How to Flatter Other Artists

The feeling that I'm ripping someone off-that I am too closely copying someone bothers me greatly. There is an unuttered fear (almost like one of your typical bad dreams) that I don't have an original bone in my body-that my every thought and everything I produce is based on other people's work.
There are worse evils in this world, but that doesn't make me any more comfortable with thoughts like these. It was my intent when living in NYC (where the stars are, in fact, born) for so many years-to be the next art star-to be the most original thinker/sculptor/painter-what utter fantasy. Since that time, I've realized that I am directly wired to the making/creating process. The originality part is secondary (Yes, it's important, but I also know my priorities) but I still have art-star longings.
I'm facing this issue once again as I have longed to get out of the rut that's captured me for quite a while. No one else sees me in a rut, but they look only at the work, not at the process...the difference between a rut and a grave? The depth of the hole.
I've recently looked (maybe a little too closely) at the work of Terry Turrell. I have to admit, I'm wowed by his sculptural work to the point where I've started using heads as a sculptural jumping-off point. I can hear you all now-what's new or plagiaristic about the use of the human head as a sculptural form? Nothing, I answer, it's just that he did it first and oh-so-well.
Anyhow, I'm cutting heads and painting and nailing stuff to them-guess you will have to be the judge as to whether I'm just a copyist or if I have something new to say...but, you'd best give me a little time to develop....and get over my sycophancy.
You do the judging, and I'll cope with the guilt.

Did I make a mistake? I bought a cheap set of Gouache colors yesterday at the Jerry's store in West Orange-a little nervous about approaching them. Meanwhile, I need to carve (pardon the stupid pun) out a little time to work on several of the more promising canvases that surround me here in this workroom.

Need some answers

Turning heads.

That's what it seems as though I've been obsessed over the past two days. I'm trying to envision making some sort of 3D heads that wouldn't require that much effort or material, so that I can spend more effort on modifying them...chicken wire, plaster, wood armatures, wet and reformed cardboard-I keep going over this in my head and haven't struck on anything yet. I have a great distaste for a lot of these materials. But carving the heads out of wood, although "noble" and the "right" way to do things seems foolish, considering that I'm more interested in covering the things up than anything.

I have some "hard" styrofoam in the shed-I've held onto it since getting the place-although I don't have any experience working with this material, it seems as though it could partially fit the bill (it doesn't answer the other part: to have a form I can nail things into). S'pose I could use glue instead of nails, but somehow that seems dishonest-or maybe just not as gratifying.

The logs I have from the willow that fell in the yard will answer for some of the needed material as well. I might actually use the chainsaw to do a bit of the "elbow" work so I don't suffer too much from the process (I have tennis elbow from all the hammer swinging and carving I've done throughout my life-I can carve all day long, but, guaranteed, the next day I really pay for it in the pain department).

Wish me luck-don't want to drop this project (at least until I get to the results I envision) for want of a technical solution, but I just can't see putting that much effort into the undercarriage of the thing.

This one is called "The Golem Cart."

hard(er) times

In an effort to save resources, I've not turned on the heat in the studio yet...yes, I'm cheap, but this is also a question of survival. Working in a coat with the occasional pair of gloves on-can't say that I'm comfortable, but the situation is bearable...
I wish I could say that some sort of new inspiration rose out of this physical challenge, but I'd be lying. What has become easier is having a shorter day down there and coming home to warmth and comfort.

Besides a new interest in making heads (cladded in rusty metal or gooped up with modeling paste), I plunged into working a bit harder on a "production" line, which is probably a fools' errand...the original thought was to make some prototypes (6 or 7 sculptures) and then offer them to galleries on a wholesale, per order basis.

As usual, I suffer from bad timing -this is probably the worst year to put such a scheme into play...more than ever, galleries will soon experience the "utility" effect: if it can be seen by the consumer as practical, then it might have a chance of being sold. Otherwise, it will be only at the odd time that artwork gets sold. Good luck to me and to all those who rely on their hands to make a living.

painting

Exhausted-after three hours of painting-and writing about it only because I did something I actually like. Finished the painting? You gotta be kidding.
The amount of choices in picking up a brush and putting it to a canvas are endless. I'm gutsy enough to put on a first layer of color and a few lines, but after that, all hell seems to break loose. Any sense of satisfaction and completion goes out the window. The "correct" forms, lines and colors I obliterate to a perceived better painting is sickening-wish I could store some of these away in a box...but this isn't possible. But still, some of the stuff that gets swabbed over-it's really sad. Bits and pieces of great work, usually followed by something not even close to adequate.
Good painters make putting a great painting together look effortless. I have always stood in awe and..to some degree...jealousy. Guess it's a blessing to feel like I know my way around some of the 3D stuff I work with-don;t get on my case, now, I'm not declaring myself a genius just yet.

