An Allowance

I'll assume that no one is reading this.
I just looked at some of my older work -I had to put it on disks, as there is simply no better way to store it-it is hard to believe that I've done all that I've done. sure, I came across a few "dogs" (pardon me, Johnny, Sharkie, Chopper, Delilah , Rhonda), but I can't even remember so much of what I've done!
There are simply too many sculptures. To think that this all started when I left NYC, which is now a few years back. I wonder what I would have accumulated if I hadn't spent all those years there spinning my wheels (actually, I still have some of that work-I did all these lil' topographic models painted with WWII camouflage...).
I'll go back to being modest real soon, but seeing all these forgotten pieces (and I only looked at 3 disks) impressed the hell out of me. And here's the thing:  I want to do so much more-I'm still thinking that I'll always know that I had a good life if I die having loads of projects waiting to be done...al out of this brain-or wherever the stuff comes from.

Just a couple of pieces here, maybe bad photos, but still all from this hand...

Thinking about painting and painting surfaces

In the last missive, I spoke about a recent painted piece. 

I used a partially finished wooden head to paint on and realized (then and now) that this was a device to make it easier to start the painting-that is, the act of picking up a brush, unscrewing the top from the tube of oil paint and applying the color-there was no other more complex forethought or planned design preceding the pigment to surface.
Although first happy with the painting, I now know I was really more happy with the act of painting and using the color and brush. I now think the painting mediocre-or maybe the notion that, in combination with the sculptural "crutch", it is all the more interesting...

S'pose I need a good healthy "starter" in order to paint-although I love the idea of the big stretched canvas, I seem to be allergic to all that white stuff AND the vast stretch of open space it holds. Painting it all with a tint or even black helps, but not all that much.
I'll digress and try to draw an analogy here: when I was a child and MUCH more shy and withdrawn than I am today, I used to occasionally sit on the porch of my family's suburban house in NJ. If I heard someone approaching (a concrete sidewalk told all) from down the block, I'd go around to the back of the house and get out of sight. This shyness also took over when a car passed by-I'd find some excuse to look down or away during the second or two it took the vehicle to pass. So here's the analogue: big, white open spaces = fear for the exposed me. Maybe it's too far to reach, but since I've battled with painting all my life, no rock remains unturned. I realize that doing a painting exercise every day (read, facing that big  white surface daily) would get me over this problem, but I'm far too impatient for this-and, there is a lot of 3D work to get done.

Yesterday,in the studio, I hunted for another "crutch" surface on which to paint. It brought to mind my father, who had the problem of never starting his work-when cleaning out the family house after his death, I found tons of "practice" painting and carving-the most worthless scrap would serve as a staging area for him-yet he left behind -untouched- so much in the way of usable paper and canvas surfaces and carvable pieces of wood. There was a certain sadness in seeing just how tentative/insecure he was, but this is another story.

To a certain degree, I see myself looking for "partially started" surfaces-that is, combining my father's idea of permitting himself to use the "worthless" or the throw away on which to work- and trying to get something that is already marked up- an almost started canvas or bit of wood surface-ideally something that "nature" or circumstances has "worked" on in order to continue that work with my own hand.

I suppose that this is not unlike some of my sculptural work, which incorporates time-worn bits from the world with my own carvings and scribblings.

Something new?

I've been running up a few new sculptures on my Facebook page, but this one is still in the formative stage-or, should I say, it's an older pc that I felt never hit quite right.
Two days ago, I thought of covering the pc in tin, but I resisted and slathered it with modeling paste. Then yesterday, I dragged out oil paint and this was the result. I don't love it, but I don't hate it either. I hope that I can say that there is more coming and really mean it. The surface was really hard to start painting onto-my thoughts at the moment was that I was going to leave the studio unhappy (to have messed up a potentially decent sculpture with a covering of stuff that would have to dry before I could do anything to change it.  How locked in I am with making stuff that works...that is crowd-pleasing---there's no way I can call myself brave or self-challenging-but in this instance I feel like I made a momentary break-away.
Starting with a black base (it was white-modeling paste-hours before I started this pc), I added and swept bits of paint across, trying to keep my mind fairly blank-or, more to the point concentrating ONLY on the paint and the action of my brush. I added white liberally and rubbed out some areas back to black where I felt the paint was becoming a field. Later, I scraped away both paint and base to uncover the white undersurface. I was conscious of "doodling" with the brush- almost as if i were on the phone and scribbling away. Anyhow, the experience was pretty energizing. My thoughts for the future is to make up a "different" surface (i.e., not a canvas or rectangle shape) on which to do some more "doodling"...

