Sunday, January 27, 2013
1. excitement about getting started
2. buying lots of materials I don't really need
3. putting off getting started
4. more putting off getting started
5. getting anxious
6. getting depressed
7. wondering what the purpose of my art making is all about anyway
8. coming up with reasons not to start
9. coming up with reasons not to be an artist
10. crying and making my husband worry about my mental health
11. getting started
It's such a leap of faith. For one thing, I have no conscious idea of where I'm going, what I will be doing, or what I will end up with. I have lots of ideas that I've gathered since the last time I worked, and it comforts me to collect those ideas and write them down, to assure myself that I do have some direction and purpose( of course, 99% of those ideas will fall by the wayside once I get started). All of this obfuscating is a pathetic attempt on my part not to have to go into the fire, not to have to struggle and be lost, not to have to feel chaotic and confused. But mostly it's about not wanting to surrender, to turn myself over to that power that I don't have any control over. And even though I always know that this force, when I finally give over to it, allows me be the very best I can be, I still have a terrible time letting go. It finally just boils down to faith, and trusting that once I get started, all will be okay.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
|Pieces for the cover|
|Paper Mache eggs after being painted and crackled|
|Lid after being crackled|
|Prepping the basket|
|Outside of basket|
I don't like doing benefits, and I don't like doing auctions. As artists, we are constantly being asked to donate work for causes, good and not so good. We receive nothing in return, usually not even the name of the person who bought our piece for the benefit, and when there are rules and limits attached, I get even more annoyed. That being said, I decided to say no, which of course didn't take into account my creative self. That creative self was intrigued: a basket, eggs, a bird. Hmmmmm. Interesting. And so I was hooked. I planned most of it, which is something I almost never do, and I was pleased that I could actually kind of call the shots. The "eggs" are paper mache rocks made by my good friend and artist Laurie Tumer, http://www.laurietumer.com/ given to me years ago when Laurie was getting rid of stuff. The bird was loosely based on another image I had done called "Bad Eggs" http://hollyrobertsonepaintingatatime.blogspot.com/2012/01/bad-eggs-2009.html. It seemed right for this cause and this particular picnic basket.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
In December of this year I was invited to give a workshop in Oaxaca, Mexico at the Museum of Contemporary Art (MACO). I hadn't been to Mexico in years, and was reminded how much I loved the Mexican people-their warmth, their humor and their openness. I was also reminded of how much I have been influenced by Mexican Folk Art.
In Oaxaca I found a number of little paintings on aluminum and bought seven($6 each). Based very loosely on the Mexican Retablo, a Latin American devotional painting, they are humorous, often sexual, and truly wonderful, all six inches by five inches, hung with a piece of heavy thread from a small nail hole in the metal. They are where I want to go with my own work: essential, honest, and simply painted with no fuss or muss. I love the loosely painted yellow background on the slick metal surface with the overpainting of the bossy little skeleton wrestler . Red, black, and white-how much simpler can you get? In real life, the Mexican wrestlers wear masks much like the one our little skeleton is wearing, so he is able to be both a "real" skeleton and a "real" wrestler at the same time. And finally, what a great life message, "don't give up in the first fall". Truly words to live by.