hmm
The smaller Chattanooga gets, the more self-conscious I figure I should be.
But that's not my first reaction.
---
I find that when I'm painting, There is a drive, deep inside of me, that literally forces me not to simply represent the object in front of me.
I am repelled by the idea of sheer representation.
Its like this in all of my work.
I can never take something for its face value or outward appearance.
Why cut yourself short?
Though let me add..that there is another train of thought entirely, when I work in glaze.
Last Wednesday, I was working on a still life. A study of a bowl (that looked like it was from blue skies <3)..Standing over in my corner working away..
In the middle of class, I took a break, and started walking around the classroom to see what others were creating.
I made a full circle, coming back to my own work.
What can I describe..
besides complete dissapointment.
Every piece that I've created has taken leaps of faith.
Its almost like teetering on the brink,
scared that the next brush stroke or knife mark.. will "mess up" the piece beyond recognition and beyond any salvagable point.
For me, I have to approach the canvas thinking that it is ok if i mess it up, because its a piece of gesso'd cereal box and not some huge stretched canvas that cost 30 some odd dollars or more.
But when I returned to my study, my "temple" of faith seemed to be made out of matchsticks.
I returned to my board, seeing a ruin of all my previous alla prima work, and feeling as though I had successfully reached
nowhere.
It was towards the end of class, when I sat down on my little metal stool beside my palette and just looked, disheartened, around the classroom, and at my station, and at the study.
When Ron (the professor) came around
I told him my fears..
I told him quite plainly that I felt my work was nothing but a child's finger painting compared to everyone else's... but also that I could NOT drive myself in that direction, to be directly representational.. and that something deep inside of me just couldn't allow it--that it felt so Wrong.
I tried to stop it, but I was unable to control the tears rolling down my right cheek.
He consoled me.
"I think it's good that you are doubting the direction your work has taken. It is important for everyone to question their work or their approach. It allows us to see our goals more objectively.
When I grade, I grade according to the studen'ts progress. Just remember that you are here for a reason, and that there is something to be gained from your being here."
Since that day, I have saved and cut up every imaginable piece of cardboard for gessoing.
And, I'm rather happy to report that I "fixed" that painting.
I want to see your stuff. And one of the great things I've found (at least as far as film and editing, but I think it applies) is that no matter how badly something seems fucked up, it can be salvaged in some way shape or form.
And if it can't, c'est la vie.
Posted by: Random_Tangent at November 10, 2004 02:00 AMI remember being told that a good artist works with their mistakes.
This, while appearing easy, is much more difficult that it seems! In painting, and I'm not quite sure if the same can be said with digital media (due to control-z!), there are times when I feel like the mark I just made becomes extemporaneous, and ultimately not needed.
It is quite a trick learning that feeling; knowing when something is "finished".