Hi friends!
I spent a glorious weekend dirtying my hands in the wood shop at ORK, building the frames for my next painting project. I owe a debt of gratitude to Elwin Bradshaw for making this possible, and for taking the time to cut all that damn timber. We’ve got about 30 frames total and an extraordinarily ambitious deadline which, if survived, should make for an at least interesting exhibition come spring.
In other news, I was interviewed for three-page spread in the March issue of BLIKK. If you’re in Norway you can check out the interview plus a flagrant misrepresentation of the frequency with which I draw female breasts.
In an attempt to bridge the cognitive gap between traditional painting and photoshop manipulation, I’ve been experimenting with Corel Painter 11. I hadn’t done much with it since the days when I was in school, but I am finding the feel of traditional media in a digital space to be quite riveting. I’ve been doing many of my recent projects using the 30 day trial software in an effort to convince my employer to buy it, but so far I haven’t gotten much of a response.
> Self. Corel Painter 11 and Adobe Photoshop CS4, 20 x 30 cm @300 dpi, 2010
Hello again. Some of you might have noticed I’ve been away for a while. You may call it a spirit quest, you may call it an identity crisis, you may call it cowardice. Whichever name you tack onto it, my website and I went through a necessary disaffiliation and our relationship is now stronger as a result.
I spent the better part of last month working, destroying paintings, pondering the complexities of human existence. All of this was in an effort to determine how my “identity” reflects in my work, why I do what I do, and why the things that inspire me, inspire me. When I was done I realized that, at the very core, what I like to do is draw. I feel this perverse obligation to identify as an “illustrator” based on the need for commercial recognition and financial security, but I don’t get the same thing out of it that I do with pen to paper, alone in the studio. At work I sit at a desk in front of a machine all day, and everything I do is a conversation between me and this piece of hardware. The end product may be technically good, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. The endgame is someone else’s endgame.
So I draw that line in the sand. I’m always making something, but at work I do the things I have to do to keep others happy. At home, I do my own thing. It’s a commitment, but worthwhile, and advantageous to be able to recognize that divide early on: that you can do commercial work, and you can also leave the time and space for yourself to be an artist in the truest sense.
For me, every drawing I make is a question. Hanging them, sharing them with others, is an attempt at finding some answers. I may never get those answers, but it doesn’t stop me from asking them. My hope is that maybe by the time I’m dead, I’ll have a better understanding of the world I’ve left behind, and others will have some insight into who I am based on the work I’ve done. That’s all anybody really wants: to be recognized for their relevance in the world.
> “No, I’m just an ordinary walrus. But I get that all the time.” ballpoint pen, 2010