After my earlier post about blogs as sketchbooks (or after that seemed to generate a relative lot of traffic), I started thinking a little about the role sketching plays in my own process. In the inevitable periods when I don’t seem to accomplish much art making – and when I get really desperate for a kick start -I go looking through my computer for any little thing I can remake into something I’m willing to call “Art”. So, then, then… there’s all this stuff just waiting quietly in poorly named folders all over my hard drive and I realize I’ve been doing tons of work. It’s just doesn’t feel like art until it becomes a concrete object.
So, I make something. And, the ink jet transfer + patterns in gouache I’ve been doing lately only take a few hours to make. And… then I have art and can feel good about not allowing my life to be subsumed by the pedagogy of unappreciative community collegians. The thing is though, that most of those art works saw their beginnings months, sometimes years prior.
I went through my hard drive and assembled image files of non-(finished)art I made and the finished works they evolved into. I made no attempt to represent size or chronology, as ideas often take sharp turns, and sometimes, yeah, finished work isn’t big.
Fathers of the Rebellion
All in Line