Wednesday, April 11, 2007

"Contemplation" - a freestyle of sorts....

Stop the masses....Behind rose colored glasses I see reality as I have made it. Strange realization in the distance the cloud of resitance never can quell this persitence to break through the pestilance swarming my mind to the point that I can not find what is, infact, right in front of me. Take it on the run I carry this gun, with Napalm fun I slaughter the soldier barackading my inner peace. Whisper thoughts of distaster into my ear that which I dare not admitt to fear, always stear clear yet find myself in it's haunting gaze none the less.

What has happened to the last dog of war, barked up the wrong tree long before I could settle the score, shoot straight to the core and find the door to eternity. Tattered, torn, and worn, I blindly work my way through myself to the site I was born or reborn perhaps, over land mines passed subconscious signs in the confines of my soul. Where did it lead me? Could it have ever really freed me? Has anyone in here seen me...broken party of one, call on line none, tell tale sign of what is to come.

But what is to be found, a shadow of redemption without a sound of pretention I present myself for scrutiny and inspection. Rose colored glasses lay broken on the ground and with thorns crowned I martyr myself to my inner demons. Strung from the gallows, read my last rights I set my sites off in the distance to sleepless nights when the sun couldn't rise without a tear shed from the eyes of she who is bound now in these ties.

Without trial straight to execution, retribution approaches to heed the call before my last fall from which out of the depths I'd be forced to crawl. Reason for being is what I am now seeing, darkness parts freeing me from the confines of self-consecration and the degredation of an entire inner nation.

Who is he that holds my hand now, leads me away from the hell I would allow? Follow the swallow far from the sorrow, take me to the light that envelopes the night I had endured for so long. No need to run with the gun any longer, except to protect my heart that straight from the start fell where I didn't expect it to fall....

Three



Monday, April 9, 2007

Heat

The death of inspiration




Wow. With the click of a single image inspiration has been thrown right out the window and utter confusion has stepped in to fill the void over what could have ever possessed Cecily Brown, one of my greatest inspirations, to give up on being the incredible entity she once was.

Now I know this is entirely subjective and many might think the monstrosity above to be a shining example of "high art". Yet to me, an artist who was first inspired by Brown's early work as a sophomore in college in 2002 and was so taken by the seductive complexity, clever sexual puns and in your face provocation of her creations that to gaze upon the work above with its sloppy execution, muddy palette, and predictable and overdone subject matter I feel like the child realizing for the first time Santa Claus is a figment of the imagination. And that just sucks.

We've seen it before. The legendary tales of Picasso's utter arrogance, signing a blank piece of paper and telling creditors that should suffice. And the awful stick figures...artists giving up for all intensive purposes because they lost sight of their craft and only saw dollar signs in the value of their names and not the work they produced. Of course Picasso took several decades to get to that point.

So what's Brown's excuse? Already had her fill of being "revolutionary"? Her work only really broke out into the art scene less than a decade ago...is that all it takes? Nearly 10 years and enough collectors with deep enough pockets and you lose sight of why you painted in the first place? A master in her own mind. Hit the pinnacle before she's even given it much of a chance.

There is no excuse....

There is such a thing as "selling out" in the art world. And I don't mean painting what the masses, Forbes, and Art in America deem to be hot commodities. I mean becoming so self-involved and diluted you actually believe anything you create should be revered and will be the talk of Sotheby's. Oh...and thanks Gagosian Gallery for being so pretentious that you actually snatched up the above piece like it's something to truly be proud of. The celebration of mediocrity. Maybe for a lesser artist that piece would be an accomplishment, but it should atleast be aknowledged that Brown has taken several steps back in the artistic journey.

That should not be celebrated. It should be pittied.




Summer Field

Thursday, April 5, 2007

At the end of the day....

So I'm sitting here at nearly midnight trying to take it easy after a long day of running around, dealing with a nasty landlord who has every excuse why he hasn't gotten a mason over to my building since September to address the bricks falling from above my main entrance to the sidewalk, spring cleaning, rearanging, school obligations for the little one, and the dual stomachache/ headache thing I've got going on. And I'm sitting here thinking. I feel exhausted and awake. I didn''t have a chance to do my hair through the chaos today. Walked around in my skuzzy clothing because that's all the time I had to myself.