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Hands

Guess I'm showing my age and that age is affecting my work. I have been reducing the amount of carving I'm doing lately-I love to carve wood, but the truth be told, it hurts my hands like crazy.
S'pose it's the arthritis factor (I thought arthritis did not exist here in the SouthWest-seems as if anything, It's gotten much worse out here) that has made me turn to modeling.
I've been using modeling paste with pretty favorable results and have combined this in turning to an old medium that I've always battled: oil paint.
Strange to now have an answer for folks that ask me about the move out here to New Mexico.
"So how do you think it has affected your work?"
Eventually, I feel that I'll get a little bolder with both the paint and the paste. When I first started making armatures, I made one that was pretty wild-using nylon twine and loose wire on a wooden base (in order to have something to nail/staple to)...I'm still looking at that one, almost in awe of its rawness. Today, I actually filled in some of the bigger holes on the thing. But it is still pretty wild and way out of character for lil' ol' me. Most of my other armatures have been your basic head shape, with nuances created more by the medium and the fact that I can't control it too rigidly...
I'm loathe to think about painting this thing that I s'pose is a head-thing is, I don't want to "tame" it-there is no need to recreate it unless I do something that is just as spontaneous. Of course, by definition, it woludn't/couldn't be the same.
The modeling paste heads I've created in the aftermath of this first piece certainly have a touch that is different from my carved heads, but they are certainly much less under control. How to retain that degree of spontaneity and still know WTF you are doing...or not doing...
Here is the first one-the crazy one-a "work in progress"...and a more finished head, painted with oil (also a work in progress)...

Man is the only animal whose desires increase as they are fed; the only animal that is never satisfied. (Henry George)

And so it is with yours truly. 

The feeling of stagnation and some kind of a depression have crept over me. I can attribute some of this to the fact that I've been so out of touch with other artists or at least with discussions about art (and the dissatisfaction-read, the constant struggle- it brings to me)...

Looking around my studio, only a few pieces stand out for me as those not coming from the hands of a hack.

Don't get me wrong-at the same time, I find very little work by others "out there" that shows me work or hard, true thought...and, of course, those I consider to be worthy peers are creating wonderful masterpieces next to the trash that issues from my hand.

Guston wrote "Sometimes I scrape off a lot. You have on the floor, like cow dung in the field, this big glob of paint... and it's just a lot of inert matter, inert paint. Then I look back at the canvas, and it's not inert - it's active, moving and living. "

I'm missing this-I need that stuff that gets left on the canvas-all that I've got is the cow dung. Am I not working hard enough? Or am I just going through the motions, working being like breathing-or worse, like sleeping? Just because those arms and legs are moving (and making things) does not mean that any sort of good work is present...or that I am actually engaged and/or thinking. Some days it seems as though my ability to run on automatic is, well, automatic.

All this dissatisfaction can act like a springboard, but I am becoming suspicious of these sorts of knee-jerk reactions in that they may only keep the machine going, leaving the mind behind (perhaps to deal with the to-do items or the grocery list).

How do I ensure use of all my facilities/faculties?

How do I keep thinking (really thinking)?

I have a great ability to re-channel my (abstract) thinking into the practical and in this process, there is loss...I almost want to say that when two and two stop adding up to four(when the real risky stuff might start) , I (automatically) switch back to easier thought. Like all those folks out there who choose the light and happy over anything requiring real contemplation...("I don't want a Holiday in the sun...")

Perhaps I don't have the capacity to take things further. I've always had the desire to be several things other than what I am-for instance, a good painter (I can't get past the three-dimensional) and a good thinker (I see myself as only two or three baby steps past "duh").

Signed,
I'm not satisfied