“modern art” is very controversial
you realize this when you create alot of it
I just had lunch with a math professor that I interpret for
I explained to him that I’m trying to get rid of my paintings
so I offered him one.
his reply was,
“oh no no thats ok, I find it hard to appreciate art like that”
I didn’t take offense at all, he was perfectly honest, which I like
but!!!! I have two questions to ask regarding that statement.
1) what is “art like that?” What makes some art “modern”?
and 2) why is it such a love or hate relationship?
some people love it, and others. . . have a hard time finding the art value in it.
will this remain just one of those mysteries?
Here’s an awesome sand painting my Mum did recently at white sands! Check it eh. . . moral of the story? Art is not confined to a studio.
I paint extremely unconventionally. . . and I feel free because of it. Its kind of like minimalism. . . just as a sense of freedom is attained by stripping the self of possessions, I feel that artistic “freedom” can be attained by creating whatever it is that you feel like creating, whatever way you want to create it! So here’s a list of random favorite rules to bend and break in no particular order. . .
– Prime Just say no! I like the way watered down acrylic soaks into the texture of raw canvas.
– Mrs. Prentice’s Classical Music Bjork is! appropriate for the classroom
– Work Alone Collaboration can help you find your identity as an artist. Network! Blog! Connect!
– Learn From The Greats There’s more inspiration on the street than in a museum
– Focus daydream. . . lots
– Brushes he he, so restricting
– Painting Clothes. . . nah, (my wardrobe hates me)
– Hobby lobby Canvas make your own!!!! And use random scraps of clothes, its green and cheap which is also green, but in an entirely different way
– Canvas In General– paint on ur walls!!!!
-photo by Dario
Those of you who know me well know I’m into quite a few things. . . I’ve gone through quite a few stages. . . Painting, writing, sketching, photography, blogging, biking, running, sewing, dancing, crocheting, . . . lots of stuff.
The reason being because I like alot of things. I see something, it interests me and I think hey! I could do that. . . Now it doesn’t happen out of a sense of wanting to be good at everything. . . like a competitive spirit of wanting to dominate all facets of what my brain might be capable of . . . In fact its quite the opposite cuz I know more than anybody that these projects that I start usually . . . and I say usually cuz sometimes I’m proved wrong, but usually I don’t stay on one subject long enough to do it “well.”
This is why half of my paintings are unfinished, why you can see white thread in the seams of my grey suit, and why I still don’t know Spanish. You see, I’m culturally ADD. I have a problem. Call it ADD, call it lack of focus, call it lack of dedication, call it whatever you want. . . the fact of the matter is I start lots and lots of projects, but only finish a select few. And I love it as much as I hate it.
So recently, in preparation of my inevitable move north, I’ve been going through alot of my things and getting rid of the unwanted and/or useless crapola that I’ve somehow accumulated in my year of living here . . . its ridiculous. . . seriously . . . However! Doing so brought to mind a painting I saw at an art show early in the summer and forgot to post. Oh how this statement rings true.
I have loved to paint for as long as I can remember. . . I specifically remember as a kid running my fingers along the paper and into the paint. Feeling the cool slipperiness contrast with the rough texture of the paper, in what seemed like an epic battle of good and evil, love and hate, rich and poor. . . for some reason feeling the goop between my fingers gave me a sense of lack of control, a sense that I absolutely adored. . . I could manipulate what couldn’t be manipulated in a sense, without manipulating it. Tame the untamable without taming it. . . u see by breaking the rules that didn’t apply to me yet I felt a sense of freedom. . . I’m not sure what it was or how to describe it, but it just somehow became my outlet. . . from a very early age. I could somehow take the complexity of my human emotion and translate it into something people could see. . .something visual . . . something not in my head, but out of my heart.
So today my friend who is about 12 years old came up to me smiling, and in his hands an abstract watercolor that he did just for me. . . I coudn’t help but smile, a very big smile. Because deep down I know that the painting thats now on my wall was as much for him as it was for me. I don’t know why he did it or what he was feeling at the time. . . but I know that he was able to take what was in his heart and create with it, and that my friends is something beautiful 🙂