I feel...cracked.

I know everyone has those days. But it just seems real evident to me *today*. My eyes sting. My neck aches. My back burns. My heels are pulsating. My right leg is halfway asleep. I got it all done...I always get it all done. But at the end of it all I feel so...unfeminine (is that even a word?)

I suppose that is one of the reasons for my nudes...they are the height of femininity. Buxom. Gorgeous. Physical perfection to the point of near Barbie doll-esque dysmorphia. They at the end of the day are all I feel I am not, even if my feelings are unwarranted. They are on their way somewhere, constant and never ending, and they are frozen in their supreme beauty on that journey.



Yeah.

"Contemplations on Being a Woman"


From my "Contemplations on Being a Woman" series begun in 2003 while I was pregnant with my son, "Exposure" (currently available at my Etsy shop is the newest addition to this ever growing, ever popular series of work. This almost iconic representation of the female nude that has presented herself in over 100 of my paintings to date has become almost a signature of mine.

She does not confront the viewer or even aknowlege their presence - we as the viewers walk through her abstracted reality with her through the 4 sides of the canvas, becoming part of the scene for as long as we choose. I love this series - it was my first "project" so to speak. It was in response to the hormonal mess that was me, 5 months pregnant with my little boy, just trying to figure out what was going on within the confines of my own mind. Since then I have painted this scene over and over, different settings, different company, different moods...all in an attempt at getting to know my role as woman, mother, individual, and mere entity among many....

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

mARTyr

Lofty censorship of personal opinion and individual contemplation of spiritual, religious, and political beliefs...at the end of the day all that is censored in such a manner is censored based upon more individual opinions and personal beliefs. What it must be like to be “right” eternally...such a heavy burden to prove others wrong because your opinion is the only one that counts.

Subjectivity breeds irony.

Smear some shit on an international icon, crown her with female genitalia and watch the masses label you a modern day heretic. Burn him at the stake that free-thinking heathen, or better yet toss him in the Hudson River with weights tied to his ankles...perhaps his opinions will rise through the murky depths and arrive cleansed and pure at the surface and he shall be martyred.

The truth be thy word.

Crusade against the tools of the trade and the images brought forth by them. Draw and quarter the canvas. Tar and feather the camera. Dust off the Iron Maiden and christen it with the clay that might have become a less then worthy idol at the hands of, God forbid, an individual whose creative vision might be contrary to your own. Stain it with alizarin crimson and make an example out of it. Set it on a pedestal in a public square and condemn what it “might have” become.

The stage has been set.

Watch la resistance plague the lesson with the demon that is the opposing viewpoint. After all, to be right is to be wrong in at least one others mind. Fresh, plump, ripe tomatoes tossed at a tangible statement , pulp the hue of the indignation pumping through the veins of the “morally stunted”. Riot in the square...the gallows await your arrival.

How dare they defy the example set? For your word is the only word. The truth shall set them free...

Who is the martyr now?

Outsider Art - the great misunderstanding

The debate on outsider art and the terms usage in auctions and the art world in general is about as interesting as two cars crossing the double yellow lines and careening into one another head on. No lie, I've seen that sort of mess and it's pretty damn ugly for a few minutes and then somebody realizes how stupid they were and sits in the middle of the road with their head in their hands shaking of shock and embrassement, hoping no one noticed their folly.

People get so offended when the term outsider is used - they think of themselves as "true" outsiders and people who have any sort of education pertaining to art certainly can't be "outsider" artists. Well, too bad these people who feel this way don't have that education or even the basic knowledge to back up their thoughts on the matter or they would see that in their literal take on the term outsider they fail to see the irony in the fact that they themselves can't be "outsider" artists either and are arguing moot points in reality.

In their fight to champion their "outsider" status they only reveal that their basic understanding of outsider art is non-existent. In the truest sense and definition, an outsider artist is either a recluse or locked away in a mental institution, devoid of any and all social contact. The synopsis of true outsider art maintains that the true outsider artist neither sells their creations nor has a real grasp on the fact that it is being sold in the first place.

