Saturday, February 7, 2015

Here's what

Two (ok, three) thoughts:
Reading quite a bit-and all of a sudden have a greater interest not only in procuring books, but in actually reading them.
Middlemarch-ypu, it's taken me a lot to get started with this Victorian novel-which some consider one of the finest books ever written-and i am engrossed in it and almost don't want it to end…this surprising, as for quite a while I checked my progress via the bookmark's trudging through the pile of pages.
I'll begin-once again-The Recognitions-the William Gaddis book, which is another monster which  promises the same sort of conclusions and sense that Gravity's Rainbow held for me (NOT-I never have yet finished that one).
Roberto Bolano lost me with his Primitive Detectives story and I've been swamped even by many short stories-dunno what accounts for this most recent interest in sitting up straight by a good strong light and giving myself to another's narrative.
I'm so fucking disillusioned with my art and the art "world" and what is considered good lately. No, i know I shouldn't be: I'm too damn old and "wise" (or is that wizened?) to mistake that path… how, at this age, could I see it laden with jewels as opposed to the reality, which is to know that it's laden with blood and body parts. S'pose I tired of  the self-admonition this week (Shut up and keep working) and demanded to know why the hell nobody even casts a glance at what i'm doing. Some days it really all is one big joke.
Writing this in order to prime the pump and start writing again- suffering in silence is for the birds and why not turn these black thoughts into words, paragraphs, letters? I still believe that anger is an energy.

Monday, August 18, 2014


Doesn't this term seems more apropos than the term recycled or re-purposed?

After all, when we make changes in our lives, we don't/ won't/can't start from scratch (despite the free use of the terms "reborn" or "born again")…we re-build on what we have.

So it goes with materials used in the making of art-the stuff is there for us to build on-in the case of "found" objects, we have an huge start, both physically and in terms of the 'feel" of the object, already imbued with the fingerprints of the ages, the old handlers and/or makers of the object…these items have history, even though that history may be an anonymous one. We are not the first to handle/use/own them.
Extrapolating, I can say that we build our lives on the shoulders of others. Mistakes and corrections have been made for us by those who have been here before. Sometimes, we choose to ignore what has been learned and "done". Sometimes, we opt to reject this knowledge out of hand and so we should as one size does not fit all.


The latest from the world of the aging and sagging.

My skin, which once had a different sort of vitality, is changing. It seems to move less. Where once I had a smooth and active, if scratch-ridden surface, now things have calmed down to the point of being, well, deader. Sedate skin. Free from youthful blemishes,  I miss some of that pimpling and other various activities, which I now see as a sign that things were moving.
Laying awake last night (after drinking too much coffee at dinner, which never used to keep me up) I thought about skin. If I was still writing, I'd like to tackle this topic in the form of a disturbing little story. Something about one's skin moving around the body-a bit of stranger's skin, perhaps, from a graft-or a tattoo that has a life of its own?

Worked on this ptg as just the bottom panel, then added the top…

Friday, August 15, 2014

Rowed out

More than a bit stalled-a conversation I had yesterday with two ex-gallery owners/art dealers (of a Santa Fe stripe) has convinced me i should give up as an artist and become a…well, you might as well fill in the blank as I haven't a clue.
The image of working and working, then building a fire and throwing all the stuff into the flames has some appeal. Then  truly I'd have an all-consuming audience-or at the least, an all-consuming performance.
The image of the souls who have passed on and are marching their way to heaven or hell passes through my mind-so many artists preceded me-all that work-and just how many do we know, remember, recognize?
In this is the key: we make stuff because we have to. If another is attracted by it, so it goes…this makes me think that the society that allows for art and artists needs to be revalued. If we were all treated like ordinary workers, perhaps this would be so much the better. Much like the westerner coming to Japan and seeing the now " Japanese masterpiece", the ukiyo-e print, used to repair shoji screens, we need a more humble approach to art and to the artist. At the very least in order to avoid the many disappointments inherent in the art-making biz. The war years in America yielded many artists working just for the sake of working and fine art was unknown as "fine" or as  a pumped-up commodity.

Now, art (and the artists theta make it) is either gold or has no value whatsoever and is not worth seeing (since it is not marketable). Really?

of my most recent painting (photo unnecessary as this artist falls into the "not marketable" category).

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Remember Subliminal Advertising? And Force Feeding?

While google-trolling today,  I used the word "Assemblage" to see so,me of the work that was out there.
If you click on any one image, you probably know that you get a black box with several other images (as well as the one you've chosen). When I clicked on one of the smaller images, it was preceded EVERY TIME by an image of an artwork -but just for a second or two. I did this several times and the same artwork preceded my selection each and every time. In this case, it was a steer made out of printed tin cans ("Pisupo lua afe" by a Michel or Michael Tuffery somewhere out of the South Pacific)…tried it several more times -more out of disbelief than anything else.
THEN I googled a different search topic/images- "Found Object Assemblage"-this time a page from an assemblage artist named Barbara Irwin out of Texas came up EACH and EVERY time, showing me (just for a second) artwork I did not ask to see- repeatedly.
My comment? This is a disgusting use of the internet, but I suppose, Ladies and gentlemen, that we should fasten our seat belts for a truly bumpy ride in the years to come.
How can one say "Shame on you, Google?", as if the corporation had any feelings or ethics? For that we'd have to go to Hobby Lobby to get any real (corporate) feeling. I guess I can't blame the artists wholly, but I would make a serious point of avoiding any further contact with them or their work, as I do not like to be force fed.
Got some extra cash? Maybe you can get your work pictured on Google's homepage-I'm sure all it takes is the right amount of moolah! Soon when we open our respective "private" blogs or email accounts, we'll be treated to such delights as new works by these by Michel Tuffery or Barbara Irwin.