, you are the people that help me keep doing it.

And finally to my great friend, fellow journeyman and organizer Mark Jesinoski-thanks for having the vision and determination to put together a grand first show.Cheers.

Mosaic gallery opening featuring David Gough

The suit is trimmed and the beard pressed-or should that be the other way around? I wish I could approximate the way Ethan Hawk looked in Great Expectations, but shall have to live with my Edward Norton's grizzled, older brother look.

Because people are there to look at me and not the work on the wall right?

My wife however promises to steal the show, with her deliciousness.

Regardless, I shall be working the floor from around 4pm, which is as much as I can muster competently right now, except to say that if you are reading this, and live in San Diego, then you should come to The Mosaic Grand Opening tonight, because it promises to be the best art show you will see in this city this year.

Saturday, January 16, 2010 5:00pm - 10:00pm
Mosaic Wine Bar,3422 30th North Park, San Diego, CA 92104

Notes from an Easel-part 65-Life after Death?

In light of the tragedy that continues to unfold in Haiti, it's difficult to be so trite as to post anything substantive from the warm comfortable safety of a roof over ones head. Which is why it is so abhorrent that a supposed holy man, should leap on such a devastating catastrophe, as a grotesque opportunity to admonish an entire nation with what amounts to an underhand, superstitious, poisoned, racial barb.
I hope at the end of your miserable, self righteous existence, that you get to meet the smiting, bigoted, Old Testament monster you so revere Mister Robertson.

There are however, positive ways to contribute something other than ones own despicable agenda, Paypal and Ebay are fund raising for Save the Children, and unlike the bloated church coffers, anything you donate is taxable:

Make a Donation Here
Perhaps enlivened by the vitriol, I have produced what I think is one of my strongest pieces to date. I had intended to put it on Ebay, since its a preliminary comp to a larger scale for the show in October, but if there is room in the exhibit, I'd like to include it this Saturday.

Head Candy

Mark posted a sneak preview of the hanging today, and it looks splendid. As my personal guest list grows, I grow ever more nervous at being the guest of honor, as I begin to realize how many friends I've made here in the US. It shall be something to stand in a room of familiar faces, surrounded by the last three years-perhaps even a little vindicating.

I began a new piece this evening, which is in no real state to view for the moment, but I am very happy with the first daubings, to the point that I shall probably choose it as a piece for the show in October.

For the moment, I am exhausted so here are two sketch book pages from the last few days, which include hand studies for a proposed work and poses for a commission.

Notes from an Easel-part 64-kiss of death

There's something that encompasses the deadly illicitness of dark passion with this piece.The brittle, stark, cream skull, dark blossoms from its orifices against a bleeding crimson sky, hangs like a terrible longing. I'm exceptionally happy with this one, Lani called it sexy, and I think the brush work is some of my best yet.