I'm starting to feel like an artist. Isn't that odd? And wonderful? I've been making art in some form for most of my life yet it is only recently that colours and forms and visions are starting to permeate my imagination and my dreams. And my meditations. Colours like sky blue and tan which doesn't sound exciting now but made such a rich tapestry in my imagination. Another time it was a storm coloured sea of black greens and livid sulphurous yellow streaked with aqua that filled that infinite space between my ears. Paintings are everywhere. Driving home from yoga and there was another one; the pale ghostly fingers of gum trees diminishing in the gathering darkness of an infinite road dotted with amber reflectors. It was such a lonely sight. Could I paint it? No. I have never matched the work to the imagination.
In my last post I wrote about the clarity and artistic vision of children, something I would like to emulate and now I only want to become a better techinician. What I see and what I reproduce are two entirely different critters. Have fixative sprayed the last work, the Suspended Man. I'll do some re-highlighting, a little touching up but for the most part it is finished. And how far from what I saw in my mind's eye it is. That is because I still don't have the technical skills. However I don't think that necessarily prevents me from being an artist.
Saw a painting of a man by Van Gogh done early in his career. The man had none of that magic evident in Van Gogh's later work. But he was learning. He had to be awkward and stiff and clumsy. It was part of the journey. He allowed himself to do things badly knowing that with practice and diligence he would improve. And boy, did he ever!
Was searching for Toowoomba Art Gallery's next show and saw that it was entitled Imagine You Know. Imagine You Know is to showcase up and coming local and regional artists. (I've got butterflies just contemplating writing the next sentence). So I thought I'd download their registration form and see if perhaps I might possibly enter one or two paintings. (Egad! Just writing that is making me feel slightly ill.)
Well, that's okay. I've just read the entry guide and it is far far too complicated for me. Works having to meet certain size standards, with particular ways of hanging required (no string, thank you), photos put on CD Roms, written explanations of why the works should be accepted within the curatorial guidelines set out by TRAG (Toowoomba Regional Art Gallery) as well as a curriculum vitae. I'm much too lazy for all that.
There are hundreds of thousands of artists who can do all that without blinking an eye. Makes me want to cry just thinking of it. Makes it all too serious. I'm much too fragile (oh, can't believe it but I still feel like crying) to subject myself to all that 'stuff'. Deep breath. Okay, I'll do art for the reasons I've always done art; because I like making something that wasn't there before. Because I have an idea and think it would be fun interesting necessary (like breathing) to try and bring it out into the 'real' world.
That part of me that wanted to cry just then. I've never looked too closely at that. It is the same part that howled with frustration when I couldn't learn how to balance a chequebook. Must be tied in with my idea of myself conflicting wih the reality. And something to do with work. I'll work very hard at things I enjoy but just thinking of the frustration to be experienced with organizing everything, especially the computer stuff and paying someone to frame things at the same time of not knowing whether my work is good enough. I just want someone to walk in one day and say, Wow, your work is fabulous! Where have you been hiding? But it doesn't happen like that. People put a lot of time and effort to get their work out there. Hell, I'm barely able to put a photo on the blog. Just tried with The Suspended Man and failed. Why I find it so hard to download things then find them then do something with them is beyond me. Anyway, enough for today. I'm done. It's killing the happy.
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