Cast your mind: Mountain Man Joe scribbles and sketches flora and fauna in between sapping maple trees and shooting a pheasant for dinner with his trusty 22. His niece Daisy visits him every few months and good ole' uncle Joe gives her a sketch or two for the muffins she baked for him and so generously hiked 3 miles to give to him. Daisy reads in the newspaper a few weeks later that "Outsider" art is highly sought after by the aristocratic debutantes and eccentrics who long for conversational pieces for their foyers and dens and are willing to pay top dollar to wow their friends with such work. Daisy, who has found herself under a mountain of bills for *insert social dysfunction here* decides to sell the Mountain Man's work to a New York Gallery who in turn sells these poorly executed, childish creations to the above mentioned "social elite".

And the outsider artist is born.... At least by pure definition. Uncle Joe who owns absolutely no books besides his atlas and dropped out of school at age 13 without any art education to speak of (macaroni and glitter decorated holiday cards and clay ashtrays aside) continues to scribble cartoonish Bambis and Thumpers without the slightest idea that his work has been featured in Art in America twice. See what I mean?

Thus the outsider status has actually emerged as more a style than a lifestyle. And when people go on and on about those horrible artists with them there edjumacations they only illustrate further their lack of understanding of the history behind, and evolution of, outsider art. The interpretations of "outsider art" are as widespread and open ended as any debate that includes strong personal opinions and nothing more than a few facts lifted from here and there to validate a perceived understanding or lack thereof.

So, in keeping with this tradition, I will quote Michel Thevoz, Curator of the Collection de l'Art Brut in Lausanne:


"Art Brut", or "outsider art", consists of works produced by people who for various reasons have not been culturally indoctrinated or socially conditioned. They are all kinds of dwellers on the fringes of society. Working outside fine art "system" (schools, galleries, museums and so on), these people have produced, from the depths of their own personalities and for themselves and no one else, works of outstanding originality in concept, subject and techniques. They are works which owe nothing to tradition or fashion.

Now, if this is a generally accepted definition of "outsider art" then can anyone who sells their work through ebay or on the internet in general be defined outsider artists? If representing one's work and offering it to the masses in a realm surrounded by creations of all educational levels, isn't there an inherent influence obtained through marketing and selling around such works? So I guess the argument then becomes where the invisible boundary line exists between the culturally aware, highly educated and gallery represented artist and the weekend hobbyist whose artistic influences include Thomas Kinkaide tapestries and Norman Rockwell calendars at the doctors office. Is there a boundary to speak of? If both artists sell side by side in a venue such as ebay, are the distinctions between these too so clear? Are they black and white really? I would think that the hobbyist who sells on ebay would browse around and become subject to any number of works created by highly educated artists. And if we look back at the definition above provided by an individual who has obviously invested a good portion of his career in the attempt to understand and interpret outsider art, can we then deduce that the hobbyist has obtained a certain amount of understanding pertaining to art and sells in a virtual auction style art gallery and therefore can be no more categorized an "outsider artist" than the formally trained artist selling an auction listing away?

Have we not just spun around in a complete circle and ended right back where we started? Perhaps, but I have yet to pose the biggest question on my mind on the subject.

Why do people care so much about the keywords used by artists in an attempt to obtain the same goals as one another - sell the work and make a living at something they love? I guess it all goes back to perceived competition as I have mentioned time and again is the thorn in the creative side of the ebay arts community. No where else will you find artists debating so heavily and passionately about the implied and literal usage of a single term that has no clear cut definition anymore.

Artists themselves rearranged the clear cut definition eons ago as far as the internet and ebay goes and recreated the understanding of what outsider art is, and can be. Artists themselves defined it as more than the sterile thought that outsider art could only be created by a madman or hermit on the extreme "fringes" of society. Or what of the definition that states outsider art is nothing more than art created by those who do not recognize themselves as artists? Well, those that toot their own outsider status and poo poo on the educated who choose to associate their style with that of the "outsider" should take a long hard look at themselves and rethink whether they want to confront that catch 22 with a response....

New Florals and a note to patrons


I'm working on a new line of impasto, expressionistic florals such as "Secret Garden II" (left). There are 4 so far in this new series with plenty more to come. They are being sold exclusively on my Etsy.com website.

Also wanted to let my patrons know how much I truly appreciate your patronage! I am offering goodies here and there - 20% off to first time purchases and random participation in Etsy's Friday Happy Hour and Saturday Night Specials worth 15-25% off original art from my shop!

Thank you again for everything, it means to world!!!