"How hard could it be?" I use this phrase to cajol myself into yet another attempt at making a painting. Here I am at home (I don't paint at the studio because... A) it's too damn distracting as I always have several sculptural pieces in progress B) I haven't turned the heat in the studio on yet-this morning I worked in gloves) wasting paint. I use the phrase with pleasure-coming from a frugal-thinking father who told me "a little dab of paint goes a long way", I need to gush out paint like blood from a sucking chest wound-cathartic, therapeutic, whatever words you want to use: it's good to use up paint. Make mistakes.

I turn the canvas (I work fairly small and the work stays flat-no easel) around and around, until the painting finds a direction, its own up and down. Most of the work starts out non-objective, but today a figure emerged from a vague tracery of paint and forms - just like one of those ads for gadgets on late night TV: "the Miracle Painter...it takes your creative mess and turns it-as if by magic-into a masterpiece...just add 3 AA batteries. Only $19.95, plus shipping and handling..." This seemed a good turn-something I like-good, because the past two days your truly has been hitting no creative homers or even singles. Ok, so the painting may be a little too Basquiat, but it still has merit.

Of course, now it's the following morning. The paint is a bit drier and the painting doesn't have the same excitement....already I can see where I need to do some work on it (and hopefully not kill whatever spirit it had last night)...

I guess what's left is the fact that if I worked at this painting thing, I could get better. But right now, there is sheer excitement-both elation and tragedy-in the act-if you consider process to be the most important thing about making art, it doesn't get better (or worse) than this!

Photograph of shop sign in Cordova, New Mexico.

Choking on the Splinters

I might be selling the studio. This is because, financially, we need to tighten up in case neither of us can get work in the upcoming months. Cara will have more of a problem than I will, but that's because she earns a little more than the $10 an hour jobs I've gotten lately.

In an effort to reduce the bulk in the studio, I took advantage of our county Saturday "special" and brought a van-load full of wood and miscellany to the dump yesterday.

Cathartic is the operative word here. For about three hours, I didn't stop moving for all the stuff I brought to the van. So much of what I threw out will truly not be missed-there's no need to think about replacing it as it truly was extra. In all probability, I'll have several more loads like this before I really get down to the material that counts-the stuff that I need or know that I can use, but need to chuck just because it's so heavy to move (the plan is to erect a pre-fab double garage on the property) or to damn bulky to store. Peel away the rougher layers and that's when the pain starts.

There is true security in having all this stuff around me-an ability to always work for the surplus of "raw" material. But I so like collecting it all...this topic is one that I've had countless times with friends and strangers-just why do people like to collect?

I always claim to be hard-wired for it because of my Dad, who still, at 87, grabs anything that's free and not nailed down-you can see true regret in his eye for those items too impractical to glom...but isn't this the same as the person who blames everyone else so as to never directly address the issue? I don't need to enter a 12-step program on this (Cara might disagree), but it is a curious phenomenon-especially now that I'm "facing the music" in "cleaning" up my space.

I hope to have a studio "Show and Sale" in three weeks-and trying to make the space somewhat presentable is going to take some time-we aren't talking "dust bunnies", but "dust porcupines" here...it's gonna be a big job!

I actually threw out a sculpture in the mix yesterday-this got me to thinking about what happens after someone dies. Bit by bit, the objects that defined their life are either dispersed (charities, relatives, house sales) and the most sentimental objects are preserved, like symbols, by those that want to remember them the most. Eventually, these people pass on as well and even the retained sentimental objects lose their meaning and go to the trash or for sale.

I never meant to leave so many markers behind. But in thinking about what will remain after I die, I'm amazed. In my role as an artist, I've placed a lot of stuff on this earth and plenty of people have this stuff. Am I famous? I don't think so, but there is a high level of regard for what I've done, to the point where I get paid to do it. Not one for false modesty, I stand in awe of this. I mean, I have to do this stuff-there is no choice involved (being creative-or whatever you'd like to call what I am- is a blessing and a curse). I didn't start out thinking that I'd make money on it.... I create mostly from scratch and people buy my work and give it a place of respect in their homes. It's an honor which sometimes boils down to being just a procedure or a business. But , still the whole scope of this thing is mind-boggling. It is a gift-not one without some hitches and problems, but a gift nonetheless. So who do I thank?

a) Thanks to Beck Hanson for my title and his engaging poetry.
b) This one is called "The Handseller" and is an older work-I'm running out of "good" photos to put on the blog-I have LOTS of new work since I went to my photographer, all shot with my camera and all looking like snapshots. Soon you will be experiencing some of this fine photography!