February 03, 2011

Thorazine Thursday: a Flashback



I ripped the post title from Carla, but what else does one do when feeling unoriginal? Why, post images of art from the early days, that's what. I don't think I posted these before, but if I did, indulge me. I may have stated this before but out of about 75+ artworks, only 3 or 4 paintings and a handful of watercolors still exist from that period (1987-1992). Not that I can do anything over again, but I remember standing in my basement with my then boyfriend > husband > ex-husband, (a painter whose paintings were drastically different from mine), who while looking at my stack of paintings told me he would NOT help me move them to his > our loft, that I could NOT store them in his  > our loft, and that I wouldn't want to keep any of the work I did before grad school anyway because I would make MUCH better work in grad school and that's the work that would define me as an artist. I remember that moment clearly. I know where I was standing in the basement. I remember thinking, I really don't want to move all these paintings again by myself. I didn't really believe him, but it seemed like a huge amount of work to haul around for the rest of my life if indeed I wasn't going to ever show them to anyone. I only vaguely remember destroying them by myself, but not really. I only remember the walk from the basement to the trash can in the back alley. I forgot how long it took to purge them. I hope, of course, that as a painter my work has matured in 20 years, but looking at this work digitally is like having amnesia and slowly recognizing bits of who I was, and where I was, not only as an artist, but as a person. Obviously there was a bit of a conflict. I try hard not to destroy works now, since sometimes I've been dead wrong and since sometimes the ugly ones are the best, but most of all, I think destroying paintings is an akin to being an enfant terrible. My current position is to try and remove words like  "good" or bad" from the decision, though yesterday I ripped up a watercolor as I was sinking into a bad mood.

These are oil on canvas and oil on panel,  60" x 48", c. 1990.




I also found a color photo of the bench, so I reposted it.

As I mentioned in another post, I not having a stellar studio day. I may never be able to paint anything worthwhile again. For as long as I live. crap.

5 comments:

Carla said...

Were they all this large? Your early work relates to your now work. You seemed to have grasped your truth kernals early on.

Elaine Mari said...

I agree with Carla, a good grasp of kernals. I see your work very much relating across time. Sorry about the funk in the studio, that is so blah.

mj said...

Hi MAH, I agree with the above posts. I am glad you still have these -- it's like a family tree for your work.

(I have been meaning to email you and say that I love the M.T.A.v. work that I was gifted with. It makes me smile and look closer when I see it, which is often.)

Stay warm! I am mad at winter too.

M.A.H. said...

They were all this large, even the watercolors were done on really large sheets. With the exception of collages and stuff, I had never worked small or even mid-size until just a few years ago. I'm feeling so nostalgic lately.

mj, I was really touched your husband contacted me and so happy you like it.

These were scanned from slides. I actually don't have them anymore. I think I have the top one since it was on canvas. I am glad I took slides though I haven't scanned most of them. One day...

Nomi Lubin said...

"I may never be able to paint anything worthwhile again. For as long as I live. crap."

Know that feeling. It's a bad one.

These paintings are really interesting to see. Glad you posted them.

It's over.

Nov 7, 2020. Tears of joy and relief. It's been unreal and I'm ready to get back to a sense of normalcy. The desert has been tough.